Strollin' PV Max Avery Finished

Rosie squeaked when Max threw a punch at her, covering her face with her hands. But... For some reason, she never felt the impact? Well, that was because Max never punched her. She slowly opened her eyes and lowered her hands, only to be met with a flick to her forehead that she squeaked again at, rubbing her forehead and a pout forming on her face. "I know what you want." What did he mean by that? Rosie wondered.

Well, that was until he started ranting.

Rosie in no way was any sort of hero. She wasn't a brave knight, she was just a tiny Hufflepuff with some spunk. But she'd try anything for her friends, and she knew that. Rosie was silent while Max talked, taking in every word he said. He wasn't right, was he? Rosie didn't want to hurt anyone... Right?

But maybe Max was different. She didn't want him to be cruel, but how else would Rosie feel what anger was like? He brought that side out in her, even if she hated doing so. He was... Different. But right now, it seemed like something changed in Max. The angry, threatening demeanor just seemed to disappear. Rosie watched him walk by slowly and turned on her feet when he kept walking. Even she started to feel a little bad. But she didn't know what to say to him.

I mean, she thought to herself, what do you say to someone like Max Avery?

Apparently the girl had finally run out of smartass comments to say to him, because for once she didn't hurl an insult at his back while he was walking away. He should probably take one final shot at her to drop her to her knees while he walked away, but he figured he'd given her enough to think about that it wouldn't really be beneficial. Her silence spoke volumes already; what he'd said might've hit close enough to home that she couldn't come up with a retort.

It was sad. They were around the same age, but whatever upbringing she'd had really hadn't taught her what she needed to face what was out there. When someone stabbed you, best policy was to grab the hilt of the knife and slide it in a little deeper to bring them close enough to hit. He supposed that he had to consider himself lucky for learning that young. No matter how hard his childhood had been, it had forged a will of iron in him.

Pausing at the archway on the other side of the corridor, he let out a small breath through his nose. He knew exactly why he was feeling like this now. Exactly who this spunky, naive little girl had reminded him of when she'd begged for her friend's safety. "When you find your own darkness and get lost in it," he said quietly, almost too soft to hear. "I can help you. Or not. But when you come to me - in two years or ten - I can find a place for you. It's an option. I can teach you how to stop crying about it and do something." Lifting his shoulders in the laziest shrug, he lifted one hand over his head without turning around to wave, then sauntered back towards the stairs to the dorms.

"When you find your own darkness and get lost in it, I can help you. Or not. But when you come to me - in two years or ten - I can find a place for you. It's an option. I can teach you how to stop crying about it and do something."

Rosie watched Max saunter off into the darkness, and she was finally alone in the cold, empty corridors. Her gaze fell to the floor as she thought over what he said, over and over. Why was he offering help? He just called her a waste of space, so why help someone like that? Rosie must've said something. Something that set him off. But what was it? All Rosie did was tell him off. She didn't even mean half of the things she said.

Rosie opened her mouth to apologize, but by that point, Max was gone.

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. After, she turned on her heel and began to exit the corridors and head to the... Library, maybe? Yeah. Or maybe the ballroom. She could use some dancing.

But the nagging thought of what Max said stayed in her mind as she trekked out of the corridors, and into the darkness.