Will read the sign on the door of Professor Borr's lounge. He sighed and then knocked on the door. After all, he had been invited specifically while at the feast.

"Oh what do we have here?" Lord Borr's voice boomed as he moved out of his office and towards his lounge. Lord Borr remembered the face from the Feast. He remembered giving this particular invite out. Lord Borr turned the lock to the lounge and let the young man in (after Lord Borr went in - Men First!).


Once in, Lord Borr turned to watch the reaction on the young man's face. If the miniature man had any taste or sense at all, he'd be MOST impressed. That, or he could leave with Lord Borr's shoe in his pants.

Will entered Professor Lord Borr's lounge, observing the opulent surroundings. He took in the leather furnishings and deep wood tables. Wow, this guy had everything you'd expect in a Man Club study in here. He casually glanced around, taking it all in, looking for hunting trophies and brandy. Real Men's studies always had hunting trophies and snifters of brandy. He had read it in a book somewhere.

"Good day, Professor Borr... Thank you for inviting me to have an audience in your most impressive lounge. By the way... Do you prefer we students address you by the title of Professor or Lord?" he asked, speaking most deferentially to the large man. He didn't want to do anything to offend His Eminence, and knew he had to tread carefully.

"Tut tut tut!" Lord Borr's beefy finger went up to stop this show before it got started. "First, you bow. You should bow before addressing someone more important than you, and in turn, you should wait to be bowed to when you're with someone less important." Therefore, Lord Borr waited to be bowed to before he addressed the questions. He put a cookie into his mouth while he waited. Lita's cookies always made him so warm and cozy on the inside.

Bow? Okay, this is... interesting. Well, he IS royalty... Will decided not to argue, bending into a polite but not overly ridiculous bow. "I was unaware of the custom, sir; my apologies." he said. He returned to his normal posture, waiting for Borr to take the lead in the conversation. Oh... tread carefully, Will.

Lord Borr bowed back, as it was the polite thing to do.

"Of course you were unaware. I haven't taught in any school in some years now. The - teachers - that the woman hired had no class, were idiots, and will be fired if I have any say in it." The look in Lord Borr's eyes clearly said he would have a say in it.

"Introduce yourself, my young man. Then you may have a seat and we'll talk business."

Will nodded once politely to show he understood. "My name is Billium Q. Jones, but you may certainly call me Will if it is your preference. I'm the Slytherin prefect, and I'm quite honoured to make your acquaintance." He smiled warmly at the Professor. "Is there anyplace in particular you'd prefer we sit to have our discussion?" He looked around the room; there were several seating options and he didn't want to be presumptuous.

Lord Borr bowed again. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Jones." He waved that any of the seats would do. Lord Borr didn't fret over such trivial things as seating and he liked a man that was decisive and knew where he wanted to sit. Lord Borr would work on that with this one.


"You have great potential, Mr. Jones. Are you aware?" Lord Borr offered the young man a cookie from his private Miss Melita basket. The crumbs from the little pieces of heaven peppered all over the front of Lord Borr's dress shirt.

Will took a cookie -- they looked delicious-- and sat on one of the large leather couches, being careful not to drop any crumbs or make a mess. "I certainly hope so, sir. It is my ambition to be on the Wizengamot someday. Perhaps under the tutelage of fine instructors like yourself, I may in fact reach my goal." He took a small bite of cookie. Truly delicious, indeed. He swallowed.

Lord Borr looked so happy and proud that he could have cried. "Who is your role model, son? Who did you learn all this from? Well mannered, big ambitions." Lord Borr might have passed some gas, and it might have been rather loud, but Lord Borr did not notice or even blink at it.

Do. not. Laugh. Will made sure to keep his face impassive as Borr let a loud one loose with a long riiiiiipping sound. He blinked twice, hoping that it was only noisy, not odoriferous. Gas from a man like Borr would likely pack one heckuva punch! He waited for a brief moment with bated breath (literally!) and then spoke, glad that the air was apparently still breathable.

"My father is my role model, sir. He is a HIT wizard and a true Southern gentleman of the highest regard, if I may say so... Born and raised in Louisana." he smiled as he spoke of his old man, whom he idolized. "It's my hope to follow in his footsteps and become a HIT wizard and then eventually move up to Wizengamot, with hard work and determination."

He paused. "If I may be so bold, I'm quite curious about your own background... Was it always your ambition to instruct young minds in History of Magic, or is this career path a new direction for you?"

Lord Borr licked his lips as he thought. His forefinger and thumb rubbed rapidly over the top of the basket as Lord Borr tried to decide which cookie to eat next. "I don't know much about Louisiana," sounded horribly uncivilized, "and, no offense to your ole man because I think he's done a real good job on you, but HIT wizard is a bit - well, it doesn't take brains. If you know what I mean. Not like Wizengamot. Now that's a real goal there." Lord Borr settled for a toffee topped cookie and the set the entire thing on his tongue.


