🐉the drayster🐉

———

It’s an ungodly hour. Fake “goodnights” and all.

Drayton 12:17 PM yo boss. uh, i was dead asleep and the others were busy. im really sorry none of us could intervene want me to ban her???

Alison 12:19 PM It’s fine, I’m fine. Just got complicated. On my end.

Drayton 12:58 PM im not fucking stupid, you ain't fine but wtv i know you enough don't give no shit about getting help

Alison 1:01 AM There’s nothing to help with. You can’t change how people see me.

Drayton 1:01 AM i can try

Alison 1:05 AM I don’t have time to be weak

Drayton 1:08 AM because bedrotting in your dormroom makes you strong

Alison 1:08 AM I was already sick. I have a pass. You like to lay around too who are you to judge

Drayton, 1:11 AM when im getting my shit rocked by some random ass lady i dont lay around

Alison 1:12 AM That woman doesn’t use punctuation I’m above her

Drayton 1:13 AM punctuation or no she still talked lots of shi

Alison 1:15 AM I can’t argue with staff when I’m running under the table operations. It’s not a matter of me it’s a matter of my clients.

Drayton 1:18 AM wtv good night

Alison 1:19 AM night

There’s an activity status- lie to each other, it holds no weight.

Some academy hired secretary barged into a student owned and operated gliscord server to cull “bad behaviors” and ended up gossiping among the student body. Alison’s name came up and crude calls of her character echoed.

she stood, visibly spent, tired eyes, and cooking wine (certainly not up to her usual drinking standards) after a series of hasty and almost unending knocks.

“do you want to talk about it or not”

this is transactional, there is no small talk, no awkward heys or hellos, ‘I drink or I leave’. ‘I have no guts to spill without a little liquor’. She came of her own accordance.

She came alone (no aid in sight) and she sent no warning.

For the ever punctual Alison it was all a broken mold. the girl meant to hold him together academically is in shattered shambles at his doorstep.

After the dry messages he received, he wouldn't have expected her to come all the way to his dorm room. But yet she did, and they're both lonely, so who is he to refuse?

"You can come in." She knew his dorm by heart now, even cleaned it. He went to reach his mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine and a can of beer. "Pick your poison."

He said. He knew what she would go for already, but better give the illusion of free choice to someone in a fragile state.

Her feet padded against the vinyl flooring…god she’s not even wearing shoes.

“I half expected you to run dry with…you know.”

Parties and such. Popularity. Why else would she bring her own supplies, shitty supplies- but supplies. Not like she’s desperate. She favored wines…taking the neck of the bottle.

“I also know my fair share of dirty sodas but you don’t seem like a creamer kind of guy- never mind.”

Her head is scattered. Tangents and fast wording on single breaths. Minimal room to get a word in. She reached in his cabinets for a glass, propping onto her toes.

“I’m not sure where I’m supposed to start.”

"I never run dry, don't ask how. I'm just good at it!" He sat back into his bed, watching her pour wine into her glass. "Well, don't know either. Maybe how that really makes ya feel?"

Felt weird to ask this. Felt weird to care that much. He never did that with anyone older than him, but that's different. At least that's what he would like to think.

Her brows gave a heavy knit, the bottle a crisp release before pouring into a comically casual school branded mug. First thing she sees. League club merch.

“You are the last person I need to recognize me as weak.” it’s a heavy start as well as a tiptoed statement. 'I feel weak' …that’s just too vulnerable. “It would greatly harm my position as your tutor. Like—I dunno, some fitting analogy.”

Knowing your therapist personally, maybe?

"Oh c'mon," He reached for an energy drink, this night was going to be long. "I've seen you high and put you in time-out and I'm still scared of ya hitting me. Spill."

To him that was stupid. Alison would stay Alison no matter what. The same girl he was too scared to call "friend". The same girl with whom he had a rivalry with over Carmine. Just Alison.

“Wasn’t high.”

She’d die on that hill. Maybe tonight would prove it.

“Even just pouring a glass...settles my nerves. Everything’s so tight.” do not say that’s what she said.

“I got a cough and used that to stay in bed- i skipped my responsibilities over the sinus equivalent of a paper cut, I just wanted to stop existing for a minute and everything fell apart even in my absence.”

