Notorious Bastards PV Headliner Finished

"Jiminy cricket, Stavrou, you're faster than you look- holy shit."

Panting slightly as she neared the door to the Headliner office, her jaw dropped open in shock and horror at the scene before her. The familiar door that she almost always ran face-first into (mostly as a joke, at this point) was... defaced. Vandalized. Covered in-

"Is that my paint? Who the fu-" Okay, well, it wasn't her paint, but once she'd switched from writing to printing, she had always felt a certain vein of overprotectiveness over the printing materials. She was sure the other Headliner members probably felt the same way, whether it was about their writing, their desks, their specific quills... but especially for Phaedra and Alexx, they were most protective of the entire space. After all, it was their office, and this vandalism was as good as a war declaration. No one messed with the Headliner without facing the full wrath of Alexx and Phaedra, and their combined anger was certainly one of the scariest things here at Hogwarts.

As if the secretary could sense her thoughts, Phaedra started yelling. Even though she wasn't specifically yelling at Ami, the tall Hufflepuff still flinched, knowing that things were officially going to hell. Pushing past the dispersing crowd of students, she stayed a few paces behind Phaedra as the Ravenclaw secretary started to digest what had happened to their beloved workspace.

"Listen to the angry lady," she called out, her face turning stern as she turned toward at a couple of giggling first years, "Or I'll personally make sure you get your asses kicked." The last remaining stragglers seemed to scamper off, and Ami turned to follow her fellow fourth year and Headliner coworker into the office.

Like Phaedra, Ami's very first concern was the printing press. Even if she and Eyre tended to mess around an excessive amount when it came around to printing the issues, there was a certain amount of reverence the graphics members held for their beloved machine. As Phae went to grab a camera, the Hufflepuff immediately made her way over to the press, examining every square inch of it with a critical eye. "It... seems fine," she said in mild disbelief, straightening up and fixing Stavrou with an uncharacteristically solemn and concerned stare. "I mean, I'd have to run some pages through, but it seems okay."

The Ravenclaw's cold words sent a shiver down her spine, and Ami lingered by the printing press, drumming her fingers anxiously on its wooden surface. This... surely, this couldn't be something Howard did? Even if others often thought him to be violent and scary and demonic, Ami had always viewed her fellow fourth year as a gentle giant, much like Quinn. It was unclear if Ami actually understood that Howard was a dhampir, but even so- there was no reason to treat him as anything other than another student. But the fact that someone would go as far as to destroy the Headliner office...

Years ago, when the Headliner had first started, Ami had learned about the concept of journalistic integrity. Reporting on what was right and keeping the untruths out of the newspaper had always been the goal of the student-led organization, but it was clear that something had gone horribly wrong along the way. She vaguely remembered reading the T. Ruth article- she'd had to print it in ink, of course, she had at least skimmed it. At the time, she hadn't thought much of the article- it was someone's opinion after all, and who she, an American, to trample on a writer's right to free speech? But reflecting on it now, as she watched Phaedra snap a picture of the damage, her brows creased as she realized that maybe it was less free speech, and more hate speech.

She should've done something.

"I should've said something."

She wasn't quite sure who she was talking to at this point, but her voice cracked slightly as she stared at the door. "I saw the article... I printed it. I printed it, Phaedra. I could've said something. I should've done something." Her jaw clenched as the gears in her head were almost audibly turning, the pain and discomfort clear in her voice. "Howard, he- he's on my Quidditch team. I'm- I'm literally the co-captain. Why didn't I see this coming? Why didn't I do something?

"God, Phaedra, I'm so sorry."

She paused, glancing at the Ravenclaw in the doorway, and her voice hardened. For now, she would side with Phae and Alexx. For now, her loyalty to her entire Headliner team outweighed whatever loyalty she had left to Howard. For now, until someone properly sat her down and explained that the T. Ruth article had been saying, she would side with whatever Phaedra and Alexx wanted to do. "What are we going to do?"

Continuing from here.

