dieter is a trampasaurus rex (dieter) wrote in enemies_rpg, @ 2013-03-10 00:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1943-03] march, dieter lestrange, reuben longbottom |
WHO: Reuben Longbottom and Dieter Lestrange
WHERE: In the laundry~
WHAT: Seriously no one believes Dieter when he denies things.
WHEN: Saturday afternoon or somethin', after Sebastian's little accident
STATUS/RATING: XXX / Complete
He probably ought to have invited Gilbert along, or written to Araminta, Dieter thought, because whoever had put together these chore assignments had a sick sense of humor. Every bit of work ran the risk of running into Longbottom or one of the Selwyns, and it was almost too much to take. But he didn't feel like having any company, so he stepped into the laundry room and dropped the basket he was carrying with a sigh. He was too irritated by the persistent rumors of his own guilt to really talk to anyone. He slid the basket the rest of the way across the floor and got ready to start his work for the afternoon. He hated laundry. Reuben did not like these chores. That's what mums were for, or eventually, a wife. He knew that he had to do his part, however, to be saved the trouble of ribbing for being a coward of a few unmentionables and smelly socks. So he gathered all his gumption and picked up a few baskets and headed toward the laundry room. He had at least been enjoying his time with Augusta Selwyn, tricky as she was. Well, that was a chicken to chase another day. For now he'd focus on fulfilling his hours and getting some work done. And, he thought as he turned the corner and saw Dieter Lestrange, do a bit of research. He dropped the baskets to the ground, brassieres and trousers falling to the ground around the basket. He gave Dieter a nod. "Lestrange," he said. "Enjoying the panties?" Of all the people on all the days. Dieter wrinkled his nose as he turned to look at Longbottom. He couldn't care less about panties, though he didn't have any in the current pile of clothes he was looking at. So he made a show of rolling his eyes. He knew Longbottom probably suspected him just as much as Dearborn or Selwyn, but between the three of them he'd call Longbottom the daftest, though not by a wide margin. He didn't have to play nice and even if he thought it would work, he just didn't feel like it. "Probably not as much as you are." Reuben laughed. "Not really into soiled things, panties or not," he said. "But you don't mean to say you don't like panties, do you Lestrange? Too common for your lofty tastes?" He wove his wand to start sorting the clothes. Not for the first time, Reuben was thankful that he was so good at Charms. After all, it was something of a blessing when one had to take it upon oneself to sort clothing. Involuntarily, Dieter tensed up. Something about this line of inquiry (if one could call it that) was making him uncomfortable. Probably the panties part. Instead of showing it, he just smirked. "There's an original way to insult me, telling me I have good taste..." he joked, not even feeling the urge to do a single bit of laundry. He waved his wand at it and the pile rose in the air and dropped back into the basket. "I figured you Gryffindors were fond of dirty things, so you should just admit you're having so much fun." Yeah, he was doing research. And yeah, he thought Lestrange was a smelly pile of shite for the most part, but Reuben was hard to ruffle. He just grinned at the other lad and wove his wand again so that the dirty things went into the water. "It's not so much that we're fond of dirty things," he said. "More that we like to make things dirty. Or bruised." Well he knew all about getting bruised and dirty and the Gryffindors who loved it, but Dieter bit his tongue. "Well that much has always been painfully obvious." He rolled his eyes, but he tried to pay close attention to Longbottom. He felt like he was getting somewhere with this. "Is there something you need from me?" "Painful, yeah, I bet that's the truth," Reuben said with a bit of a laugh, well remembering how easily he had punched the other student. "As it is, I do not have anything I needed from you. Except, hang on..." He had a feeling this would rile up the 6th year and there was something fantastic about being able to do so. "So, where were you when you missed dinner?" There it was. Dieter turned to face him, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "I was lurking in wait to attack Montgomery, of course," he snapped sarcastically. He didn't expect any excuse he could give would satisfy Reuben even though he was mostly telling the truth. Of course admitting he'd scrambled his own brain was the last thing he'd do. "I got distracted working on an essay for Defence. Why do you care?" Reuben fought the urge to grin. Oh, this was much more fun than laundry, which was currently slopping itself in the big vats. Instead of grinning, Reuben wore a look of innocence in the face of Dieter's sarcasm. "I just care because somebody sent one of my best mates into the hospital wing. I think you'd understand that I'd care about that. How would you feel if the same happened to Travers? Or... Algie?" Snapping under pressure wasn't something he did. Right, Lockhart was in the hospital and of course they were friends they were both big loud idiots. But Dieter's brain had gone into panic mode and he just stared at Reuben like he was some kind of foreign plant. "Why in the hell would I care if something happened to Selwyn?" The lie came out coherently but, at least to his ears, sounded more accusatory than perplexed. "Dunno," Reuben said. He pursed his lips and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Maybe 'cause your something of obsessed with him." He stepped a little closer to the boy, able to tell that he was causing some at least mild discomfort. "Or are you going to deny that again?" What he thought was going to be an interrogation about the Muggleborn attacks -- which he could get out of without flinching -- had turned into an interrogation about Algie Selwyn. How did all roads lead back to that? He broke eye contact with Reuben, staring at the floor. "I've not spoken to Selwyn since the last time he punched me, I'm not sure where you're getting this 'obsession' from." "Yeah?" Reuben said. Even someone who was thick about people--which Reuben wasn't--knew that there was something going on. Obviously the boy was still obsessed with Algie. "So look at me," he said. "Look at me and tell me you aren't obsessed with Algie Selwyn." Finally he had a handle on his own panic. Unless Longbottom already knew everything and was just toying with him -- he doubted it -- he could lie through this. Not that it was wholly a lie, he wasn't obsessed with Selwyn. But it was complicated beyond that. So Dieter looked back up and said "I'm not obsessed with your mate, I'm sure he'll be disappointed," with the cheekiest smirk he could manage. "Yeah," Reuben said. "He'll be so cut up about it I'll have to bring him to Robins." He scoffed and shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "He's just thrilled to have a little buddy following him around." He glanced at the laundry that was still going. "Well, I can leave this here for a bit and go off. You have fun." He lifted up a sopping sock and set it flying right into Dieter's face and gave a whistle as he walked out the door. Dieter swore at the sock, waving his wand and sending it flying with a wet squish against the far wall. He almost wished he had told him the truth. That would have shown him. Grumbling about missed opportunities, he just decided to go to work. "Fucking Longbottom," he said with a sigh. |