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Date: January 16th, 2013
Today's Forecast: The air is reminiscent of spring. The snow, turning slowly into a fine carpet of slush, is slowly disappearing after a decidedly warm spell.
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It is now: Year 7 - Day 4 - Supper/Quidditch Practice

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Morning Run; Day 4, Y7, Early Morning
Topic Started: Jan 12 2013, 11:04:01 PM (629 Views)
Professor Halcyon Hicks
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Transfiguration Professor

Professor Hicks wasn't entirely sure what had possessed her to wake up at the crack of dawn to... run. There had to be more reasonable times to purposefully torture one's own body. Lee had agreed to this a while back and for one reason or another she hadn't found the time to join him until today. It was hard for her to get up in the mornings, even for Breakfast at times, and saving marking til last minute kept her up late into the evenings. At breakfast, yesterday, the topic had been brought up again and here she was. They were meeting near the lake, or something to that extent. A long yawn escaped her then, her breath tainting the transparency of the air for a few moments before dissipating. It was chillier than she would have liked, but there wasn't much point backing out now.

To be fair, her motivation for physical activity was next to nothing. She'd almost come to terms with the real reason she was out here today. Perhaps the actual reason she'd taken so long coming out here was to fight the urge to spend more time with him? And a ridiculous urge it was. Nothing, really, had changed between them since Christmas. (And she'd been arguing back and forth with herself about her choice not to go back to him almost since she'd left his arms.) It was the same old, same old and she wondered if it was stupid of her to feel all the more frustrated because of it? They'd been able to keep out of trouble since that night, no prank mistletoe, no falling into each other's arms and frankly she wondered if maybe a run would do her some good. Work out some of the tension, you know.

It had been a problem finding something suitable to run in. Most of her clothing was of a professional nature and she'd be damned if there was enough flexibility in that material for any sort of arduous movement. To say she was a tad out of her element, as she walked across the grounds towards the lake, was an understatement. Dark pants, tee shirt and runners... Halcyon couldn't remember the last time she'd worn runners. Her heels felt odd unelevated and her balance slightly off because of it. (She'd spent a good few minutes bouncing up and down on her toes, hoping to make it feel more natural...) She took a moment to zip her sweater up the slightest bit further, it was too cold without one. Probably not for long... Lee was about as far away from being in shape as one could get. Approaching the meeting spot, she couldn't help but wonder if it was too late to turn back around and crawl into bed; save herself multiple levels of embarrassment.
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Brock Baker
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The Christmas break had done little for Brock's sanity, but at least he'd always managed to find something to keep himself occupied. Even letting off some of that steam, but it took barely a couple of hours in Scare's presence to have it build up with renewed vigour. And he didn't have nearly enough time, or Muggle cash, to make it into a regular treatment of his inexplicable condition. No, his best bet was to attempt ignoring any urges she draw forth and hope that one day it would start paying off. That still didn't stop him from sticking to the old habits and bugging her inappropriately at meals. Because that, as had been established previously, would have been far too much for him to give up.

It had long since been Brock's second nature to wake up early in the morning, even without any alarms, but, suspecting Hiccups would have refused his last dare to join him were she to know the actual time of his daily workout, he decided to make that number just a little less unappealing to her. By the time he noticed her descent towards the lake, Brock had already rounded the edge of the forest and would have been halfway through his usual run. Slowing down as he drew nearer, he fell into step beside her. "Well fuck me running," he greeted with a chuckle as he regarded his new jogging partner from head to toe, his voice evidently surprised by her mere presence. The Auror donned his common sports attire of black track pants, white vest and worn out trainers he hadn't found time to replace. But during the winter weeks, he covered up the sleeveless top with a brown hooded gilet. His bared arms were unmindful of the nippy temperatures with only a few strips of a black wand holster attached to his left forearm. Seeing Scare in a decidedly not formal attire for once made him regret, just a little, that it wasn't a couple of degrees warmer for her to forget the sweater.

Even his walking pace was intentionally quicker since Brock doubted Scare had done any warming up herself. "You seen Boobfakes' column yet?" the man asked as he walked on, expecting her to catch up. Doubting she'd gotten up earlier just to read the Prophet, he gladly indulged his colleague. "Never knew such a tribute to Arithmancy before..." Brock chose to glance down at the now even smaller woman, amusement gleaming in his eyes, "but there was no mention of my therapist's nimble fingers." Quite shockingly, there truly was not a word about their escapades, and although he never had any fondness for the bleak professor, Baker could appreciate Blackwood's most likely unwilling assistance in keeping his and Scare's name unblemished - this far. Truth be told, he wasn't sure whether he even wanted to know what went on that night in the dungeons.

