Snippet #2620856

Daniel continues to lazily flick through the pages. Of course, while his flick may be lazy and his eyes half-lidded, the young man is never anything less than completely alert. The occasional passing cluster of students earn a scowling little glance, and the brief interruption of a buzzing fly is ended as he smacks it against the table in a single movement. Daniel is not one to waste his energy or time if he can help it, and this shows in the cold sort of efficiency with which he works. Of course there are brief moments of warmth, a genuine smile, an act of loyalty, but only a precious few may routinely witness these minor miracles. For the rest, his only smile is a smug sort of smirk, eyebrow raised and criticisms written across his bone structure. This is Daniel, after all, not some strange patron saint of idiots who is happy to tolerate people simply for the sake of 'politeness.' He does things only where they benefit him, directly or indirectly, and this calculating tendency is something that most of his classmates have come to understand by now. Still, those moments in which he attempts to be charming often come as such a surprise that they dazzle a classmate into going with what he wants, confused of what is going on the entire time. He much prefers it this way.

There are those friendly exceptions, of course. One of them walks softly up to him. Daniel has a talent for remembering footsteps of those who matter, and she happens to fit among the group, with quiet steps. Thus it comes of little surprise when the voice of Nina Romanov chimes in behind him, reading a line that he had been lingering on before the distraction of her entrance. And there is one of those smiles- small, but sincerely amused. The young man turns his head just enough so that she is visible in his peripheral. "Good morning, your highness," he greets her with fondness. Daniel has taken to teasing her with that nickname, for many of the school have come to see her as the Queen Bee, and him the one constantly whispering in her ear. They aren't entirely incorrect. Her lips graze his cheek and, naturally, Daniel is unfazed. This is their usual routine, after all.

He marks his book with a red piece of yarn that had been wrapped between his fingers and shuts it with a somewhat satisfying little thud. "Oh my, you'll have people talking about us Miss Romanov. Now no one will ever wed me," his humor has a peculiar degree of deadpan to it, with the very slightest fluctuations in pitch and tone here and there. The execution is flawless within his own little group, but to others might be considered somewhat dry. Luckily he gives very few damns as to what anyone outside of his ring thinks of him- and he knows all of those thoughts. There is a reason many falsely believe him to be the editor of the Breadbowl, and the fact that he seems to hear every whisper is certainly part of it. Not that he would ever publish the trash thrown at his own clique that is often seen on the blog.

"I suppose the very least you can do now is take me to lunch," he adds, standing up and placing the book into a small messenger bag. "Shall we?"

A voice, seemingly out of nowhere, practically has Erin five feet up in the air from the sudden shock of it. She twists around to see the source of it and smiles brightly. It's Aimee Hart, a classmate whose face she's known for a few years now but whom she has never been particularly close with. A few shared courses here and there, maybe one or two partner projects, these are the extent of their interactions. Still, she seems like a nice enough girl, and isn't one of the Influentials, so Erin shoots up a hand and waves back right before the girl turns and walks off. Her greeting had led Erin to believe that she was about to start a conversation, but apparently not. Perhaps this is for the best, as Erin wants to go on her swim before lunch hour is over, and thus has a somewhat limited window of time for anyone who isn't going to join her in the lake. The young woman gladly turns back around and runs into the lake, water splashing loudly on either side of her. Erin may be pretty, but grace has never been her strongsuit. The closest thing to it is the movement of her hands with tools and wiring, and not many agree with her in thinking building to be beautiful.

Before she gets very far at all, Erin notices a shadow is rushing towards the surface. She begins to move away a little, but perhaps not with the speed she ought to be using. Curiosity has always been a weakness of Erin's; she can't help but follow crumb trails, even when they lead down less than safe paths. She soon wishes she had moved away earlier though, as the shadowy figure turns out to be a person just as shady has his silhouette had been. Before her stands Sterling Walker, muscles flexing in the most show-boaty way possible. In an incredibly childish move, Erin wrinkles her nose slightly as if she has just smelt something foul. "Sorry, I didn't realize this spot was taken," she says, clearly not sorry. Sterling was once one of those who shared this tradition with her, he knew very well that this was her spot. All of the water, and he chose to bother her- Erin is certain of it.

He is an asshole, after all. One she made a huge mistake with last semester- one she'd rather not be reminded of by seeing him standing their shirtless, smirking. To think they had once been friends. Much had changed since he'd left and fucked everyone else over in the process.