Departing from the Great Hall in the midst of madness wasn't necessarily easy. What-Ifs plagued Pericles as he hurried down the corridors. What if that crowd took it upon themselves to forcefully detain Howard and his girlfriend-in-arms? What if he was provoked into an attack? What if the actual T. Ruth- who Pericles himself had yet to identify- was realized and retaliated against? His heart and head were pulling every which way, particularly in his obligations as a prefect, a member of the Headliner, and what one could call a "dhampire sympathizer". It was all too much. Too many voices trying to commandeer the situation, too many Protagonists, ignoring the brevity of the cause in favor of the garish actions. It was difficult to leave, but he deduced it was the right choice of action. He hadn't contributed to the chaos and surely saved himself a headache.

Shouting reached him before the sight of the Office did. Pericles promptly recognized it as the voice of Phaedra (though he had never heard it quite like this before), who was thus far the only student in Hogwarts that he regarded with a trace of intimidation. It wasn't to do with her status as a seasoned prefect, nor that as the paper's secretary. It could not even be credited to some "scary reputation"; most fourth years were innately formidable, though it wasn't as if this one was known for having a wild temper, or a tendency towards violence. The only foundation for Pericles' reluctance to hold eye-contact with her for all too long, was simply due to Phaedra's identity itself. A very brief (but exceedingly awkward) introduction in their childhood may have also played a part. She had just finished frightening off a gaggle of gawkers. Freckled features were already heavy with a psychological exhaustion unbefitting a boy of his age, and now they twisted further with a wary grimace. What had she seen to set her off...? How bad was it? If anything, the secretary's outburst made her less daunting. Seeing that she was capable of impassioned emotion, and not the utterly stoic caricature which most pureblood parents would prefer, was comforting in its own weird way. All the same, Pericles didn't speak as he approached, and should he meet her gaze would offer only a glance of grim understanding before looking away to take it in.

The show with which Falentra and Howard had entered the Great Hall nearly had him convinced they would find the office in flames. Instead, the door was broken, bearing deep claw marks which carved through the varnish as cruel pale scars. Red paint had splattered the exterior wall and made sticky puddles all over the floor, though this was outside of their workspace itself. Craning his neck so as to see inside without getting in the way of Phaedra's photography, it appeared that the office, more or less, had suffered very little from the Bonnie and Clyde couple. It rang more like a bright red warning as opposed to an outright onslaught. Pericles drew a slow soothing breath, then exhaled it as a sigh, the sound somehow managing to convey both relief and weariness in tandem. He would wait for the picture taking to stop, then drew his wand, tracing a languid S. "Scourgify." Where it was pointed at the stone floor, soap foam bubbled up and started to swirl through the paint, moving as if pushed along by an invisible scouring brush. Peri guided it through the mess, eyes fixed downward. Boots took sweeping sidesteps, encircling to eliminate it from the outside in. The act of casting seemed to satisfy him. Without raising his head, speaking at a mellow murmur, he tentatively tried to extend a small comfort. "At least our work and equipment are alright."

Ami Procoppio was her own enigma. Pericles had yet to formulate a solid opinion on the fourth-year, but instead had something half-formed from a nonsensical, unresolved encounter way back from his first year, and (in favorable contrast) her general silliness, plus an upbeat personality and loyalty to the paper that exceeded his own. Hearing her say that the printing press seemed to be alright came as no small relief, though the young wizard remained wrapped up in his own inner turmoil, something deeper than his worry over the material aspects of the attack. They could Reparo most things. Between the lot of pureblood paper persons, they could effortlessly buy whatever needed replacing. Something worse was at stake: credibility, comradery, and peace to name a few. Pericles made a mighty effort to maintain a more or less "tired but tolerant" expression. He continued to sustain the scouring spell, though the sweeping gestures became more forceful as Ami stumbled over a realization, and his magic betrayed him the moment she uttered her heartstring-tugging apology. The spell spluttered out, brows pinching as his eyes rose from the floor. Peri looked to her with a rather miserable frown, empathetic nature spilling over, and his wand arm fell to his side. He looked to Phaedra, wordlessly echoing Ami. What were they going to do...?