When they finally reached the lake, Brock suddenly blocked Scare's way, looking at her expectantly. "Your leg," he instructed simply, holding a hand palm up low at his side. While trying to seem mostly impassive, his unflinching gaze challenged her to disobey him. "Unless you want me to sit on my fetching arse and wait for you to stretch?" Was that even a threat? Brock couldn't quite decide which would be more entertaining for him, but he wasn't about to let the flabby, not that he really minded in certain aspects, woman pull a muscle only to keep complaining about it all the way back.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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"I wasn't aware you had so much stamina." The woman remarked, both eyebrows raising as he fell into step with her and then proceeded to speed her pace up. Her legs groaned at the thought of hurrying her pace. Lee wasn't a slow walker to start with, she needed to walk briskly, half the time, to make up for tardiness. This was a bad idea. She was, of course, referring to the perceived difficulty of his suggestion. The corner of her lips curled slightly, but most of her was trying to determine how the hell he had so much damn energy despite having, obviously, woken up earlier than her. It was slightly agitating that he should be so normal whilst she felt much like a zombie who'd maybe had half a leg blown off. There was nothing she could say in regards to his shock. Not a thing. Though an apology was what first came to mind. Certainly she'd be mucking with some sort of routine, in coming here. Well, he'd invited her... And just looking at him made her want to shiver. Sympathy chills. How could he stand having his arms out in the cold like that?

Another yawn, one she didn't bother stifling, as the man mentioned something about a column. She might have shook her head, no, in response. A hand rose cautiously to wipe away the moisture at her eyes. Normally such an action would be obstructed by her thick lenses but ever since Christmas she'd been unable to locate them. (Not even with magic.) Halle disliked contact lenses with a passion. They were small, irritating and you couldn't just leave them in when you went to bed. They added a good ten minutes a day to her "getting ready" that would be much better spent elsewhere. (Plus glasses at least partially obstructed her face, to be honest, she felt exposed without them.) As much as she suspected Brock to be partially responsible for this, there wasn't any good way of accusing him or getting her glasses from him. Halcyon would have to wait until she had some free time to get a new pair. Taking a moment to look up at the man, who admittedly had too much energy, she took a few moments to understand the jumble of words coming from his lips before smiling. It had always been hard to imagine the Arithmancy professor as anything but platonic, it seemed more likely he'd put her under one of the unforgivables than anything else. "It might be a bit much to get it framed for him..." Septimus didn't seem to like her much to start with. Somehow she doubted such a gift would help matters all that much. Halcyon couldn't say she was disappointed about how things had turned out. She could do without a column like that, about her, in the papers. "A shame, I could use a broader client base." Teasing, as though he wasn't quite enough for her. Obviously there was less gusto behind her words than perhaps would have been found had they had this conversation at breakfast.

"O-Oh-" A lame sort of exclamation tumbled from her lips at the man who was suddenly blocking her path. It was by some blind stroke of luck she didn't bumble into the auror. Then her eyebrows knit together in consternation as he demanded her leg, mostly because he was being terribly overzealous over such an unimportant limb, before relaxing at his explanation. Stretching. Was that necessary? The walk here had been brisk enough and she rather imagined she'd fall over if she was only balancing on one leg... It would have been incredibly easy to suggest he go on without her and she bit the words back. "If you get really bored you could walk in circles." This came out sounding really dry, suggesting pigs might fly before she willingly gave up her leg to him in such a manner. (Though she couldn't imagine he'd be incredibly bored if she were to start stretching. Perhaps less so if she was without her sweater...) Of course, with a little prying she might acquiesce to his request. But, at the moment, stalling seemed like a good, if half formulated, enough idea.
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Brock Baker
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Brock barked out a laugh at her retort, briefly wondering why he hadn't dragged her out of bed for his runs in past. Well, admittedly, the first time he'd brought this up, it had been partly his fault nothing had ever come out of that plan. And despite doubting Scare would be willing to repeat the experience after her legs will have burned for most of the day, he was at least going to make the most of this opportunity. "I'll be more than willing to show you on the way back," Brock turned to the woman with an amused wink. What an intriguing thought... But no, he'd need to leave that experiment for some future time. It was fairly obvious that Scare wasn't fully awake at the time, and the Auror instead contemplated helpfully shoving her into the lake. But he didn't want to risk her growing angry enough with him to put an immediate end to this experience. Perhaps towards the end of their jog, depending on the outcome.