Another gas passing episode occurred, but where the last one lacked in smell, this one made up for it. Lord Borr took no notice. "I'm thinking you might be the right sort of chap to help me run this lounge. What do you say to that?"

Oh Merlin... Oh Merlin... The HUMANITY!!!!! Will thought as a pungent odor drifted his way. Dear Sweet Merlin's rotting fish corpses with sewer sauce on a platter of sauerkraut with a side order of PURE STANK, that smelled bad!!! He held his composure (and his breath) as his eyes watered slightly from the horrible, terrible, really bad smell. He hoped Borr would just interpret the tears that he blinked back as him being touched by the honor of assisting him in running this gas factory lounge.

He inhaled slowly, testing the air. The worst of it had passed. Thank Merlin. He disregarded the slam against his old man, though he felt compelled to defend him a little- to do less would be unmanly of him. That was his pop, after all... "While I agree with you that Wizengamot as a far more ambitious goal, and one I plan to achieve... I must say that my father's defense that his role as Hit wizard is a lot more mentally challenging than it might seem-- though perhaps I explained his position poorly. He's a detective-level Hit wizard, so he works more directly with Aurors, using his wits instead of pure brawn." he smiled a little, thinking of Officer Jones.

"As to your kind offer, I'd be more than honoured to assist you here in your lounge... How could I be of service?" Will said, retaining his composure --barely -- as another wave of Eau De Borr drifted past him. Just when you thought it was safe to breathe again... If the man was this flatulent on a regular basis, he'd have to learn how to do an invisible bubble-head charm to work here... But it would all be worth it if he could achieve his goals. Keep your goal in sight, Will ol' chap... he thought to himself, fighting the urge to toss his cookies.

Lord Borr waved all the silly family related nonsense off. Family matters were just that - things that only mattered to family. Lord Borr didn't care if his father was the muggle pope or Jack the Ripper. Didn't matter. He'd gone off track.

"Focus, my boy. Focus." The tears in his eyes hadn't gone unnoticed. "You need a hug or something?" Lord Borr considered it,but did not offer his arms. He knew that men needed hugs sometimes, but he was not going to encourage his men to be wimpy and girly. "We need to make the boys around here into men. I don't think many are up to it,but I've already seen a few potentials. I need you to help me scout out potentials. Ones with class and," a loud chunk of air passed out of Lord Borr, leaving no room for even Lord Borr to ignore it. "Pardon me," and then he went on unfazed, "and ambitions like yours. The ones that aren't too - degenerate - to make something of themselves."

A hug? Will was horrified at the thought of this walrus of a gassy man embracing him (or even touching him!) but did not let it change his expression. "No sir, no hug is needed, I'm fine. But thank you." He shook his head. A hug? Was this guy for real?

"I'd be happy-- no, honoured-- to be one of your scouts, sir... " He nodded, disregarding the... please don't let that be another stank bomb oh Merlin no no no... noise from Lord Borr's great and horrific bowel system. "As a prefect, I feel I'm likely in a good position to be your eyes and ears... And while we're on the subject of ambition, sir... As a boy of strong drive and ambition, I have a concern I'd like to share with you. May I?"

The newest blend of the fragrance Eau Mah Lawdie That Do Smell Bad! by Lord Borr wafted across the room. Will clenched his jaws to keep his gorge from rising; to vomit would be extremely bad form. At least there had been a good span of time since his last meal, so his stomach wasn't too full. He was regretting the bite of cookie, however. Yes indeedy he was.

Lord Borr's face broke into a big grin. "My personal Boy Scout. You should use that title, throw it around to get things done. Lord Borr's Boy Scout. You use that title - and people will listen." Lord Borr was sure of that.

As another cookie went into his mouth, his stomach had no choice but to make room and push some more air out. "I'm all ears my boy, tell Uncle Berty your problems. We'll get you fixed up right." Lord Borr waved his hand in front of his face, a little bit bothered by his own stench. "House elves made a real meal. My gut approves," Lord Borr chuckled as he waited and listened.

His pants, that were moaning with the strain his gut put on them, did not approve.

God knows why he came here. He refused the man's invitation, but to his dismay the man seemed to insist his presence. And Kingston could not deny this anymore. First, because he had been humiliated in the Great Hall, in front of many of students when Lord Borr made him sit on his knee.

The horror.

Second, Kingston knew he was a noble British man. As he had the title "Lord" in his name, he must be a nobleman. And Kingston, being a nobleman's son himself, could not refuse.

With a deep breath, Kingston soon found himself in the front of the door. He had a deep gut feeling that he was going to regret this.

knock, knock, knock.

'Uncle Berty'. Oh My Lawd in Heaven. I guess I have arrived. He thought with cynical good humor as he smiled warmly back at Borr. "Lord Borr's Boy Scout... I'll certainly be honoured to use it, unless you think it's apt to make the other gents too jealous..." Jealous... Riiiiiiight. he thought. More like make Will a laughingstock. But no matter. He desperately struggled to keep his food down as yet another air raid struck. I didn't know they allowed the use of chemical weapons at a mere boys' school. Working with him, I should qualify for hazardous duty pay. Sheesh.