Entering after Phae, Ami, and Peri
OOC: I promise Alexx will not actually kill anyone :3

In many ways, and for many reasons, it was frankly just too God damn early for Alexx to be putting up with this. It didn't matter that it was the late evening; Alexx was exhausted.

Alexx was on her way to the Headliner office, which was where she spent most of her days during the normal school year when she wasn't in her dormitory- and that's when she saw it. The damage. The destruction. The... All of it. "What the FUCK?!" Bellowed the blonde girl, who could not contain her brief sense of rage, which then later turned to panic. She let out another panicked shriek, hands flying to her hair in frustration. "I'll kill them, I'll fucking kill them, whoever did this-" And, no Alexx didn't mean that literally, but she felt it. With the intense emotions that she had at the moment, maybe she could have, but she knew better (obviously).

There was paint everywhere, that was the first thing she noticed. The door was.... Well, it wasn't a door anymore, that was for sure. Alexx didn't come inside to see whoever was responsible, she assumed it might have been more than one person given the severity of the damage, but she was open to being wrong. One person would be easier to beat the living shit out of, anyway.

It was only then that she noticed her peers; she had admittedly been too panicked to see them before. Phaedra, Ami, and Pericles were all there so far. They were likely too levelheaded to match Alexx. "Who-" She started simply, gesturing to the damage. Her lips pursed together in frustration, and she thought carefully about her next words. "Who is asking to get beat to a pulp?" And seriously, of all the 4'11", Slytherin, psychotic assholes in this school that one could pick on, they picked Alexx. She'd let them know real quick that she was not the one. Lord, grant her patience.

Her fists were clenched so tight that her nails were digging into her palms, surely leaving a mark. She didn't care, though. Her main priority right now was not only to ensure that everything that mattered still worked, but that she found who was responsible and slung them off the astronomy tower, consequences be damned. She would even do it herself.

Alexx knew that some of the stuff the Headliner published was risky. Not everyone was going to like it. And hey, that was cool. It was her job as a writer to help inspire people to provoke thought processes and start conversations. But surely, surely destroying the Headliner office was a bit too much. Alexx may have been filled with rage, but she had class. They could have fist fought this out like the old days, not done all this.

She could feel her face heating up. Alexx wasn't one to cry from anger, not usually, if ever, but she was certainly feeling something rather unexplainable. There were plenty of things to be mad about in the world if you were Alexx. Parents hating you, can't tell if you love Reid or want to punch him, brother going missing, uncle wants her to move to America, all sorts of things. But this- this may have just been her tipping point.

All that being said, while it was true that Alexx tended to remain a pretty angry person, she liked to keep her composure around her co-workers. Above all else, looking orderly was extremely important to her. That was why Alexx was a girl of few words; if she said nothing, then no one got hurt. She preferred to observe things, anyway. Take in all that she could, keep that information in her back pocket until later (that was something she learned from Max Avery!). While many things could set her off, she decided to not let them. Alexx didn't like letting things have power over her.

Admittedly, Alexx knew very little about Pericles. He was a young Ravenclaw student that was working for the team, and if they had ever interacted before, Alexx could not recall. She eyed him down briefly, before turning back to the two other girls, both of which have been her secretary at some point. In both cases, they were always more levelheaded than herself. She decided that she wouldn't say anything more, rather wait for an answer before overreacting, but she was an inch away from snapping.

Interacting with @Ami Procoppio @Pericles Dralt & @Alexx Séverin

Annnd there. After snapping a few photos, Phaedra took a step back with the camera gripped firmly in her hand, watching silently as Pericles started to clean the floors. With the group of nosy students gone, and the investigation of the office revealing no major damage as far as they could see, the tension in her shoulders seemed to slowly melt away. Apparently it was the time for heart-wrenching though, because Ami finished with what Phaedra believed to be an unnecessary apology. She closed her eyes and sighed.

“No, Ami, you aren't to blame. You were doing your job. We all were.” False—there were several to blame, several complicit in allowing that fear-mongering article to proceed to publication without a single person bringing up the fact that it might not be a good idea. From the administrative wing of the Editor-in-Chief and Secretary to the polishing hands of the Editors and printers, not one person had thought to maintain a standard of quality control and responsible journalism.

