 Who Am I? Ern's 2460FUN
Y'know, Theo might have been more predictable when he wasn't smiling and being pleasant, but Ascanius almost chucked one of his drumsticks at his dorm-mate's face. Sarcasm. Understood. He wouldn't address it again. The sleep thing. It didn't mean he had to be such an insufferable grump, though.
There is was again. That impulse to hurl something, maybe not his drumstick 'cause he wouldn't waste it on Józsua, at his dormmates. 'Cept this time it wasn't 'cause they were being grumpy. Nope. Who did Józsua think he was, yeah? Asking 'bout Derry and how she was and pretending he cared. He hadn't see her. Ascanius had and she was all torn up because of the big nosed, less attractive then himself Slytherin looking as guilty as he was.
His arm tensed, but he didn't act on it. "She's better now." Subtext: No thanks to you. "And for your own good, man, don't talk to me about her." Or he might act on the urge to hit him. He didn't WANT to. He drummed with his hands, among other things, so they were precious to him. But he would if it came down to it.
The seventh year was thankful for the distraction West supplied.
A prank war? With the Slytherin girls? Did West KNOW them? They'd fight dirty and he was keen on keeping his hair on his head. And keeping his face intact. And pretty much all the things that would preserve his face.
Hesitantly he sat up, "M'game for a little prank war, yeah? We just...should set ground rules...like....they can't mess with our face....or hair." This was his money maker. People didn't come see him DRUM because he was good (even though he was). Nope, it was all the Scan Face.
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