Closed character clashing pv duvessa

"You know, some of us try to keep tidy.." Rhys was brought out of their daze (and by "daze," they had been very close to dropping off into sleep), groggily lifting their head to peer around at whomever had spoken. There was only one other student in the classroom-- a girl in Slytherin robes, which were neat and put-together, unlike Rhys's. She had dark hair that fell down the the middle of her back, and eyes that at first glance seemed to be a muted green. (Though this was a vague estimate. Not only was Rhys sleepy and veering on near-sighted, the girl was across the room from them.

"..is that a new word for you? Check the dictionary, then." Said the girl, continuing. She appeared to have crinkled her nose in disgust at their rumpled appearance -- the very opposite of how her clothes were put together, and was looking at Rhys in what can only be described as severe judgment. Rhys knew the feeling of being judged all too well, especially by students of the Slytherin house. First, Bernard Waye in November before he mysteriously got "pulled out of school" (Rhys didn't believe that story for a single second. He picks a fight with them mere weeks before Christmas, and then just doesn't come back from winter break? Something was amiss.) Then, briefly, Qrow Beithir in December, until Rhys gauged that they were, in fact, good company with a tendency to be as sarcastic and stand-offish as Rhys themself could. Now, Slytherin judgment came in the form of a pretty girl who, unlike the aforementioned Slytherins, very much reminded Rhys of one of those ditsy girls in the movies who only cared for fashion and good-looks. Very much Elle Woods in Legally Blonde, or even perhaps Glinda in Wicked, though she wasn't blonde and showed no indications of being 'ditsy.' In fact, from her last words alone, she seemed keen on trying to school Rhys on the many, super, totally important ways of fashion. They yawned, making it a point to roll their eyes before letting their gaze land on the other girl. From her appearance she could've easily been a second or third year, but this was first year potions class, so Rhys used the wonderful tool of the process of elimination to deduce that she, too, was a first year. No matter, they'd have no problem retaliating whatever year she was.

"Well, I suppose we can't all look like the front cover of some over-rated fashion magazine," Rhys replied coolly, a smirk playing on their lips. "Unlike 'some of us', I don't aspire to look as if I always have a filter to make me look aesthetically pleasing." They wouldn't admit, yet, that they would have made a bit more of an effort, had they not earlier assumed that they had overslept and were running incredibly late to lessons. That was on a need-to-know basis, and this girl did not, in fact, need to know.

"No, pity some of us don't." She paused. "You frankly look as if you slept through a hurricane." But then the Slytherin laughed softly, and Rhys's face burned hotly at her next words.
"Not that you would withstand it, would you?"

Okay, firstly, just who was this girl, and what pit of hell did she spawn from? And who was she to judge whether or not Rhys would withstand a hurricane? She was the one sitting there, all Prim and Proper like some Disney princess waiting for a prince. A Disney princess that had lowered herself to criticize someone she thought of as a pauper.

Rhys gave a single laugh, keeping their composure as they gave the dark-haired first year a slow, deliberate once-over.

"Sweetness," - They said this with heavy sarcasm, letting the insult drip into the word,- "I've 'withstood' more than you would know, and perhaps more than you would be able to." They gave a half-assed smile, the kind that's tight-lipped and insincere. The kind you give when the last thing you feel like doing is smiling.

Not that they hoped it would come to it, but Rhys was more than prepared to prove to Duvessa wrong. They'd had multiple instances where they solved a confrontation with their fists, which was why they had the Muggle Condition as an ability. Though they were rather good with their wand, too. And, being well-read, they could craft insults that worked just as well.

The Slytherin gave a bored glance around the room, and Rhys rolled their eyes. Not her acting like they weren't worth her time when she had been the one to initiate this conversation.

"I suppose if you are quite finished with... whatever it is you think you're doing each time you open that prim little mouth, then don't let me keep you in the apparent perpetual state of boredom and disinterest that it appears you have entered now that you've said your piece." They made to leave.

"Oh I'm sorry, Prince of Sugar," The Slytherin first year replied coolly, again in that sickeningly calm tone. Rhys had to admit that she was perhaps as good at keeping her cool as they were at keeping theirs.

For the time being, at least.

"Oh, well, I don't think I am...yet." She tilted her head, and her cascade of black hair shifted softly with the motion. "And my state of boredom is not something for you to discuss, unless of course, your name is a box that shows images and then answers any questions about weird stuff."

Rhys had no idea what this girl was going at with the box comment, but they hardly had time to consider it more. They had just enough time to register that she had lost her condescendingly calm tone before she spoke again.

"But perhaps I should move, since it apears that I'm keeping you up." She said, as Rhys was in the middle of turning away. "Leaving so soon?" She taunted them, sneering. By now, Rhys recognized it, and their skin prickled hotly again as she muttered her next words, just loud enough for them to hear. "Said you're weak."

Rhys wheeled around, incredulous as they noted that the girl was now leafing through one of her books, apparently dismissing them despite her words. Too damn bad. She wanted a fight? Well, Rhys could certainly give one. They slammed their books down onto the table, not bothering to wait for a reaction before letting the ebony-haired Slytherin have it.

"Okay, Sweetness. You want to go? Let's go. First of all, who birthed you, and can I file an official complaint?" They huffed, rolling their eyes before sitting down harshly next to the Slytherin. Rhys made sure to sit just close enough to bother her (untidy clothes, hair, and all) but far enough away so that they didn't risk catching a case of whatever ailment the snobby Slytherin seemed to be suffering from. "But fine, I won't leave, since you insist to keep this going." They gave a shrug. "So keep going. As if it makes that much of a difference to me."

Reducio

@Duvessa Ember