Except, of course, Pericles. They went way back, her and him, by way of their families. Considering the fall of his own father to vampirism—and just the type of person he was in general—it was no surprise to her that Pericles had written a counter to T. Ruth; to hate speech. But Phaedra didn't see it that way. Phaedra saw it as a worthy discussion, albeit sensationalist, that most people were simply too afraid to have. After all, Pericles' article had been allowed to publish as a retort. If the Headliner had an agenda against dhampirs, would they publish its hardest-hitting counter arguments along with it? She didn't think so.

The two of them turned to her for guidance but what they would find was her pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation. Likely, by that question, Ami had meant what they could do to take back their credibility, or to mend the rifts that would surely arise among themselves. It was all too much too quickly to say for certain. “And... Just... I don't know. But we shouldn't let them get away with this, for starters.” She waved the camera around, but gave no further explanation, though the undertones probably made it obvious enough. “We don't have to take this rubbish. Any of you seen Alexx?”

Huh. Speak of the devil. When Alexx came around the corner and let out a shriek, Phaedra immediately swept to her side. “Alexx!” Grim-faced, she awkwardly brought up a hand to hover over the older girl's shoulder. Séverin was the newspaper's leader and founder after its school-wide integration. In comparison, Phaedra was her loyal paper-pusher, record-keeper, ass-kisser if one wanted to call it that. If anyone had a right to be angriest, it was Alexx. If anyone had to answer to that anger, frankly, Phaedra felt that it was herself.

Phaedra brought her hand back down without contact, and it fell flat against her side. She was never too good at consolation, try as she might. “Falentra and Howard, that's who,” she said, giving an earnest explanation. Her eyes flickered to Ami and Pericles as if trying to find what to say written on their faces, then back to Alexx. The hard truth would be a place to start. “Remember the dhampir article? Yeah. They burned our issues in the Great Hall after doing... this. We ran out as soon as we could.”

The secretary looked to her senior's face for a reaction of this in particular, her own mirroring that of tentative worry. The burnings had been far the most upsetting message. “But nothing inside was seriously damaged!” she reassured, motioning back towards the office space. At least, nothing other than the team's collective pride and credibility. “The press is fine, or rather it looks fine. Ami checked it. Right, Ami?”

The pools of paint were nearly dealt with, but no one had tried anything on the door yet. Production of their next issue was due to start soon and well, they needed privacy to work. Looping the camera's strap around her neck, Phaedra took a step away from Alexx's side and took out her wand again. “I'll handle the door. I can't bear to look at it any longer.”

Ami nodded somberly to Pericles as he arrived on the scene, any animosity (playful or otherwise) between them long forgotten. The two may have had a bit of a spat and a rather rowdy relationship, but all of that paled in comparison to the matter they had at hand. Even Ami, who could make a joke out of just about anything, seemed to be at a loss for words in light of the severity of what had just occurred.

This... this was unprecedented. She'd heard of riots and revolutions in American history of course, as well as Wizarding history, but she'd never imagined that she would be living through one here at Hogwarts. Maybe it wasn't quite the same magnitude as say, the Revolutionary War, but this was the closest she'd ever been to something of this nature, and it terrified her. For all her blustering about fighting the institution and standing up for what was right, she wasn't quite sure how to feel when people were standing up against a community she was incredibly loyal to.

"No, Ami, you aren't to blame. You were doing your job. We all were."

Ami seemed to relax slightly at Phaedra's words, although she didn't look entirely convinced. Someone had to be to blame for this whole debacle, right? Nothing like this had ever happened before. And even if Phaedra seemed content enough with blaming Howard and Falentra, part of her still felt uncomfortable about pinning the blame entirely on the pair. They weren't... "Howard's not a bad person," Ami mumbled aloud, mostly to herself. "He's not. I know he's not."