Fancy words… She drank from the mug like morning coffee, held the glass to her lips in a long pause to soak. …probably about to get a lot less fancy.

He took a sip from his own caffeinated drink and sighed. He didn't understand her forceful denying. It's not like she was at fault for getting her drink drugged at a stupid party she wasn't even supposed to attend.

"You know how that school is to you. To folks like... us. So mean. I get watcha mean by not existing stuff but in here? That's not possible. It's not like that was on you, anyways."

She started to look really weird to him. Maybe it's just the night's effects. Nothing looks the same at night.

She stepped away from the kitchenette. Clearing their distance. She wants to ignore the value she puts in his opinion. 

Wanted to ignore how small she felt when he assumed she’d been so easily drugged so early into what was honestly her first real school party.

“I keep my chin up. No matter what is thrown at me.”

It’s the first law she remembered for stage presence, not posture…no. The demand to keep any double chins out of sight in the limelight. Her own instructor.

“Where does some loose middle age mortgage paying bitch get off gossiping about me with other students?”

Words spoken far too softly for the vile in their waver. 

She lied to her brother to be here. Feigned being okay and getting tired to hop off a game she picked for this.

Drinking wine in a washed up ex champions dorm room closer to when curfew ends than when it begins.

He watched her get closer, that stupid old mug in hand. Made a gesture towards that desk chair he barely used, in case she wanted to sit.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That's why you shouldn't give a fuck."

That's what he always did, what worked for him: not caring.

Got him in more bad situations than anything else but it still worked from time to time. That's the only advice he could think of at the moment, anyway.

She trailed his gesture, almost objected and held her tongue. Taking the seat offered.

“I tried that.” Her shoulders sag. A damp hunch in her back. Made her look like she was cowering. “Just made me fall apart harder.”

She wants to tell him she’s just not like he is- but that’s an admission of weakness in itself, isn’t it.

He went from laying to sitting on his bed. It sure is going to be... more complicated than he thought.

"...Fair. And confronting a grown ass woman isn't a smart option either. Mhm."

He stayed in silence for a few seconds, trying to think of a solution. He's Drayton. He always finds a solution. Just like his grandfather does.

"Whaddya think about telling Cyrano?"

It would do nothing. They're not Naranja-Uva. They don't have a caring director. But it could give him time, and maybe give her reassurance.

She looked up at him. A second of shame glossed her gaze as it went right back to looking down her nose at the contents of her cup. Turning the mug back to her lips.

“That’s probably already been done…by a couple people now…”

Her lips sucked in taunt as she shifted through the uncomfortable admission.

“….i made a bit of a scene.”

From friends to family she's not proud of the fact she scurried away for help.

He sighed. More anger could be heard this time. "Fucking snitches..." He whispered.

He knew what people thought of Alison. It's a 50/50 of people seeing her as an inoffensive baker or some creepy menace. That stupid secretary sure as hell isn't helping her case.

"I can– I can always try giving my point of view of the story to him. He knows better than to ignore me."

She scoffed with an underlying heave.

“What’ll it matter if he doesn’t take any of it seriously in the first place.”

That man lived in a personal bubble of self fulfilling dreams. It was all about him. It’s almost admirable.

“What’s said is said and when women like her in power say those things they don’t go away- I’m an object of pity or just…”

Her expression scrunched as she trailed off her stumbling pace. Her words falling over each other in a frantic haze.

“…kids follow her lead because that’s what you're supposed to do. You mimic your adults. And when your role model picks on the only girl in the line clinging to her baby fat you don’t forget it.”

Oddly specific example to ramble on.

'I need a cigarette.', that's almost what he wanted to say. But he still needed to make her feel a bit better doing that. That's what gramps would do.

"That old hag's insane. Outdated and insane. There's like 6 months left before you graduate and you prolly heard worse. Are you seriously going to let some demented lady cause your downfall? Really?"

Why’d he have to say that- “Oh my god- I graduate in like six months-???” She spun his desk chair, tabling her glass with a deep shaky pout. Hands going to her hair and tugging at her scalp. Her breathing spelled just as much distress as her expression.

