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@draco-pavlovic

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You can’t just hit people because they make you angry, or did you skip that day of kindergarten? [But he does look sorry; she’s just not sure if it’s practiced or genuine. And his eyes are so blue and his jaws are so chiseled and he’s just this short of physical perfection that her less-than-stellar judgement is clouded even further.] We take care of each other in here. You might want someone in your corner later, and that’s not gonna happen if you keep putting people in the infirmary just for pissing you off.
[Her gaze softens. Draco smiles inwardly, feeling that small victory bloom in the cavity in his chest, the crevice where he feels his heart should be, and he feels an echo of gladness. As she put it so succinctly, she will be in his 'corner' when he needs her. He'll make sure of that- and if he doesn't need her, well, there are other things he can do to people who make the mistake of learning to care for him.] Ah, but he was really, reeeally annoying, darling. [His says, tone teasing now, lighting the conversation slightly. He avoids the word 'love'. It would be best to appease her wishes for now.] And I'm not repeatedly putting people in the infirmary. It was only once.
So...
Unless they’re some kind of weather-person, I’d like to keep my distance away from the doctors if at all possible. [Which, of course, she knows it’s not possible but it made her feel better to say it was. Shrugging her shoulders lightly, she frowned.] I didn’t even know it could storm this bad. I’m pretty sure we’ll all spontaneously adapt to have night vision by the time this blows over, eh?
That would be pretty amazing, and would be much appreciated. [It would and it wouldn't, really. Draco feels more comfortable in darkness, when he's alone or doesn't need to slip on his mask of manners and charm. The dark clings to him like a blanket and is twice as comforting; no one can see him in the dark, no one needs to know his name- and yet he can still make them fear him. But then, when he needs to be polite, and pleasing, and kind, Draco likes to see their faces. He likes to see their reactions and the push and the pull and the breaks in their features and emotions. It's hard to read a person by voice, the color is far too muted. But he still he smiles at her, smiles like she can see him, there in the dark, sounding genuinely amused at her words.]
Don’t call me that; I’m not your ‘love.’ [Her voice is irritable as she shoots an angry glance at him, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that does something to her. The broken girl couldn’t resist broken boys; how typical. But she’s not so naive anymore, she tells herself, and after a tense pause she opens her mouth again. Men have been watching her lips move since before it was ever okay to do so, but few ever cared about the words that came out of them. But it’s obvious Draco cares about what she thinks of him, she just doesn’t understand why.] If I asked you why you did it, would you tell me?
[He watches her quietly; but it's a restless sort of quiet, a quiet that yearns to be something darker and better and bloodier- but no, that is not what Draco needs to do here, no matter how much me might want to. He needs to persuade her that he cares, (an emotion he has not expressed honestly to anyone since he was a child), and he needs to do it to perfection. Luckily, he's had plenty of practice.] He made me angry. He...he was disrespectful. If it makes you feel better, he did land a few punches of his own. Honestly, it was pretty even with the injuries, besides his wrist.
So...
Does anyone have any idea when the lights will be less… flicker-y and dim? I feel like I’m slowly going blind.
Probably when the storm's over, love. I dunno, really. You might want to ask a doctor or someone with some semblance of authority.
[Draco leans against a wall, tilting his head back and squinting at said "flicker-y and dim" lights above.]

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Ah, yes.
How very charming love. Is that one of those things that you say to make all the girls fall at your feet?
Or am I just special?
It was sarcasm, sweetheart. But you can call it flattery if it makes you feel better. [Despite his light tone, the darkness and announcements have made him irritable. He doesn't bother too much with being particularly polite.]
True, there are. But it depends on which ones you see intersecting. Every trait is a line, is it not? They make webs when they connect with others. [Her eyebrows raise and she gives a half-smile back.]
Feeling metaphorical today, are we, love?
Ah, yes.
"Originality expressed so well…"—dryly said.
[Draco laughs softly. He'd have thought of a better line than the soul one, but it's hard to think when you can't see who you're talking to.] Yes, I wield my wit in a most incredible fashion, I know.

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Ah, yes.
A man of courage would seek to mend his withered self with prayer, piety, or good works, would he not? A dark man declares and doth accept his fate of wickedness. And if you jest, mayhap I should grin and declare a rotted essence thusly?
But can you be a dark man and a man of courage? [Draco is not one who should be getting into philosophical debates, but he finds this man's Shakespearean speech both challenging and amusing. They're both supposed to be insane anyway, he might as well.] Joke however suits your fancy. Lewd, witty, rude, all fine with me. Fire away, sir.
Ah, yes.
[Stumbles through the darkness, not altogether comfortable with the proceedings. The voice he hears startles him.] ’Tis the darkest of men who doth claim a withered soul, good sir.
Or perhaps the bravest man, eh? Takes courage to assess your own soul and all that. [He squints towards the man, trying to take in his features. Does he look as odd as he sounds?] Besides, you should relax. It was only a joke. Maybe
Ah, yes.
And very much like my heart. [Selene smirks at the patient, before breaking into a light laugh of her own.]
Ah, love, I'm sure y'have a heart of gold. [He grins into the dim light, straining to see Selene.]
Ah, yes.
[Draco blinks in the sudden darkness.] I like this. It's black. Like my soul. [He laughs quietly at the not entirely untrue joke.]
The same page. Okay. [She shrugs.] What are you seeing that makes us rather alike. A person is never a few traits, but a melange of hundreds, if you can think of the words.
But there are always bits and pieces of personality and ideas that mesh, is there not? [He is tiring of her. But she IS very pretty, and tough, too. She could prove interesting at some point, so he tacks on an interested, kindly smile.]

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There's a hole in my soul I can't fill it I can't fill it There's a hole in my soul Can you fill it? Can you fill it?