Post by William Fletcher on Apr 26, 2007 22:28:46 GMT 1
"S' what happened, Will?"
"Basically, they hit the lass, I stepped in, they wanted t' start somethin', that wanker Kurtz stepped in an' gave it the King o' the Jungle act."
"I really don't get why ye haven't just smacked him, yet."
"Hittin' Kurtz is like hittin' one o' our lot. Ye pick a fight wi' one, ye pick a fight wi' all o' us."
"Even so, ye should do somethin' about this. They transfers ye mentioned last time seem interestin'."
"They are, Danny. I'll be making some approaches in due time. F'r now, I guess I'll be goin'. Tell ma I love her."
"Will do, lad. Take care o' yerself, a'right?"
~The Next Day~
There was one thing Will hadn't counted on with his reaction yesterday, and that was the glances that people would steal at him now. Both Varron and Hircine, but for entirely different reasons. Many of the Hircine students cast disapproving eyes at him for his actions, for attacking one of their own for the sake of a transfer student. There would be plenty as ambivalent as he was, but there were masses of them who looked over at him as he strode through the halls to his locker with a rather hating stare. The Varronites, though not quite as easy to read as the Hircine students, seemed to have an entirely different take on things. Even though he'd helped the girl last night, a few people still stepped out of his way far more than necessary with distrustful looks, cautious of the larger mans motives. The pleasant few, however, seemed almost understanding of his case.
After all, he'd gone from a Hircine student to a pariah in less than 24 hours, and it was only to get worse for the young man. Stopping at his locker, his eyes narrowed slightly at the spraypainted 'TRAITOR' someone had left on it earlier. The paint was dry, old enough for it to have happened well before he got here this morning, but he paid little attention to it. He had no interest in such petty titles to be thrown around. Besides, the janitor dealt with the grafitti quickly enough, no point getting pissed over something that stupid.
Slamming the door shut with a nonchalant sigh, having just stuffed a couple of books back into it for the time being, he had a free period to waste at the moment. Figuring he would take his place up at the gym for the time, he went to turn before a punch to his kidneys stuttered his movement slightly. He hadn't seen it coming, and resting his left arm against the locker, blinking a moment at the sensation of the blow, he glanced at the attacker with mild amusement. One of the football team, it would seem. Judging by his build, not to mention the sweat on his brow. they'd not long had a practice session, made sense that they would show up in the halls about now.
Sighing slowly, he turned fully to look down at the student with a dark, furrowed stare, "Find somethin' better t' do. Ye'll jus' end up hurt here."
The sudden laugh from the player was enough to irk William further, and his words served little assistance to his cause, "Fuckin' think you can hurt me!? I should beat the hell out of you for your little stunt with Kurtz."
"Last I checked, it was fuck-all t' do wit' ye."
That seemed to irk him more, and as the hand shot out, grabbing his shirt, the player stepped right in to him, glaring at him furiously before pushing the large Irishman against his locker with a dull thud. "I made it have something to do with me. Now, you're going to stay the fuck away from the Varron students, and the school will forget this little mess ever happened. It's a fair deal, and you don't have to worry about getting hurt, because if you carry on like this, you will get hurt."
William gave no response before his eyebrow perked very slightly, the tiniest of smirks emerging on his face, "That's bloody good o' ye. I'll keep it in mind.", pushing the players arm away, he watched as the lad gave him a high-and-mighty nod before walking away. He continued to watch him with furious eyes, almost grinning when he stepped into the bathroom nearby. Approaching and slipping inside the bathroom, the player facing away from him at the urinal, he stalked behind him quietly before unleashing a massive right cross, right into the back of his head and sending his face into the tiled wall. His legs gave way beneath him, but before he could hit the ground, Will had caught the back of his jersey and hoisted him back to his feet, using both hands to fling him to the side of the bathroom, near the sinks.
Apparently the football team trained its players to take a hard hit, because the guy continued to groan and clutch the patch on his forehead that had opened up in a large gash from hitting the tiles, his free arm trying to pull himself up on the sinks. Will made quick his reaction, a boot rising sharply to drive into the players chest and send him clean into the wall beside the sink, the air driven from him before he pinned him up against the tiles, a forearm against his throat as he spoke very slowly, a dangerous tinge to his voice.
"Let me get this very, very straight f'r ye. Ye EVER threaten me again, I will kill ye. Ye tell anyone whit happened t' ye, I'll come after ye again an' leave ye in a wheelchair. If Kurtz so much as breathes in me direction about this, I will go after yer family. Are we clear...?"
A mumble and a faint nod through the trickles of blood running down the young mans face. In return, Will fired out another heavy punch to his nose, the crack of it breaking clear enough as his head was driven into the tiles again before the Irishman grabbed his hair, slamming his face into the sink with a wet smack, pinning him once again against the wall.
"I said..Are. We. Clear?"
"Mmyesh...."
"Good. Remember what I said, and we'll be just peachy.", he smirked before letting him slump to the floor and clutch his injuries. Walking to the opposite sink, he ran the tap a moment and set his palms under it, rinsing the spatters of blood from his hands and drying them on a paper towel before leaving the bathroom with a smirk on his face. He hated the Americans version of football, and his recent situation had proved very relieving indeed. Within minutes he was pacing his way away and toward the gym.