“I’m gonna go home- and I’m gonna be all alone- and all anyone will remember of me is…is- this!”

She gestures widely to herself, the mess that she’s spiraling into.

Holy Zekrom & Reshiram. He needed that damn cigarette. A blunt even. "Chill out! Chill out. Aight?"

He went towards his mini fridge yet again, to get a fresh bottle of water this time. He went towards Alison and placed it directly in her hand.

"And since when do you care about the opinion of people you'll never see again?"

He was standing right in front of her, arms crossed. Almost with a grounding tone.

She looks at it like it’s totally foreign for a second- when did he even stand up? She’s not sure but she knows the world is ending.

“Since….always..?” She meekly hissed past her teeth, whatever part of her ego that hurt to say is overshadowed by her current state of dread. 

Why else would she act…like that. 

She’s gonna go home, she’s not getting her family's gym, she’s got no idea what career path she wants, and all the people she likes are gonna be stuck in different regions because she’s an exchange student- and everyone knows she’s doomed the older she gets.

Water doesn’t fix that. If she was two glasses deep on the wine she hasn’t downed yet this wouldn’t be so terrifying.

This was such a foreign look on her face to him. He always knew her as someone that acted as if she was above everyone, which wasn't always false.

"Doesn't sound like something the Alison I know would say. Try again until ya get the correct answer."

This time he sat directly on the desk and turned her chair so they would face each other. It's his turn to play tutor.

He’s just spun her like a doll. Since when is he allowed to do that. and since when did he give a shit-

“Since…grade school? At least?”

The questions muddle her head. Since when did she care- was she supposed to track that? Do you track apathy and empathy the way you track a period? Is she doing this wrong?

"Wrong answer, again. Don't start making me think you're bad at this."

Grade school? What a joke. The Alison he knows has always been uncaring of what people thought of her. He knows this well, she became his tutor despite his disagreement to this. She barks. And she definitely bites.

Bad at this… Bad at this. She’s not bad at anything-

“I care…when it means I look bad.” Her expression held stern….it is short lived. “-because I don’t want to die alone and clearly I’m on course to die alone.”

Huh. He wasn't expecting this. What is he even supposed to answer? He gave her a flick on the forehead.

"Tell me, are the people in there the kind of people you want to die with? The kind of people you want to impress? Be serious."

She flinched and recoiled like a skitty to water. Be serious…

Carmine, Drayton, Dorothy, Ace, Carmine, Drayton, Dorothy, Ace, Carmine…

“okay…like…1% of them…but that might be a me problem.” She just sulks a little harder. “I still want to be….eugh…”

Cringed long before she finished that sentence. Remembering who she’s speaking to. He wouldn’t let her live it down.

Ha. He was getting somewhere. That strategy isn't as stupid as he thought it was. "Still want what? C'mon, maybe you can get at least one right answer."

It’s cheap. It’s childish. It’s difficult and overall drags the entire thing out in a flavorless fashion.

She covers her mouth with her sleeve in the least subtle manner possible and grumbles her answer unintelligibly. And she hates herself for it.

He was getting close. Really close. It was almost dangerous territory.

"Lilli," pulling the dumb nickname card. "I can't hear ya. An unclear answer counts as a wrong answer, yanno?" Another flick to her forehead. Dangerous move.

She swats and hisses at him like a bratty child

“Ugh fuck off! You don’t deserve the pleasure of me wanting your social credit!”

Wanting to be like him. Rewarded with a sneer.

I still want to be revered like you…

He played with the bomb and it exploded. Just as he knew it would happen. He lost his natural grin for an instance, but got it back quickly. Can't let her make assumptions. "Ha?" He laid his back against the wall.

That was such a stupid thing to want. There's no worth in being popular when you still stay lonely. But he knows better than saying that. She'll get mad at him assuming he knows what she wants better than her.

"That's surprising from you. You seem like the kind of girl to... not care about that."

“I put in a lot of effort to stay near your level.” She can’t say at- she’s not there yet. She keeps pushing but as he’s reminded her she doesn’t have forever to try. 

“Not just so I can do my job- yes that’s magical-” she spat “but because you have it…so good.”

She slacks and lets the untouched water go abandoned.