And then Alexx arrived on the scene, screaming and raging, which seemed appropriate enough for the situation. Ami's eyes immediately went to the blonde, although she made no move to go over to her. In a normal day, she would've appeared by the Editor-in-Chief's side in a heartbeat, but there was nothing she could offer to her in terms of support or reassurance. This was... this was Alexx's baby, more or less. The two of them had been on the Headliner together since the beginning, but it was Alexx who had built it from the ground up. Her numb stare and clouded thoughts would be of no help to her now, and Phaedra would do a much better job at consoling her.

"Ami checked it. Right, Ami?"

"Huh?" Ami snapped out of her daze at the sound of her name, glancing towards the Secretary and the Editor-in-Chief. "Oh, the press...? Yeah, it seems fine for the most part. I mean, unless they jinxed it..." Her voice trailed off at the thought of Howard and Falentra having maybe messed with the press to the extent that magic had been involved... Howard had never seemed like one to use magic, though, although Falentra was more of a wildcard. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she mumbled, "But uh... like I told Phaedra, I'd have to run a few pages through to make sure."

Phaedra turned her attention from Alexx to the door, and Pericles still seemed intent on getting all the paint out. Which left... Alexx. Slowly making her way over to the Editor-in-Chief in a ghostly, spectral fashion, the redhead paused in front of her with a grim expression. "We have to tell a professor," she said quietly, addressing primarily Alexx, but the two Ravenclaws as well. "We... we're not in the wrong, right? It's not tattling if it's something as bad as this..." Swallowing nervously, her gaze darted around to the Headliner members present. "Is this... is this bad enough to bring to Lear?"

@Ami Procoppio | @Phaedra Stavrou | @Alexx Séverin

What a wretched mess. Pericles had half-finished Scourgifying the splattered paint, but now ignored it in favor of discussing the general mess they were in. He, too, seemed dubious when Phaedra attempted to console Ami. The lad looked off to the side, features weighted with worry, concern only growing when the fourth-year's posture lapsed into one of exasperation. His thoughts pulled in every direction: to whatever commotion ensued in the Great Hall, to wherever Alex was once the secretary asked for her whereabouts, and back again to the culprits. Peri lingered at a loss, turning his wand between both hands as a distraction, silent in spite of hearing Ami just fine. No, he agreed internally (reluctant to risk saying anything aloud). Howard was not a bad person. This wasn't done out of sheer malice, nor mischief, but something deeper. How could he advocate that without sounding like a bleeding heart? Or, without setting off Phaedra and the formally deemed "Miss Séverin"....

Separated by school years, Alexx and Pericles had only been introduced, not necessarily acquainted. He saw her always in the office, if occasionally on the Quidditch field, and categorized her as the Headliner's lingering ghost. This Room was as much a part of her as she was of it. He had flinched when she came swearing into the hall, it didn't matter that she was shorter than him, her presence was titanic. As she looked him over, she would find his expression an amalgamation of grimness, gloominess, and vicarious guilt. In his mind's eye, the Ravenclaw likened the Slytherin to a mother dragon- one which had returned home to find someone broke into her cave and smashed her darling eggies. She was certainly breathing fire. Hogwarts loved fires. They fought everything with fires, even other fires. Now was not the time to do so metaphorically (or, for that matter, literally). The article had demonized dhampires, so the dhampires gave them a warning. If any of their number retaliated against the offenders, what then...? Would the newspaper clan and dhampiric breed be trapped in a cycle of viciousness until the school was reduced to ashes?

Mute, morose, Pericles continued to stand about awkwardly. His head hummed with conflicting thoughts, things he was struggling to say out loud. Further focus was being depleted as he resisted an old tic: when deeply upset, his chin dragged down to his chest, forcing him to contemplate his boots. For the time being, he staved it off by looking anywhere that didn't involve meeting someone's eye. Confrontation was not his forte. He preferred duelling. That had rules, operating on Logos, where he could apply a strategy and move forward. This situation wasn't nearly so simple. He wanted to say something to defend the dhampir and his sweetheart, as he experienced empathetic understanding. In contrast, he couldn't possibly condone any attack on the Headliner, and the fact of the matter was that this deserved some sort of disciplinary response.... Ami invoked the Headmaster's name. Peri promptly looked up, eyebrows arching, focus renewed. It didn't seem fair to bring Lear down on their heads, given how superficial the damage had been. And, last he had seen the old warrior, he was... worse for wear, to put it gently.