"Basically, they hit the lass, I stepped in, they wanted t' start somethin', that wanker Kurtz stepped in an' gave it the King o' the Jungle act."
"I really don't get why ye haven't just smacked him, yet."
"Hittin' Kurtz is like hittin' one o' our lot. Ye pick a fight wi' one, ye pick a fight wi' all o' us."
"Even so, ye should do somethin' about this. They transfers ye mentioned last time seem interestin'."
"They are, Danny. I'll be making some approaches in due time. F'r now, I guess I'll be goin'. Tell ma I love her."
"Will do, lad. Take care o' yerself, a'right?"
~The Next Day~
There was one thing Will hadn't counted on with his reaction yesterday, and that was the glances that people would steal at him now. Both Varron and Hircine, but for entirely different reasons. Many of the Hircine students cast disapproving eyes at him for his actions, for attacking one of their own for the sake of a transfer student. There would be plenty as ambivalent as he was, but there were masses of them who looked over at him as he strode through the halls to his locker with a rather hating stare. The Varronites, though not quite as easy to read as the Hircine students, seemed to have an entirely different take on things. Even though he'd helped the girl last night, a few people still stepped out of his way far more than necessary with distrustful looks, cautious of the larger mans motives. The pleasant few, however, seemed almost understanding of his case.
After all, he'd gone from a Hircine student to a pariah in less than 24 hours, and it was only to get worse for the young man. Stopping at his locker, his eyes narrowed slightly at the spraypainted 'TRAITOR' someone had left on it earlier. The paint was dry, old enough for it to have happened well before he got here this morning, but he paid little attention to it. He had no interest in such petty titles to be thrown around. Besides, the janitor dealt with the grafitti quickly enough, no point getting pissed over something that stupid.
Slamming the door shut with a nonchalant sigh, having just stuffed a couple of books back into it for the time being, he had a free period to waste at the moment. Figuring he would take his place up at the gym for the time, he went to turn before a punch to his kidneys stuttered his movement slightly. He hadn't seen it coming, and resting his left arm against the locker, blinking a moment at the sensation of the blow, he glanced at the attacker with mild amusement. One of the football team, it would seem. Judging by his build, not to mention the sweat on his brow. they'd not long had a practice session, made sense that they would show up in the halls about now.
Sighing slowly, he turned fully to look down at the student with a dark, furrowed stare, "Find somethin' better t' do. Ye'll jus' end up hurt here."
The sudden laugh from the player was enough to irk William further, and his words served little assistance to his cause, "Fuckin' think you can hurt me!? I should beat the hell out of you for your little stunt with Kurtz."
"Last I checked, it was fuck-all t' do wit' ye."
That seemed to irk him more, and as the hand shot out, grabbing his shirt, the player stepped right in to him, glaring at him furiously before pushing the large Irishman against his locker with a dull thud. "I made it have something to do with me. Now, you're going to stay the fuck away from the Varron students, and the school will forget this little mess ever happened. It's a fair deal, and you don't have to worry about getting hurt, because if you carry on like this, you will get hurt."
William gave no response before his eyebrow perked very slightly, the tiniest of smirks emerging on his face, "That's bloody good o' ye. I'll keep it in mind.", pushing the players arm away, he watched as the lad gave him a high-and-mighty nod before walking away. He continued to watch him with furious eyes, almost grinning when he stepped into the bathroom nearby. Approaching and slipping inside the bathroom, the player facing away from him at the urinal, he stalked behind him quietly before unleashing a massive right cross, right into the back of his head and sending his face into the tiled wall. His legs gave way beneath him, but before he could hit the ground, Will had caught the back of his jersey and hoisted him back to his feet, using both hands to fling him to the side of the bathroom, near the sinks.
Apparently the football team trained its players to take a hard hit, because the guy continued to groan and clutch the patch on his forehead that had opened up in a large gash from hitting the tiles, his free arm trying to pull himself up on the sinks. Will made quick his reaction, a boot rising sharply to drive into the players chest and send him clean into the wall beside the sink, the air driven from him before he pinned him up against the tiles, a forearm against his throat as he spoke very slowly, a dangerous tinge to his voice.
"Let me get this very, very straight f'r ye. Ye EVER threaten me again, I will kill ye. Ye tell anyone whit happened t' ye, I'll come after ye again an' leave ye in a wheelchair. If Kurtz so much as breathes in me direction about this, I will go after yer family. Are we clear...?"
A mumble and a faint nod through the trickles of blood running down the young mans face. In return, Will fired out another heavy punch to his nose, the crack of it breaking clear enough as his head was driven into the tiles again before the Irishman grabbed his hair, slamming his face into the sink with a wet smack, pinning him once again against the wall.
"I said..Are. We. Clear?"
"Mmyesh...."
"Good. Remember what I said, and we'll be just peachy.", he smirked before letting him slump to the floor and clutch his injuries. Walking to the opposite sink, he ran the tap a moment and set his palms under it, rinsing the spatters of blood from his hands and drying them on a paper towel before leaving the bathroom with a smirk on his face. He hated the Americans version of football, and his recent situation had proved very relieving indeed. Within minutes he was pacing his way away and toward the gym.