It had been the next morning, after his quality man-to-rat time at Christmas, when he'd found Scare's glasses in the corridor. His first intention had been to exchange them for some sort of ransom upon her return, but by the last day of her holidays, Brock had decided against that idea. Not because he couldn't find a suitable payoff for the spectacles, but... He was doing her a favour of making her look less stupid. That's right. Nothing to do with her... eyes, whatsoever. But why she'd insisted on hiding her most interesting features was beyond his understanding. Next on the list would be her top, though Brock would still need to decide whether sabotaging her wardrobe wouldn't have brought about a little side effect of other men noticing her assets as well. Punching a subordinate had been quite enough in his opinion, and he wasn't known to share. Apparently, it had been some time ago when his subconscious mind decided that if he wasn't allowed to have her, nobody else would. Obviously, if there ever was someone good enough for her, he'd need to force himself to step down anyway. Because, well, it wouldn't have been right not to. Luckily, though, there were no wooers in sight; and what a ridiculous concept that was. His smile was slightly distracted at Scare's suggestion, but he swiftly willed it away. "Why... are you proposing to conspire in realization of a practical joke against a colleague, Professor?" Brock noted with shock seeping through his every word, for which his brain had suffered a work out of its own, before adding readily, "I'm game, babe." Although the man suspected she would chicken out in the end, surely, nobody could blame him for trying. He doubted Blackwood would be fazed in any way by finding the article displayed on Great Hall's doors, but it was the process that appealed to Brock the most, were he to undertake it with his reluctant partner in crime. Scare's latter comeback propelled a snort from his nose. "Don't think your clients would stay all that loyal if you cheated them out of their backrubs," he pointed out matter-of-factly, sending her a mock affronted glance. Better not to look at her face for too long now, if only to avoid any suspicion behind the spectacular disappearance.

It had been essential for Brock to fight off his urge to smile at the surprised exclamation, and not solely because he found it entertaining. However, he was clearly not diverted by Scare's recommendation as one of his brows climbed up his forehead. There was no going anywhere without her acquiescing to his terms and Brock wasn't commonly inclined to humour anyone questioning his lead. Even most of his men had learned not to mess with a stubborn Baker, as it wouldn't get them anywhere nice. Finally, the MLE Head rolled his eyes snappily and stepped closer, anchoring a hand at her waist whilst the other perfunctorily sailed down the back of her thigh to the knee, tugging it up with ease as he straightened back up. A smirk crossed his lips as he gave her barely a moment to catch her bearings. "Tell me when it hurts," Brock directed as he slowly brought her knee towards her chest, blue eyes fixated on her hazel pair. The outer professionalism was merely a cover he'd recently intended to employ for any such close-proximity situations to ever take place again. Although he had no illusions of her inability to find a way through, were she daring enough, he could at least congratulate himself on hiding the weakness she had managed to reveal in a number of past scenarios. Not that it wasn't true he wanted to get on with their stretching to have enough time for the actual exercise. Hopefully, that was all that lay apparent to the woman.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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A bemused sort of noise escaped her at his suggestion. An eyebrow twitched upwards as she debated Brock's proposal. Even if he had the stamina to follow up with that she doubted she'd feel up to it. Not that she had any reason to believe he'd hold true to what was said... regardless of how energetic they both were feeling. "Oh, sweetie, you sure know how to motivate a girl." Because if anything was going to get her through this morning it was the thought of him as a reward. Where was her brain going? Right, OK. Perhaps his arms were a little more distracting than she'd previously admitted; it wasn't very often she got to see him so under dressed. (Admittedly, the first time it had happened she'd been a lot worse off. Had their relationship been more confusing back then? Hmm.) That was the only plausible explanation for the way she was turning the conversation. Not at all as though there was a reasonable explanation, like she just didn't care anymore. Brock would undoubtedly lead the conversation there anyway, why should she be the only one restrained by propriety?

"Mmm." A complacent sound escaped before the full meaning of his words registered. Then, her look turned more horrified. "I," She hadn't really been suggesting they play a practical joke on the man- "I haven't even read the article," Was the only immediate defense she could muster. Somewhere in the tangle of thoughts there was reasoning behind it. Mainly, having not read the contents of the article, it was impossible to determine whether or not it would be suitable prank material. Her thought had merely been a passing one. Halle hadn't been expecting a laugh, much less a partner in crime, "You're what?" Had she just unwittingly agreed to play a prank on a coworker? (Was he just overly zealous or was she having a harder time keeping up? No way to tell.) Halcyon had been on the butt end of a lot of practical jokes and as such she'd never been particularly interested in being the one behind the, generally embarrassing, joke. Right, her hesitancy had nothing at all to do with her fear of the arithmancy professor. (Or the pure hatred that sometimes seemed to emanate from his eyes...) Speaking of eyes, Brock's had been abnormally chaste since Christmas. There were times when he'd blatantly lower his gaze, to get a rise out of her, but for the most part they were having face to face conversations. Which was something, she was sure, she'd never get used to. With him anyway. It was too weird trying to think of him as someone who paid attention to social restrictions.

