Scott just shrugged when she said she didn't want to try. He wouldn't press the issue. If she didn't want to do something then she didn't have to and she certainly didn't have to take him at his word. He knew what he was in this group... a pariah, an outsider, the runt, the omega. There was nothing he could do to change that-- not even fitting in now would make people forget that he'd always been different.
And that was... okay. They didn't have to like him. He would have liked it if they liked him, sure-- but he had found, much to his own astonishment, that he could go on living without their approval or friendship.
"I just want to figure out the rest of this so--" he started to say when the next rock was thrown. This time, though, Scott was not caught unaware.
The rock he had palmed slid out of his sleeve and into his hand, and he was already taking a step forward and putting an arm out to move Barda behind him as he launched the rock into the air.
It hit the other rock in mid-air and altered its course, both stones falling far too short to be a danger to anyone.
The little bald boy, too short and scrawny to be considered a threat, had dug his heels into the gravel of the courtyard and was eyeing the assembled mob before them. Fighting was not his first choice of past times-- but if a fight was what they wanted, he would give as good as he took.