If anything had built the boy's capacity for resolution, it was becoming a prefect. Like flipping a switch, he had finally found his voice again, and managed to chime in. The tone was one of soft formality, an attempt at veiling what he was feeling. "Most of the professors have just seen them burning papers in the Great Hall..." he spoke towards Ami, apparently deciding she was the safest face present. "No doubt they'll get detention for disrupting dinner." Putting that gently, too. "I think it would be best to tell their Head of House what they've done here, because this-" a gesture towards the door "-deserves detention too, and I don't think... any Headliner prefects should be the ones to enforce it." Clean the mess, repair the damage, tell a Head, and let bygones be bygones. Easy, yes. But doable? Pericles was hesitant about making any opinionated remarks. He watched to see if Phaedra and Ami's accounts for the fact that the office itself was unharmed would be enough to pacify Alexx.

Interacting with @Ami Procoppio @Pericles Dralt & @Alexx Séverin

Ami and Pericles conversed behind her as she walked forward, her wand ready and intent. They had good points, but Phaedra shook her head at getting the higher-ups involved. “No, no. Leave Lear out of this. This matter would only insult his time. Reparo.”

As soon as she cast the spell, the office's door began to reassemble itself, the groaning of chipped wood filling the corridor like a cry. The scene was almost mesmerizing, pieces coming together as if someone had rewound a film or, she could imagine, dabbled with time itself. Once the metal hinges ironed themselves out and reattached to the doorframe, Phaedra let the rest of the repairing continue, tearing her eyes away to glance back at her peers. She drew a hand to her hip.

“I’m with Dralt. We’ll tell their Heads what they’ve done here tonight and they’ll be punished accordingly,” she announced matter-of-factly, before looking back to check on the door's progress. Bless magic; it was all coming together...until it hadn't. “If we’re lucky, that’ll douse their fire for g—Aw, hell.” Instead of the pristine door she had expected, one glaring blemish remained. They were Howard's claw marks; etched deep beneath the layer of paint that hadn't yet been scrubbed away. Phaedra's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

She wasn't one to doubt her magical capabilities, but a hopeful voice in her head insisted that maybe she just didn't do it right. Her walnut wand was raised to eye-level for a second time. “Reparo!” The incantation came more forcefully, with by a desperate shake of her wand as if it would make any difference in the outcome. It didn't. Despite her efforts, the door budged, but nothing more.

Her fingertips traced over the rough grooves. The girl didn't like it, but Reparo had technically done its job. Though at that moment, any hope Phaedra had that the Headliner office would return to its earlier state by nightfall completely shattered. “...Maybe we’ll have to bother a higher-up, after all.” For a new door, unless they could find someone who knew a fix for this problem. She certainly wasn't that handy. A hand waved around her head. “It's fine. It's fine. Let’s just finish cleaning this up and retire for the night, yeah?”

She rubbed at her temple, mouth pressed in a thin line. She wanted nothing more than to retreat to her dormitory to get ready for her patrols and take advantage of the quiet time it provided her. If that didn't work there was always the possibility of sleeping on the issue. One thing was clear though. What transpired today was over and done with—there was no use crying over it.

Skipping Alexx to keep thread going, sorry!

"Most of the professors have just seen them burning papers in the Great Hall... No doubt they'll get detention for disrupting dinner."

Ever the voice of reason, Pericles' words would soothe Ami's bubbling worries about justice and punishment. This simply couldn't go unpunished, even if Howard was her housemate and teammate. Even if she and the white-haired prefect had a rough history filled with many unaddressed and unanswered questions, at least they were on the same page here: justice had to be served, from an impartial judge. If any of the Headliner prefects (of which there were many) attempted to intervene, it could be potentially viewed by the students as extreme bias and would only rile up the offended parties even further. She shot a glance towards Alexx, who would ultimately have the final say on the matter, but Dralt made sense. He usually did, but this was a course of action she could get behind. Phaedra would chime in with her opinion, further cementing Ami's stance that Peri's proposition was the ideal one. If both Phaedra and Pericles agreed on something, then it was likely that it was the best option.