To be fair he'd never directly asked her for a back rub... and they'd been a little preoccupied that night with, uhm, other things. The woman resisted the urge to respond as she had, initially, when the topic of massages had been brought up. Halle was causing enough trouble for herself without actually reaching out to touch him. The last thing her hormones needed was another jump start right now. It appeared her inhibitions were a lot less guarded when she was overly tired. Here's to hoping that wasn't blatantly obvious, "I could make it up to you tonight." Lee suggested simply, the words leaving her lips before she realized the implication. The professor didn't even have the presence of mind to look shocked. She did, however, laugh quietly at the implication. Before catching herself laughing at herself and trying to stifle the amusement. This was before caffeine. Just a full day of classes to go, no big deal. Keep it together.

Noticing the fact that he'd moved in closer, despite the fact she'd rejected his offer of help, she moved to step back. Brock's hand snagged her waist before she had the opportunity to get away from him and her cheeks flushed visibly as his hand trailed down her leg. What sort of a person just went after everything they wanted? On a more amusing note, how strung out was he that he needed to reach out in such a manner? "Dear fuck..." The protest, hardly as agitated as it could have been, snapped out of her as she tried to find a way to balance on one leg. (Passing off embarrassment for agitation hardly ever worked in her favour.) One of her hands reached out to his shoulder, so she could steady herself, "Is this as good for you as it is for me?" The Professor remarked, wincing slightly as the muscles in her leg were loosened. She was already blushing, why not take it the extra step and tease him a little? "Ow." Just in case he'd missed her wince. "Easy... It's my first time." It was going to be one of those days, apparently. Perhaps her mind was going to be perpetually in the gutter from now on. A loose, incredibly amused, smile fit across her lips for a few moments. She managed not to laugh, somehow. Her leg was returned to her and she allowed him the other one, though, she couldn't bring herself to be properly mad about the way he'd breached her personal space. Which was a bad sign. Long gone were the days when there'd been any sort of repercussion for Brock's behaviour. Perhaps she shouldn't be so complacent towards him. What did that say about her, as a person?
Edited by Professor Halcyon Hicks, Jan 15 2013, 10:24:14 PM.
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Brock Baker
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Strangely, Brock couldn't tell for sure whether she was being sarcastic or not. Though, Scare at least didn't look drowsy enough to take him this seriously. Under different circumstances... but there was no point in letting his thoughts stray into that direction, were it at all avoidable. Cynical approach it was, then. "Gotta be the years of experience talking," he shot a smirk in her direction, while subtly watching for a reaction. It had been mostly the issue of his noncommittal nature that kept him at bay nowadays, and Brock merely tried to pick up on any signs of uneasiness if ever the topic was grazed. He found himself ambivalent between wanting to find a trace of acceptance, and at the same time, through a much smaller part of his brain called conscience, hoped he hadn't altered her temper in such a way. Could it have been respect he felt for her? Because there was only a handful of people who had earned such a regard from him. In fact, most of them didn't even know it. Damn, was she getting under his skin or what? Probably had resided there for some time by the look of things. Shaking his head curtly, the Auror looked ahead. "What a bummer it doesn't work so well on recruits," he shrugged with a minute twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Well, he'd definitely need to abuse her morning lack of cognition to his devices more often. It appeared she was paying more attention to his arms than the words passing his lips. Perhaps surprising her with an inventive wake-up call would have proved as an excellent source of entertainment. But being in her bedroom? Not such a good idea. He hadn't even dared to enter her office, which on itself reflected on his caution. It was bad enough he had seen its layout from the corridor and still experienced an occasional vivid snippet involving her desk. Surely, the contents of his thoughts must have been breaking some kind of record. "So?" Brock retorted disinterestedly to her objection. A lone eyebrow arched at the woman's exclamation. "If there's anything specific you'd like that to mean," he responded in a blend of implicative levity, only to lower his voice towards the former, "I'm sure we could come to some arrangement, honey." An efficient diverting tactic as any. If she forgot about pranking the DADA Professor, he could always remind her later as though she'd truly agreed to the scheme.

The astounded look Brock awarded her was mostly due to the way her proposal was delivered rather than its nature itself. It had sounded almost genuine. The revelation was swept away with Scare's laugh and he found himself smiling as well. Brock hummed deep within his throat before contemplatively saying, "Could you?" The shred of anticipation in his voice was replaced by a playful accusation. "Or are you just trying to flirt yourself out of your Quidditch crash course?" Was it fortunate that he found an excuse not to accept her offer? As his pride would have no doubt prevented the man from bowing out.