He leaned forward as though confessing his soul to Borr. Closer to the source, Merlin help poor Will. "Well, sir, since you're so kind and understanding... I'm a bit concerned about the disparity of the dining accomodations in the great hall. Specifically, the Slytherins are afforded the best while the other houses are kind of given lesser quality things. While I'm certainly not complaining about the quality of what we have, and I feel that we need to become accustomed to the best as you yourself indicated at the feast... Well, it seems to me that it takes some of the thrill out of our inevitable victory of the House Cup, for if we aren't given equal accommodations, the other houses will state that our win was a result of favouritism and not due to our own superior skill and hard work. As a young man of great ambition, I'd hate for there to be any actual evidence that they can use to try to tarnish our victory. I was wondering... Well, I am certain you have it in your power to see that the quality of the dining facilities of the other Houses are brought up to the standard that Slytherin is receiving, and I was wondering if perhaps you could see it in your heart to allow us all that equal playing field. After all, a race is no challenge if the other competitors are held at a disadvantage." He spoke as calmly and slowly as he could, trying to keep from rushing so he could hold his breath again.

He heard a knock at the door. Oh, thank heaven. Salvation... Let him open the door and let some oxygen in before I pass out!

Lord Borr looked to the door expectantly. "What are you waiting for, son? Open the door. Scout out the men. See if they're worthy of entering and ask if they were invited. If not, hex them." Simple as.


It left Lord Borr some time to ponder the young man's request. He'd get to it after the more pressing matter of who was knocking on his lounge door was addressed.

Will stood and strode over to the door, thrilled to be creating distance between himself and His Flatulence. He staggered a little in spite of himself- he was light-headed from holding his breath and the high quantities of methane present in the air. At least the fireplace isn't lit... he thought. If it was, the whole place would likely blow up.

Will was even more relieved to find the boy whom Borr had been holding on his lap. Creeeepy... But likely he had been invited to this dance, so there'd be no need to play Borr's Bouncer.

He leaned forward toward Kingston, sucking in a deeeeeeeeeeeeep double lungful of sweet, pure air. Will closed his eyes, enjoying the experience immensely. One more breath, and then another. He opened his eyes and stepped a little bit further out toward Kingston. Unpolluted air... enjoy it while you've got it, kid... he thought. "Hello... Have you been personally invited to have an audience with Lord Borr?" he asked pleasantly.

Kingston's eyes slightly widened when the Slytherin Prefect opened the door and leaned into him. Leaning a bit back with his hands in front of him, worried the boy would try to smooch him as he seemed to lean in far too much.

He stepped back once the boy stepped out of the room. Kingston noticed he seemed... happy. Blinking at him, he wondered why he seemed so happy. Was it THAT awful in there? Dear God, Kingston hoped not. With a deep breath to calm his nerves down, he nodded. "Yes, he had."

Good. Then obviously this boy already passed the Lord's criteria as a worthy visitor. Will nodded. "All right, then, please follow me... Lord -- Farty Borr, Farty Borr, don't say Farty Borr! He bit his lip to fight supress a giggle, managing not to smile or laugh. Barely. "-- Berty Borr will see you."

He turned to walk back into the lounge, but on second thought turned back and leaned out into the hall, taking in one last clean lungful of Mother Earth's finest air. All right, then... I'm goin' in! he thought, returning to his place on the battlefield... er... leather couch across from Lord Borr.

Let another round of chemical warfare begin.

Kingston was bewildered by the boy's action. Why had he just taken a deep breath before he went back in? Was he nervous? Was there a serious conversation going on at that moment? Many questions were flying around Kingston's head at the moment.

Stepping into the room, Kingston saw that the Lord was sitting. Perfect. "Good day, my Lord," he spoke, bowing to the older man. Living amongst noblemen his whole life had taught him to bow when meeting someone of noble blood. And Berty Borr, or Lord Borr as he liked to call himself, was of noble blood. Right?

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything. That would be very rude on my behalf." Kingston told him, not rising from his bow.

It was only seconds later had he smelled that... Oh dear. Was something DEAD in here?! Oh merlins. This smell was burning his throat, his eyes and possibly his ears. What had happened in here? Kingston tried his best to not choke. You have gone through much worse, Wendleworth! Pull yourself together!

Lord Borr was looking like he had just been made King. He bowed his head to the new arrival, marveling at such good manners. Lord Borr had such a keen eye for the well bred ones. Not there any time at all - and he'd already found the cream of the crop. It did not surprise him.

The loud noise with a hint of wetness against the leather couches that came from his behind - that surprised him. The leather was surely magnifying the sound. "Lita's cookies. They always clear me tunnels." He chuckled and fanned himself and air around him.


"Mr. Jones here was just expressing his concerns over the seating arrangements in the Great Hall. You've also voiced some concern over it." Lord Borr offered the cookie basket to Kingston. "Take one, son."

"I think you boys should stop eating in the Great Hall full stop. We'll take our meals in here and discuss business."