"Aw, hell."

At Phaedra's exclamation, Ami's head swiveled towards the door and the offending mark. "Aw, Phae..." she murmured, stepping up beside the prefect and running her fingers along the groove. In her opinion, the scratches gave the door a bit of character, helping differentiate the Headliner Office door from the dozens of others along the corridor. But, when you considered the intention and the context of the gouges in the door, maybe it was better to mend things and move on. "It's nothing a little wood putty and elbow grease can't fix," she added, smiling gently at the pureblood Secretary. "If you want to talk to a Head of House, sure, but honestly... I could try my hand at fixing this next weekend."

Glancing around at the various Headliner members around her, Ami nodded along with Phae's proposition to clean up and head off to bed. "We should invest in a better lock," she added grimly, nodding her head towards the door. Heading inside, she would glance around the office and tidy up some stuff before heading back outside to the corridor. "They got the paint from inside the office," Ami added, mostly thinking aloud, "So that means they got into the office... does anyone have an in with the Charms professor? Maybe we can get a protection charm on the office..."

With no other complaints, concerns, or queries, Ami would bow over-dramatically to her Headliner coworkers, shoot a somewhat longing look towards Alexx, and excuse herself to the Hufflepuff common room. The night's events had certainly given her quite a bit of food for thought, even if she'd forgotten to grab dinner.

exit ami (unless further interaction is necessary)

@Ami Procoppio | @Phaedra Stavrou | @Alexx Séverin

Pericles never cared to be called by his surname. Dralt was what they called his father, the patriarch, lord of his House. He often claimed it made him sound "too old", but the truth of the matter was the weight behind the name just didn't feel right. Still, he did not bother to tell Phaedra this; considering they had been introduced through familial matters, it made more sense coming from her. He would soon be distracted by a bigger discomfort. A chill crawled up Pericles' spine when the vampiric gauges in the wood did not dissipate. Where Ami touched them, he visibly cringed, shoulders tensing. Seeing that on their way into "work" was certainly going to have an impact on the atmosphere, but then again, that was probably the point.

Pericles had an uncanny capacity for prioritization. A singe tussle on the grounds (involving Ami's stinky pickle breath in his face and an enraging invasion of personal space) was at the back of his mind, much less important than the matter of fixing the door. She suggested improving their security, at which he chimed in "Perhaps a passcode, like those of the Common Rooms. I'm sure the professor knows how to apply one." It would keep them safe from Alohamoras at least, though for the brute force.... "I helped my father install pick-proof deadbolts before. They attach with an interlocking bolt, which prevents prying, detachment from the plate, or using leverage to lift them out of place. I could write home for one, though, we would need new keys t'be made...." The proposal was stated less like a "could", more like a "would". Unless someone insisted otherwise, Pericles would be sending the owl before bed. This was an easier conversation to have. He tried to address their situation with a matter-of-fact mien, though his feelings were clear as the freckles on his face. Unease, culpability, sadness. The last thing he wanted to get in to was how he felt about it all. When Phaedra called them to clean up and have done with it, he nodded firmly, then turned back to the soapy puddle of paint and partial spellwork.

"Scourgify." Unlike the claw marks, this paint was mundane, easily washed away. Rhythmic movements with his wand was soothing in its own right. He watched the red scrubbed free and swallowed up, bubbles folding in on themselves until there was nothing left but an unusually pristine patch of stone floor. Ami was leaving. As she bowed, Peri's mouth moved in a way that suggested he wished he was in a smiling mood, though it soon quirked into an uncertain frown. He was being left alone with an angry Alexx, and Phaedra, who was just intimidating in general. With a vaguely deer-like look between them both, he seemed on the verge of saying something, conjuring the thought only to weigh whether or not it should be put to word. Whatever it was instead ended on a cordial (if anticlimactic) "Goodnight."

Exiting scene unless further interaction