The deep-rooted satisfaction Brock felt from the proofs of his impact in her cheeks and vocabulary had to be quelled down in order to hide hers. But had she still managed to read his mind? "I've had better," a touch of a grin betrayed his words, as well as the arising keenness in his eyes. No, he had never actually found stretching this diverting before. His lips parted in a concoction of incredulity and wonderment as something stirred further south. Was Scare hinting to tell him what he'd often, out of pure curiosity, tried to glean from her in past, or was the whole purpose of her revelation to taunt him? Probably, the bloody witch knew full well he was taking her words apart and wondered if they rang true in other conditions as well. "Well, then I'll just have to be really gentle, won't I?" left his throat in a scratchy string of words, just above a whisper. As he extended her leg forward, his hands kept true to his vow, both of them now that she was able to steady herself against him, trailing meticulously along her muscles to support the limb. Much to his credit, Brock was only taking the amount of time necessary for the muscles to give in, before once again bending and turning her leg to the side, which had to be his favourite part. The man might not have had any control over what was revealed though his eyes, but he somehow managed to keep his act methodical. Never reaching anywhere his touch wasn't needed, but taking a decidedly uncharacteristic care where he did. For Scare's freely given other leg, he guided her hand to loop around his neck as he stood to its outer side and the process was repeated, before moving behind her and accidentally brushing against her back while securing her in place with his free hand. Crap, and he had been doing so great. Ah, well. "Hope this is not an... unpleasant experience for you," he drawled close to her ear, the amusement still palpable in the husky tones.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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Lee snickered, it seemed a slapstick reaction whenever he mentioned his supposed experience. The Professor certainly had no reason to doubt his claims, the complete opposite really, perhaps her disdainful approach to the matter was one of the ways she kept sane. Like if she admitted to thinking she was missing out on anything it'd be harder to deal with. With a quizzical eye, she studied the man, as though trying to determine something meaningful. Why she felt the need to guard her thoughts so precisely? Was she protecting herself, still? Perhaps some habits were harder to break than she'd like to imagine. Though her motives had changed, obviously. Before, it had felt more like self preservation. Now, it was dealing with the thought that telling him the truth might permanently scare him away. Some things, perhaps, were better left unspoken. If not better, easier. "Whatever is the world coming to?" Halle remarked, as though astonished that anyone would refuse such an offer; her very tone suggesting that the requirements to become an auror, even in recruit form, had drastically lowered because of this. There, her sarcasm was working a little better now.

Arrangement? Where the devil had this conversation gone wrong? Halcyon wasn't even particularly sure what he was on about anymore. She felt, somehow, that if she took his bait she'd have lost some sort of battle. It calmed her, slightly, to recall that there was no real way to win with Brock. "What the hell," This was said with a mixture of incredulousness and apathy. (A very hard concoction to exact properly.) Because, once having reached the conclusion that what she said didn't matter, all that was left was to say something. There were a few good measures of facetiousness, for sure. "And," As it wouldn't have been a very good point had she left it off as she had, "You can stick your arrangement up your arse." If he could respond in a way that defined all plausible logic, who was she to argue? Both of her eyebrows rose in delicatation. This was a lot easier to do on next to no sleep. It didn't matter how much he lowered his voice seductively. A comment she thankfully kept to herself. Lee was a bit disappointed she couldn't come up with a more imaginative place for him to stick something, but she was running at half mast.

That look was probably warranted. Was it? Lee was too busy controlling her chortles to defend her honour. A task made nigh impossible when he propounded the thought that she was flirting. "Is it working?" Lee queried in return, as though it had always been her intent to dodge out of the Quidditch thing which, in truth, she'd forgotten about completely. How many things had she agreed to? And how did he remember them all? That was a better question, perhaps. It seemed more likely that he cleverly crafted these suggestions on the spot and somehow maneuvered her in such a way that it was hard to refuse... After all, she was far too nice to down right admit she didn't remember if the topic had been brought up previously. Had she remembered that was today she probably would have opted out of running. This thought must have been superlatively apparent in her facial expression, which suggested she might have just been given the death sentence.

