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bedlamsbardI was going to try resisting the urge to write Peter and Edmund snark, but really, why resist?
"No," Peter says with unconcealed boredom, "I have no interest whatsoever in shagging your sister. Even if she didn't have a personality like a minotaur's rear end, and a face to match -- which is quite an accomplishment, I assure you; I've met actual minotaurs with more going for them -- she's not my type, and even if she was, she looks like she'd be a terrible shag."
Dick Woburn's face goes mottled red, and Edmund takes the opportunity to interpose himself between the two of them, shoving Peter backwards as inconspicuously as he can. Three months ago it would have been like shoving at a brick wall; today it doesn't have quite the same effect.
"And with that lovely little rejoinder, we're just going to be going now," he says. "Peter! You're such a jokester."
"Hardly," Peter drawls, because he has the survival instinct of a particularly stupid squirrel. "Have you seen the girl?"
"We're going," Edmund informs Dick, and tows Peter away before Dick can get his senses together enough to try throwing a punch and then get himself beaten to a pulp. Peter really needs to get a hobby besides picking fights and beating people up.
"You know," he says, once they're out of eyeshot and earshot both, in case Dick works up his courage to come after Peter anyway, "contrary to popular opinion, there's a time and a place for sarcasm."
Peter eyes him, shaking Edmund's hand off his arm. "You're one to talk."
"Said the mouse to the dwarf," Edmund says dryly.
"What did I tell you about quoting theatre at me?" Peter says sharply.
Edmund resists the urge to beam with pride out of old habit. "Oh, look, Lu's wrong and you can recognize culture when it's chucked at your head enough times."
"Go to hell," Peter grumbles.
"Be advised; heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself: we may outrun, by violent swiftness, that which we run at --"
"O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!" Peter interrupts, and glares at him. "Sod off, Ed, I can take care of myself."
"Nice way you have of showing it. What were you planning on telling the professor this time?"
There's a long pause while Edmund watches different thoughts chase their way across Peter's face. "He was flirting with Susan?" he ventures eventually.
Edmund snorts. "I'd hate to have to pick up what was left of you after Susan hears that. Admit it, Pete, you can't remember what's a socially acceptable reason to get into a fight in England."
"So what is?"
Edmund eyes him. "I really think you should figure that one out on your own," he decides. "Let's try an experiment where you spend a whole day trying to be a normal human being, all right?"
"Don't patronize me, Ed," Peter snaps. "And what do you plan on doing while I'm engaged in this...experiment?"
"The same thing, only with less chance of snapping and killing someone for pissing me off."
"I've never done that!"
Edmund raises an eyebrow.
"I've never done that if there weren't further extenuating circumstances," Peter elaborates.
Well, that's true enough, Edmund will allow. He claps Peter on the shoulder and says, "Stay away from Millie Woburn."
"I would have anyway," Peter grumbles. "She's more your type than mine."
"That's insulting; I could live with the personality for an hour or so, but you're right about the looks."
"She's female," Peter says, and grins.
"No," Peter says with unconcealed boredom, "I have no interest whatsoever in shagging your sister. Even if she didn't have a personality like a minotaur's rear end, and a face to match -- which is quite an accomplishment, I assure you; I've met actual minotaurs with more going for them -- she's not my type, and even if she was, she looks like she'd be a terrible shag."
Dick Woburn's face goes mottled red, and Edmund takes the opportunity to interpose himself between the two of them, shoving Peter backwards as inconspicuously as he can. Three months ago it would have been like shoving at a brick wall; today it doesn't have quite the same effect.
"And with that lovely little rejoinder, we're just going to be going now," he says. "Peter! You're such a jokester."
"Hardly," Peter drawls, because he has the survival instinct of a particularly stupid squirrel. "Have you seen the girl?"
"We're going," Edmund informs Dick, and tows Peter away before Dick can get his senses together enough to try throwing a punch and then get himself beaten to a pulp. Peter really needs to get a hobby besides picking fights and beating people up.
"You know," he says, once they're out of eyeshot and earshot both, in case Dick works up his courage to come after Peter anyway, "contrary to popular opinion, there's a time and a place for sarcasm."
Peter eyes him, shaking Edmund's hand off his arm. "You're one to talk."
"Said the mouse to the dwarf," Edmund says dryly.
"What did I tell you about quoting theatre at me?" Peter says sharply.
Edmund resists the urge to beam with pride out of old habit. "Oh, look, Lu's wrong and you can recognize culture when it's chucked at your head enough times."
"Go to hell," Peter grumbles.
"Be advised; heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself: we may outrun, by violent swiftness, that which we run at --"
"O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!" Peter interrupts, and glares at him. "Sod off, Ed, I can take care of myself."
"Nice way you have of showing it. What were you planning on telling the professor this time?"
There's a long pause while Edmund watches different thoughts chase their way across Peter's face. "He was flirting with Susan?" he ventures eventually.
Edmund snorts. "I'd hate to have to pick up what was left of you after Susan hears that. Admit it, Pete, you can't remember what's a socially acceptable reason to get into a fight in England."
"So what is?"
Edmund eyes him. "I really think you should figure that one out on your own," he decides. "Let's try an experiment where you spend a whole day trying to be a normal human being, all right?"
"Don't patronize me, Ed," Peter snaps. "And what do you plan on doing while I'm engaged in this...experiment?"
"The same thing, only with less chance of snapping and killing someone for pissing me off."
"I've never done that!"
Edmund raises an eyebrow.
"I've never done that if there weren't further extenuating circumstances," Peter elaborates.
Well, that's true enough, Edmund will allow. He claps Peter on the shoulder and says, "Stay away from Millie Woburn."
"I would have anyway," Peter grumbles. "She's more your type than mine."
"That's insulting; I could live with the personality for an hour or so, but you're right about the looks."
"She's female," Peter says, and grins.