| Details for Worst. Game. Ever. |
| Summary: | Anthony accuses Myrus of something after Myrus and Sybil's little Game, Myrus get's fiery, somehow settles over tea. |
| Date: | 1939-02-10 |
| Location: | Ravenclaw Common Room |
| Related: | Best. Game. Ever. Jilted In Domestics |
| Characters |
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OOC Note: After Sybil has left (fades out) between this and previous log.
Anthony accepts is tea, and shakes his head slightly. Then takes a sip
Myrus steps over to Anthony as the crowd disperses to either the dormitory towers or the hallway outside of the Ravenclaw commons. He still seems on cloud nine as he looks at his fellow Ravenclaw with a little permanant smirk on his face.
Anthony takes another little sip of tea, "Did you enjoy taking advantage of that poor girl?"
Myrus has half a mind to flip out on Anthony. But he calms it as much as he can right now, which turns it into a sort of scalding tone. "Advantage? How in the world do you see that as /me/ taking advantage of /her/? I've been accused of this once when I was not the initiator and never once force anything upon anyone, yet /I'm/ the bad guy. Tell me how that makes any sense. Please." He clasps his hands in front of him, waiting impatiently, with eyebrows raised a bit, for Anthony's answer.
Anthony says, "Obviously because you were the one taking pleasure in her ministrations. As you must have known you would. You could have declined."
Myrus lifts his chin a bit at the older male housemate of his, fuming just under the surface. He leans forward, with a rasp of a whisper at Anthony, "And so could /she/ have.. I took advantage of /nothing/."
Then a far calmer and vile undertoned voice as Myrus crosses his arms over his chest, "Tell me you're the pompous prig that would decline. Or at minimum, weren't imagining yourself in my position, and I'll call you the liar that you would be."
Anthony says firmly, "I like to think I _would_ have refused."
Myrus lets out a singular blare of a laugh. "HA~!" His head leaning back a bit as he does so, "How kind of you to give me an answer that quaintly puts you where you neither yes, nor no, answer the question. How cowardly." Anthony struck a nerve, and now he gets to hear the plucked chord resonate from Myrus' reaction.
Anthony says, "I _think_ I said I believed I would decline. Whether or not that makes me a pompous prig is up to you to decide. What I think it makes me is a _gentleman_."
Another rage-underlaid laugh. "So you both fail to admit you are human with faults, and at the same time fail to admit you are good enough of a /gentleman/ to /know/ you would decline. Wrapped up in the uncertainty that you can twist to make it sound like you are both, but neither. What a load of /absolute/ /shit/, Anthony."
Anthony gives a shrug, "As with so many tests, one never knows with any certainty whether one will fail until one is put to the test." A beat, "As you just did. I _believe_ I would decline."
Myrus' head reels back. Failed? "/Excuse/ me?" Accusatory finger, "Sit up on your pedistal of rightousness. I at least know what I like and what I want and don't want. Looking at her, and that really being the first time me and her spent any real time together, I really like her. And don't give me anything about it's not the head on my shoulders talking. Because of course it isn't just that one! She's gorgeous. Eat me." He looks for that house elf. "Tea!?" a slight pause, calming of himself.. "..please."
Anthony says quietly, "And I'm pretty sure she has a boyfriend. You could, perhaps, if you have a _shred_ of decency, respect that."
So, back several months ago, Myrus was the victim of mistaken singularity by another girl in the domestics club meeting. Now it's the other way around. He was never informed she was anything but, and it's /still/ his fault? "I'm not taking that. I've been blamed before for not stating it explicitly I was with someone. And I even showed no interest in the person, and I was accused of leading her on. So cork that crap with me."
Anthony says, "Do you know, foul language really does not add to my impression of the justice of your cause!"
"Justice my foot!" Myrus gets his tea, and in a complete turn of his demeanor, he says calmly to the house-elf, "That will be all, thank you." To which he might get a strange look or surprised one.. maybe?
A look to Anthony now. "Well, I was using less vile language before, and you still refused to answer yes or no. Skirting around the answer like a mangey cull. I hope you don't have to go through a test like that. So you don't have to deal with people knowing your 'honor' is at it's core, pure vanity of your idealism."
Anthony takes a sip of his own tea, "Doubtless you are right. I'm sure I would not be able to resist her. But I cannot know that, and nor can you. Unless you are a Divination Specialist?"
Myrus sips his tea. Somehow this has turned into an intellectual conversation somewhere? "Mm, no, I'm not. But I am learning something about people. Lately I'm noticing that people go for what they enjoy. If you enjoy one person over another, go with them instead. I get stepped on, and the second I want to do some stepping, I get stepped on again for being some relentlessly angry, scorned heart." He takes another sip with only a slight slurp. He never learned the right way to drink tea.
"Oh, and this is less anger about being left, and more of I'm learning what really goes on. So go through a few tests on this subject, as I would ask your advice if I were-" he pauses, making a pensive face, "-put through a situation like you had, and not try to feed you fence-straddling ideas about how I would react and just say 'I don't know yet'." A nod, a cheers with the teacup, some respect for what Anthony's been through that Myrus himself hasn't.
Anthony says, "One thing I… learned… is that a lot of illusions are held. I mean, about who one is. How one would react. A lot of what the grown ups call 'The Certainty of Youth' are just that. Illusions. One really doesn't _know_ how one will react in a situation, until one is in it. And it's honesty, and not cowardice to admit that."
Myrus deadpans at Anthony. "Then /admit/ it with certainty that you are uncertain, not 'I hope I'd do this' and 'I'd like to think that I'd do that'. Hope into one hand, piss into the other, tell me which one fills up faster." Myrus was burned… /bad/ and it still scorches everywhere he goes where the topic comes up. Not thinking about it, not burning everything around him… like bridges.
Anthony says, "It isn't that I need to talk clearer. You need to be still and _listen_."
Myrus just shakes his head. "No. If I get still, then I start thinking. I start thinking, it starts hurting again, and when I'm hurting, I want to hurt others. So just drop it and everything will be ok." Why is his hand holding the tea shaking?
Anthony pauses, and then nods slightly, "Right then." He picks his own teacup up, and takes a neat little sip.
Myrus finishes his tea quickly, and without another word heads up to the boys dormitory tower. Best night ever and worst night ever. Worst once the game of love was brought up in conversation.
…Love…
Worst.
Game.
Ever.