Hmm, had he? Her thoughts strayed down a path she didn't often let them and it took her a few seconds too long to pull them back where they belonged. Odd, how such an innocent question could be misconstrued. Right. One might wonder how the man wasn't put into overload, what with all the implications she was unleashing upon him. Not that she was any better off. As always, he seemed to dish back in equal, if not greater, portions. Nor did it seem she was as immune to his tactics as she had been previous, perhaps due to the increased blood flow. One mention of the word gentle and the ministrations of his fingers took on an entirely different meaning. Funny how quickly ones perception of a situation could change. The way his eyes wandered helped her little. "Take good care of me..." The woman implored, just barely catching hold on an interesting noise as he continued the stretching from behind her. A small shiver shot down her spine at the verbal confirmation of his position in regards to her own. Of course, she wasn't about to let him get the better of her. Lee's head rolled back, resting against his chest; angled in such a way that she could eyeball the man, her voice implicatively quiet, "This feels a tad inappropriate," A low laugh, suggesting she didn't much care and her eyes lazily fluttered shut. The hand that had been moved around his neck relaxed and sunk a little lower, her fingertips innocently brushing along his jaw before lowering completely. It felt as though she could fall asleep in this position. Wasn't that a scary thought? Even putting aside the fact that she was supposed to be stretching... Another wince to suggest that leg had had just about enough of his abuse. "Anything else you'll be grabbing, while you're at it?" Halle's curiosity was evident, he certainly was in a good position for it. Her eyes opened belatedly, a small smile upon her lips. Though there was a small implication behind what was said; bordering consent if not encouragement. Now might be a good time to stop relying on his body for support, as much as she regretted admitting it, if she were to remain here much longer he'd probably step away and she'd probably wind up on her arse.
Edited by Professor Halcyon Hicks, Jan 18 2013, 03:30:28 AM.
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Brock Baker
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Auror | DADA Teacher | Head of MLE

The sound was enough of a confirmation that nothing was, indeed, out of the ordinary between them. Even though ordinary wasn't exactly a term he would have used a few months back. Scare's peculiar evaluation was answered with a tilt of a head and an inquisitive glance of his own as Brock considered what it was she seemingly wanted to share. But her response arrived before he had the chance to make an attempt at extracting the information. The man nodded solemnly in accordance with her consternation over the current state of affairs. "Next thing we know, Scarecrow will pin the MLE head against a nearest three to have her way with him, can you imagine?" Brock's tone was a tad short of horrified as his brain made a swift derivation. It wasn't at all an advice on what she should be doing. At least not an intentional one. But he couldn't exactly reveal that the origin of such thought had been nagging at the back of his skull literally since his waking moments that morning. And the worst part was that he wanted to tell her every vivid detail of the dreams she so brazenly invaded. Alright, second worst.

Confusing the Ravenclaw, no matter the hour, was always a gratifying practice. Brock had to struggle just a little to keep a lid on his laughter, as he could almost picture the chaotic spin of the wheels inside her brain. His amusement, although still very much present, was thinned down to a manageable level when he immediately begun to counter her dismissal. "Think I'll pass." The mischievous flicker in his eyes wasn't a timely enough warning before the strike of his next words, "Unless you do the honours." It was only later that the implication reached his awareness. And while it might not have come off as smoothly as his brain had possibly intended, he could roll with it anyway. Although a worthy opponent, Brock wouldn't accept that Scare could win a clash of a similar kind unless he let her. In fact, he was certain he could make her admit or agree to basically anything that came to mind had he only allowed himself to use the necessary means. It escaped his consideration entirely whether she was gifted with the same potential.

Brock shook his head at the unladylike noises his colleague was demonstrating, but that did little to dampen his grin. Were one of his younger subordinates to pass them, he would have probably paused to take his bosses temperature and check for signs of dark magic to explain the phenomena not many mortals got to see; not in a genuine manner anyway. Fortunately, the couple of guards on the grounds kept their distance and knew not to ask question by then, even though that never stopped them from trying to keep track of their bet's development. "You'd need to try harder than that to get out of this one," he informed with badly crafted genuineness. A snort at the defeated sort of look at the prospect of having to do some other activity later on, Brock granted the woman a hefty pat on the back, letting the hand linger just a moment too long. "But you know what they say about flying being the next best thing to a good shag," he offered enticingly as a corner of his lips tugged unevenly higher, "You might find it educational." Appealing to her Ravenclaw nature, how devious.