“People don’t underestimate you. They know they can’t push you around so they don’t even try.” And she’d finally come so far. “It all feels wasted now.”

He glared at her for a second. "Right." He picked up the martyr bottle and started fidgeting with it.

"Maybe it's all wasted. Maybe. Or maybe, you can compare that to a crash test. School, this hell of a school especially, is some dumb ass simulation for real life. That's what gramps said atleast."

He had no idea what 'real life' was like, he could only trust Drayden on that.

"Now you know what to do and what to avoid once you'll be back in your cold ass city."

“Avoid the city mayor spreading rumors I’m Jack the Ripper reborn?“ She snaps out of this strange therapy session “I’m here to drink my feelings and you’re talking me through them since when do you do that?”

Acting like he’s above substance abuse.

He shrugged. At least he tried? Still felt like a failure even though he got close.

"Don't know. Just curious. Nothing is keeping you away from continuing your drinking session, though."

Her lips formed a frown. The chair wheels push her back a little. Her legs kicked an idle sway.

“I don’t get you either…”

She shouldn’t care.

He giggled. It was discreet but in the silence of the night it was all you could hear.

"Arc forbid a guy is nosy, huh?"

He got up, enough tutoring for tonight. Laid back in his bed, he could've pulled out a cig but he wasn't sure about how well Alison's already sick body would react to the smoke.

She watches him. Just long stretching silent watching, full of hesitation and frustration…

Acting just as she’s accused of being.

“…are we?”

Between the gravely sore throat that still stuck around after days of rest and other reasons unbeknownst to him, she didn’t raise above a hush whisper.

He raised back his head from his pillow, curiosity in his eyes.

"Are we what? Litten's got your tongue?"

It'll probably be something silly. Maybe "rival"

“Friends.”

She’s going soft on him.

The question felt overdue.

He opened his sleepy eyes wide. That was the last question he would've expected. "Friend." He repeated. As if hearing the word coming out of his own mouth could give another meaning to the word. A less positive connotation. 

He was no longer looking at Alison, his eyes were fixed to the ceiling. That same ceiling he's been staring at in the dark since he's thirteen years old, with no thoughts, like a blood-sniffing Sharpedo.

He wasn't sure. Normally, he would've answered via what Alison would want to hear. He didn't know what she wanted to hear.

He always thought of Alison as so high and mighty, especially standard wise. He should be nothing but a client, not someone that she would want to be associated with.

That's what he assumed since forever. But there was this tone in her voice. This tone he never heard before, making him think that maybe, in her drunken state, she wants to be his friend. 

Better to play safe. It's not worth getting embarrassed for. 

"What do you think?"

She thinks his non-answer is the biggest answer she’s gonna get. She was bothersome, clingy, stubborn, bossy— head over heels for his girlfriend.

He’s just naturally dry in his humor. Dry just how she liked. Dry like Gordie…

“I think I’m in your dorm and you probably want me to leave.”

Her head held straight but she couldn't stop herself from sounding dejected.

Flawed by design. She’s human.

He sat on his bed, not quite facing her. His eyes going to the picture of Iris he had on his wall instead. Assuming what he wants is one thing, being wrong about it is another. He's lonely, the night hours where he can't find sleep reminds him of that further.

Her presence is nice, even in this situation. But he can't say that. Can't just admit all that.

"No, I don't? Wouldn't have accepted for you to come in the first place if I didn't want you here."

“Then what is this…”

Her accent slurred, repetitively patting her cheeks, each swing a little harder to get her head somewhat straight.

“This, this letting me stay? Taking me to parties? Roping me into your little hang outs- and then you just…carry on.” 

Talking with her hands her glasses push up her bangs, fingers going from her temples to rub her eyes.

Lashes feel stiff, that awkward stiff you only really get from crying, irritating. 

“You get along with Ellie, you insist we’re anything but friends, but you message me and you get mad when I’m not standing up for myself- and you let me stay here and be a basketcase at your desk, you let me fawn over your girlfriend and drink your supplies—”

Still sore over Ellie, you’d think that would pass. No telling if he’d even remember what she’s on about.

“What is this? Why are you so confusing.”

