Closed Ready? PV ONGOING

Interacting with:@Draven Mirador

"Clean up what?" Draven blinked, before noticing the girl to his left haphazardly stuffing her notebook in her bag and booking it towards the exit. "...oh. Uh-"

His bag had gone unopened for the better part of the day. He'd only tugged at the straps, pulling it shut tighter occasionally. Inside, pretty much his entire life was stored. His change of clothes, the ripped up, dog-eared copy of Despereaux , a faded ballpoint pen with faded lettering proclaiming 'Friends of Amber' atop it. A stress ball that was much more stress than ball by that point.

Pretty much everything that mattered.

His textbooks were in there too. Somewhere.

"I was spaced out the entire time," he admitted, picking up Deimos and setting him atop his shoulder. "All clean-" Picking up his bag, Draven pushed his chair in and dusted himself off. His clothing, although secondhand and old, was clean at least. It smelled dubiously like the bar of lemongrass soap the boy carried around. Faded jeans and a gray hoodie. Not much to look at, but comfortable.

The spider made a face that Draven supposed was meant to be annoyed, and then climbed up into the boy's hair, finding a spot between the new roots and curling up quietly. It tickled.

Excitedly chatting with and sniffing:@Draven Mirador

"I just cheat off Brown," Draven deadpanned, nodding towards the girl dodging and weaving desks, her arms full of books and a determined expression on her face as she trudged towards the exit. The professor, who was busy collecting assignments nearby, side-eyed him.

"We've both got Baird next right," the boy asked, or rather, had been about to ask. Because he was found face to face with the girl, who- smelled him? Drave cringed. He'd slept in his clothes for the past two days, and as nice as the lemongrass was, he doubted the smell of teenage boy was anything pleasant. Showering was-...as disgusting as the thought was...an issue for the wizard nowadays. And with his hair growing out, it was becoming more and more apparent.

His cheeks burned. Merlin, what was wrong with her. "Y-yeah," he stammered, clutching his bag closer to his body, pressing his arms down against his ribs. He wished to disappear. He wished the earth would swallow him up right then, and never allow him back out. He wished to become one with the floor.

Draven sidestepped the excited girl, biting so hard on the inside of his cheek he tasted blood. "Later, Griffis," he said, inching towards the doorway.

@Alyssea Brown | @Octavius Baird

Apologizing and bribing being awakward with:@Draven Mirador

"I mean we're going the same way anyway," Draven conceded. "...cookies would be great," He took the chocolate chip pastry he was being offered, holding it gingerly as he broke it, probing it by habit.

It was nice. Crumbly, fresh, and sweet smelling, with a mix of white and dark chocolate and nuts peeking out from the outside. Draven blinked as ginger hair and a familiar, freckled face appeared before his eyes. Juni. Man, it had been a while since he'd thought of her.

"Did you make these?" he asked as they set off down the hallway towards the Astronomy Tower. The kitchen elves allowed students down in the kitchen sometimes. It was a long climb to a longer flight of stairs, and his knees were already protesting at the thought, but a late-night snack was always welcome. Speaking of late night-

Draven frowned at the blinding daylight outside. "It's gonna be another lecture," he groaned, and Deimos chittered unhappily from his spot in the boy's hair. At least Baird, in his ramblings, managed to make them fun. There was a disorganized chaos to his classroom that scratched Draven's brain in the right way. The Astronomy tower was....well. Safe.

Calming down and cookie munching with:@Draven Mirador

"At least at night, I can take a nap," Draven sighed. He'd hidden behind her numerous times, broad shoulders protecting him from the man's watchful gaze. "I'd strongarm you into the kitchen," he joked. "...but-...well look at me." He held out his bony hands, with wrists so painfully thin you could wrap your fingers around them. Draven would have resembled an undead thing if you weren't paying attention. He was thin and sickly, the muscles he'd gained from quidditch so long ago having disappeared. Merlin, he didn't doubt that if she put her mind to it, a light shove from Griffis would send him tumbling backward and probably break something.

Draven swallowed past the knot that had formed in his throat, cautiously putting a bit of space between them.

"His name is Deimos," He said, thankful to be saved by the bell. Well. By the spider. "He's a three year old black webber. Venomous and grumpy." That last bit was a lie, but unless she was into Magical Creatures, it would keep her hands decidedly off his spider, and onto those cookies.

Stretching himself out, Draven held open the door to the stairwell for Griffis, pushing against the rotting wood with the tips of his fingers. "Ladies first-"