There was a strange but brief sort of desire to do just that; in any way imaginable. But rather than attempting to pinpoint such a drive, Brock gladly let himself to be distracted by her tremor grazing across his chest. It was almost a bit too overwhelming, being able to run his hands over her body and feel it melt into his. He couldn't help but press just a little closer as she did the same. A low chuckle climbed lazily past his lips at Scare's admission, and he rested his cheek against the side of her head as he spoke, "All comes down to how you feel about inappropriate." As if to stress his point, a thumb initiated a soothing motion against her tight, impelled by her own venturing fingers. Brock forbade himself to feel anything remotely similar to deprivation after their departure, but eased up the pressure of his hand. A smirk found its way back onto his mouth at the woman's inquiry. Meeting her gaze only made the prospect all the more appealing, and he needed to lower his head further down to escape those eyes. Unanimously, his hands set into motion. The left scaled up her side, the touch resolute but easy as it reached the underside of her arm, just barely brushing against the first point of destination. His other hand slowly lowered her leg as it moved towards its inner side, the fingers spread wide to cover as much area as was possible to reach. "I can let you decide," Brock whispered as his lips brushed innocently against the shell of her ear, "just how intensive the exercise will be..." Completely out of its volition, his nose snuggled behind that ear before he could even begin to prevent it. But, grasping on his wavering control, the Auror marched on. "After the run," he finished with an attempt to sound motivational as his voice returned to its normal, albeit still throaty, levels. "C'mon, chubby jacksy," he suddenly announced dynamically as he took a step back, the palm of his hand connecting with the mentioned body part with a distinct smack. Brock didn't feel like sticking around for the repercussions, and briskly jogged past her only to turn a couple of steps later to taunt her with his triumphant smirk as he continued rearwards.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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That was where the seriousness of the situation, which had never fully been there for her, fled. A light laugh followed closely behind his response. There wasn't any one particular reason she thought it so amusing. A mixture of three things, mainly. The thought that, while one might assume otherwise, it certainly wasn't so easy as shoving the man up against anything along with what would happen were she to try and then, belatedly, that his comment was a little more clever than the normal shit that spewed from his gob. Was it intentional? Surely he didn't put so much thought behind his actions. Or did he? It was impossible to get over the feeling of being maneuvered, like a puppet with strings, even now. The last of course being that she'd much prefer his suggestion to what they were out here to do. It didn't take long at all to wonder as to the stem of such a thought, "I can," The Professor insinuated, without missing a beat in spite of the swirling thought processes, a tiny wink to suggest just how much thought she'd given to the matter. "Though the question would serve its purpose better directed towards you." An amused expression followed, wondering how open he'd be to expressing how much thought he'd given the matter.

Well, that would certainly count as a surprise towards the Arithmancy Professor. The Ravenclaw Head of House captured her lower lip with her teeth to stymie her amusement. No good. The upper lips pressed hard against the lower as she redoubled her efforts against the ridiculous imagery. "I think I've had enough of your hairy arse to last a lifetime." Lee noted, with a small quirk of her brow, clearly referencing what had happened between them in the Forbidden Forest. God, but they'd had a lot happen to them in the course of a few months. The woman had never stopped to look at just how much she had changed. She'd been forcing herself to live from moment to moment, when before she'd been so prone to dwell in the past... Even now, just thinking on all that had happened between them, she couldn't stop an interesting sort of look as she regarded the man. Halle was never the sort to hold a grudge, but to have her opinion changed so utterly in regards to a person; it was unprecedented. None of this changed the fact that he was going to force her to run, however.

Was she uninhibited enough to remark upon that grin of his? The Professor was certain very few people had witnessed it and it was even stranger to think that he seemed prone, at least recently, to bestow them upon her. Halle decided not to wonder at the anomaly and to simply continue on much as she always did around the man. Lest she consider it too much and risk losing it altogether. Was it terrible of her to consider to what extent she may have to go to get out of this? Nothing came to mind. Brock's attempt to bolster her spirits, if not entirely along the right line, worked in part. (Perhaps because of the way his hand lingered upon her, though at the initial pat she felt as though she might get knocked over.) It was devious of him, consent would have her admitted to needing the education, would it not? "You say it as though you think I've never been on a broom before." Oh dear, how to sort out that innuendo? A clever little smirk, clearly her brain was having a good go of waking up. To say she was completely inexperienced would be wrong, of course but there was no way he was getting a straight answer in regards to either matter.