His breathing got a bit heavier than what he wanted to.

He wasn't used to seeing Alison like this. He didn't like seeing Alison like this. It reminded him of Iris and all the time she came and cried to him. 

"I guess... I guess I'm just confusing."

Gramps described him as that, so did Amarys, Leon and pretty much everyone. 

Maybe that really is the truth. He is treating her like a friend, he would like to be her friend.

"Let me rephrase what I said earlier— Do you want to be my friend?"

That's the type of thing children on the playground say. 

This is his first time asking…anyone.

“Kinda what I thought we were…”

It was her default for the longest time, she only second guessed it when he wouldn’t say it. In her mind it's either pity or he’s ashamed of her.

“If you don’t want me, you don’t want me. I’d rather you just say it.”

Her walls stand so high.

His eyes went towards her, a small grin formed on his face. Not his usual provocative one, it was a grin that almost had... a childish innocence to it. Friends. He’s only ever had the E4 as his friends.

Fred was more of a bit. Ruth probably doesn't consider him a friend either. He went so far in his act of friendliness that it's really his default.

When you treat friends and acquaintances the same way, it's safer to assume everyone is an acquaintance.

"You're my friend." He looked at his hands for an instant. It felt weird to say this. "I'm glad to be your friend.”

Boyishly…born yesterday boyish.

That smile. “…” That blasted smile.

“And you…hm”

No formal response felt accurate to this situation. Perhaps that’s why the practice of asking fell out of favor with age. It’s hard.

Narrowing her gaze at him like he’s something to be suspicious of. Narrowing to compensate for her loosened tongue.

“No takesies backsies.”

She can’t pose it as a question she’d probably kill herself trying.

This felt childish. In a good way. Maybe they'd be good friends if they met back then. He stood up from his bed and walked towards her, offering his smallest finger.

"I got something better," He always did this with Iris. Maybe Alison is not that different. Maybe. "I pinky promise."

She stared, at first utterly bewildered, then like handed solid gold.

A soft part in her lips, a gently cocked brow…and a giggle. A soft billowing giggle. Pinching at the corners of her eyes and filling the apples of her cheeks with a thin high smile.

“Stupid…”

She hooked her pinky to his, dominant to non-dominant hand. Giving a firm flex. Locking him in.

"Then that's settled…”

 “We're friends." He dragged the chair to be closer to his bed, falling back onto the creaky bed springs "Now what? What do friends do? Are we supposed to just... do the same stuff..?"

“I suppose…”

her posture fixed with a leveled tone for the close proximity, hands in her lap.

“we can be annoying together now?”

Tag teaming. Like she’d asked to do at his party. Work together.

Carmine would hate it.

That shit-eating grin. His usual one. Now that's what he's used to.

"Now, we're talkin'." He makes a finger gun gesture. Fucking idiot. "That's an honorable revenge. Just they wait."

Those worries seem to fade from view looking at the dumbass in front of her, or rather her dumbass friend who took this long to define them as such.

Big and popular, future gym leader, mischievous dork. And now bonded to her to not drag her name through the mud when the time comes, when people ultimately turn to question her character Drayton can vouch for her, forcing herself into his life was for the better…

it gets her tired eyes to relax, “just they wait…” echoed like mental reassurance, it shouldn’t sound so sweet.

He stood up suddenly, grabbing yet another energy drink.

"Any victim in mind? That Kalosian guy maybe?" He’d drink it all almost in one sip, a rattle of low liquid slashing the internal tin lining of the small can. "I'm bored. I'll take any victim."

The only reason she’d sneak around without her support aid would be for the sake of making bad choices, originally to get wasted but that’s a plan that was left as quarter full as her glass.

“How much trouble would we get in for targeting staff?”

Luckily she is just full of bad ideas tonight.

Finger on his chin, he was fake-thinking. He knew perfectly what she had in mind.

"None, as long as we don't get caught."

He doesn’t even second guess her. That feels so good.

“And really…who would believe her about two star students. Academic strength and battle strength.”

She picked at her nail, having Drayton made a pattern…. 'Damn these successful kids and their youthful ways' old coot territory.

"Settled then. We just need a plan..."

Now that was going to be fun. Pranking Alison was always entertaining. But pranking with Alison? Revolutionary. Perfect pair.

"Oh and also get ya some shoes. Walking barefoot makes more noises in the corridors."

“Shoes-" She buffered like a laggy laptop. Glancing down at herself like she needed a refresher “Oh! Shoes! Wait like, tonight you wanna do this now??”

She’s normally not this slow.

"Now or never, nah?" He liked his stuff done immediately. The quicker it's made, the less people would suspect that he's planning something. "I can lend ya some crocs?"

Her hand placed to her chest in utter offense “Well first off I’d rather die than wear crocs.”

There’s her standards.

“And what exactly are we doing? Because I was gonna suggest laxatives…”

She’s a cook, her first thought is always going to be slipping something into something it shouldn’t go in.

"Mean to me." He got back to laying on his bed. Alison is not Crispin, neither is she Iris. She won't follow him blindly while he makes up a plan on the go. No other choice to actually sit down and think about it. Like he did for Kieran. "I was thinkin'... trashing her office. Laxatives work too, I guess."

She couldn’t lie, an angry part of her really liked the sound of that. A rational part of her feared that willingness to destroy over her ego alone.

“…you think we could make her quit?” She spoke before thinking, now stumbling out a half baked thought. “Like…do a lot of stuff…gradually…make her just give up.”

It’s psychological warfare. That’s what she wants.

Is this something moral to do? Probably not, but we're talking about an adult. No need to "what would gramps do" when it's about an adult. Drayton didn't like adults in this school. Just can't trust them. One less can only be beneficial to him.

"Hell yeah, we can."

You'd think he was about to participate in an already won battle. Being so sure is almost... scary.

Bullying other students' no good. Making a terrible adult quit torturing teenagers is nothing but a noble mission.

“She’s used to picking on kids, students with much more normal families than us- I don’t think she’s had a kid push back yet.”

she leaned in a little, an odd crease in her brow

“Not like this at least…not seriously.”

The phrase ‘I want her gone' sits at the tip of her tongue and goes unsaid. Instead enunciated by the sneer tugging her lip.

“You’re champion ranked, I’m a strategist, she’s one person.”

"Then that's war,"

He stood up for good. Grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen and dragged the chair back to the desk.

"We just need more precise ideas. And disguises maybe."

He keeps fucking dragging her— She grips the arms of her seat, her legs tucking as the brief wind blurs all her audible senses from point A to point B.

“I…idea and- disguises?”

There’s an audible “woo” as she adjusted, turning up to him in a hazed set of blinks before smiling thin.

“Ah yes I’ll wear a dashing suit and a monocle. And you my lovely housewife. Who’d suspect us.”

Got a giggle out of him. Would that make Carmine the mistress in this situation?

And to whom…

"Was thinking more sunglasses and mustaches. You know. The usual. Maybe hats too, our hair is kinda recognizable."

He started writing that on the paper. Arc, his handwriting was horrible.

She peers over his grip pulling her glasses back down to squint at his writing.

“Aren’t hoodies a little more traditional..? Every student gets one in the school colors. Even if they seldom wear it because….ugly.”

She considers their logistical crime scene with things more stereotypical than comical. You’d think she’s done this before.

“Hats only cover the top of your head, or get a bald cap and look like Granbull…”

A surprising reference from someone with no outward music taste and certainly not music taste that includes Granbull.

"You're no fun. You'll wear that damn mustache."

He opens one of the desk's drawers. Fake mustaches. A lot. Of different shapes and colors. Why?

"But maybe hoodies do work better. Neither of us would make a good Mr. Worldwide."

“Why do you-” She’s sidetracked away from the obvious question “What? Am I too big to be Mr. Worldwide?”

Wide is in the name.

Alison at night became another person. That was just another proof of that. He started cackling the quieter he could. Dragons, that was random.

"That.." He said between giggles. "That has nothing to do with that!"

“Right, right, totally.”

The most sarcastic nodding along ever, the droning ‘totally’ taking from valley girls like Ellie. Who would absolutely mean it seriously.

“Because women dress like Granbull all the time so it can’t be that.”

"Trend-following, unfunny women dress as Granbull all the time," He corrected. "The same kind that dress up as the Lorax. You're better than that."

Words that he never thought that he would say to his tutor. Almost distracting him from the making of this damn plan.

“It would be the perfect crime in a sea full of them…”

Alas they are not committing a crime at a Granbull show. A wishful plot indeed.

"Whatever! It's now or never."

He opened his closet. Just as was a mess as his writing. He grabbed his school hoodie and put it on. Immediately keeping the hood.

"Let's go by your dorm to grab your hoodie and some shoes, aight?"

She stands, her legs feel fuzzy and cold as they regain blood flow.

“Again, where are we going..?”

Sitting down long enough to go from a mental breakdown to a crime plan will do that. She’s totally lost track of time here. She hopes it’s not a bother. Being here so late.

"Your dorm then the old hag's office. I stole keys from the previous one some years ago. Not sure if they still work but eh?"

He immediately started helping her up. He was used to night operations. Doing everything when everyone's asleep. No wonder he's always napping in the day.

“You what-”

He’s so unpredictable she can’t stand it. It's exactly why she didn’t let him turn her down, he has no strict schedule, he just…does whatever.

“Drayton this is serious.”

He looked her in the eyes. He never really did that.

"What she did was serious too. Do you want that revenge yes or no? Last chance to decline."

“…Of course I want revenge…”

Bargaining her anger over her reason. Not fair.

Grabbing her by the wrist now. He only did that during the party. He never would've thought about doing it again.

"Then let's move!"

There’s no verbal rebuttal, only a shrill squeak as her feet forced to move with her body.

He’s faster than a Gardevoir. Didn’t have a Gardevoir’s foresight either.

Last person who dragged her down a dorm hall was Ellie, she dread that.

This not so much.

He made sure to leave his dorm room's door unlocked in case they needed to hide quickly. Nothing interesting to steal in here anyways.

Had to hurry up and stay quiet. It was that simple. Dropping by her dorm was a swift and simple ordeal.

She motioned for him to sit down and shut up, slipped inside trying to not wake her aid, and grabbed her flats and a hoodie she immediately remarked as- “Fucking hideous, innit?” on her way out.

"Shh..." There are light sleepers in here. It would be better to not have any witnesses. "It is pretty ugly, yeah."

A whisper. Probably not loud enough for Alison to hear. He realized that a bit too late. Eh. Not worth repeating.

She put it on to her own hair's resistance to keep going. It’s tight and uncomfortable. A ballerina should be perfectly suited towards a stealth mission, taught to be silent and soft in every movement.

Being a slow burn little D deaf nerfed her into being painful average at it.

When they arrived in front of the door, Drayton reached for his pocket and pulled out a key. It was definitely a school key. An old school key, but a key nonetheless.

"There she is..."

He mumbled to himself before turning back to Alison.

"Cover me. If you see someone coming, you tell me and we run."

She squinted at him, “What?” Too many words too low.

Could he have picked a worse partner.

He was struggling to insert the key. Dragons, maybe they changed the lock?

"I said cov–" He suddenly went silent. Staring at the door. "It's open."

Her lips pursed into a small 'o', peering into the dark office.…

“Well look at you, way to go…”

She chittered a coddling praise. Vaguely insulting coddling praise. As if she’s done anything at all.

"Ladies first."

He gestured. That shit-eating grin on his face.

She stepped in slowly, not letting herself stray far if he has some motive to lock her in…which he probably isn’t 100% against.

“Yeah, so I can get the harder punishment if we get caught.”

As if it wasn’t guaranteed by her lack of school league status.

She’s most familiar with these staff rooms from her own bitching about accommodations and battle restrictions, they are undeniably creepier at night…

The scent of dust, old paper, and faint perfumes from days gone by.

"Oh, shush. We won't."

He closed the door behind them, turned the lights on. Now analyzing how quickly they can turn this room into a mess.

Books, books, books— paper work, cup of pens, confiscated stuff, framed photos, personal trinkets, a slightly dated computer monitor. Desk drawers…oh desk drawers.

Desk drawers full of shit and fully removable.

“You do have a good track record…”

Took him a second to realize Alison was talking. Too focused on possible plans.