Contentment. What a stupid feeling. (How was it possible to feel otherwise with how easily they seemed to relax into each other?) Brock was incredibly sturdy, and while it would have been impossible not to notice the woman found herself intentionally marveling at it. Better now, when he couldn't see her directly. Above all things, at least he was consistent. But what once might have come off as stubborn pigheadedness was now looked upon in a more forgiving light. Even favourable. Nothing about him seemed to waver. It had an unmistakable calming effect even when everything else seemed utterly crazy. Lee wondered if he could feel the way he made her heart race, an interesting jump start to the tight constraints he'd had it leashed down to earlier. That, certainly, would be answer enough. It was, just barely, she caught the words she was so close to uttering. Really, what it came down to, was how he made her feel about being inappropriate. It was lucky her incessant need to correct him could be averted, what sort of state would he be in if she openly encouraged him in such a way? Did verbal acknowledgement really hold that much pull on the pair, however? They seemed to do quite well with little to no meaningful conversation. Well enough, anyway. Something stirred within her at the movement of her hands. A, not entirely unfamiliar, fluctuation of heat. It was getting harder to remind herself not to get too cozy; to wonder if the way he snuggled into her was a calculated way of making her feel like a mess? All she wanted was to give in to the intoxicating press of his fingers, now diverting her almost entirely from her previous focus. A low groan as he pulled away from her with a staggering abruptness. Leaving her alone to the interesting stew of emotions he'd managed to stir up. Lee had seen it coming, of course, by now it would take him remaining in such a situation to shock her. There wasn't, as normal, time to respond to the roller coaster they constantly seemed to be riding. It was as though they'd reached the peak of an incline and with a great swoosh her attention was elsewhere. "Damnit Baker." The cuss had escaped even as she turned to unleash divine retribution. It was far too easy to give into the pained shock of his smack rather than deal with the alternative and thus she started after him, knowing there was no chance she could ever catch up.

This became increasingly apparent as time wore on. No amount of prodding, or jokes at her expense, could force her body into having any sort of stamina. It was through sheer willpower that her legs continued, one in front of the other. Nor did she find it within herself to complain, breath, when she had it, was used to deflect his onslaught. Hers was not much of a defense as she was both slowing him down and forcing him to walk at times. Her sweater had been removed and tied around her waist, when her body heat had become too insufferable with it on. It had almost nothing to do with what had happened between them earlier and for her part she did an admirable jog of ignoring any such comments, or looks, in regards to the matter. They had to be half way across the lake when she forced herself to a complete stop, not trusting her legs to take her one step further without giving in. The Professor was entirely unsure how much time had passed. Lee didn't bother calling out to the man to stop, perhaps because she felt bad for slowing him down so severely... But mostly because she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with anymore jabs towards her physical state. The Professor was doing better than she had expected she might. She had lost weight since coming to Hogwarts and had, admittedly, been doing quite a lot of scurrying about. Halle bent over and took the time to control her breathing. Man, but she felt like hell. But, a tribute to their previous exertions, her muscles were anything but tense. An optimist outlook was the only was she was going to get through this. Already her mind was devising a way she could get back to the castle without using her legs.
Edited by Professor Halcyon Hicks, Jan 22 2013, 11:19:25 PM.
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Brock Baker
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An encouraging eyebrow elevated up Brock's forehead in hopes Scare would elaborate on her answer, because she must have given it a lot more consideration if the bloody wink was anything to go by. But instead, the woman chose to spring the question back at him and his shoulders sagged visibly. Dubiously, he shook his head before sending her a pointed, though not humourless, glare, "Do you really doubt my imagination?" Brock had a pretty good idea of what she was after, that she was likely on her way to inquire about the origin of such a thought, but sometimes it was better to play the oblivious card. Whether to piss people off or avoid certain questions. It felt mildly satisfying not to be the only one with that image inscribed into his brain anymore, probably the most he could gain from this situation. He couldn't very well start revealing all of his dirty little secrets to her, as curious as he was about her reaction. Right? Wouldn't be quite smart to hand her any more ammunition by admitting just how often she disrupted his thoughts nowadays, even if it was in a completely understandable way. Women always read into things what wasn't there. It just didn't make much sense why he cared whether she believed some sentimental notions about him if they weren't true. Because then she'd stop talking to him after her pink shades will have shattered?... Some confusing shit they had going.

Despite his best efforts to look affronted by Scare's commentary, Brock was failing miserably in his fabrications. Perhaps due to the prior wave of distraction she'd unleashed upon him. Next time, it would be advisable to resist any temptations of glancing at her lips when they were in the middle of doing something provocative, whether intentionally or not. There was no barrier to stop his prompt reply. "Then it's high time you repay the favour." The lopsided smirk he borne was doing little for the intended causality of his proposition, but the man didn't hesitate to explain why it was truly an excellent idea. "It's only fair if you make me suffer such a horrible display as well." The empathy he was gifted with was obviously limitless if he agreed to undergo a torture of this kind only to make her feel better about hers. There was no way she was going to believe that bull, but hey, at least he gave it a try.

Whoa. Scare was most definitely back on track by now and found the Auror somewhat unprepared for such a calibre. Nevertheless, he took the shot readily; his pale eyes narrowing ever so slightly, encasing the growing intensity within, as his broadened lips pulled to the side. The game was so on. Had been for a while, in fact, but Scare just unwittingly kicked it up a notch. Or was it her intention all along? "Well, you've never shared your ample flying experience," Brock argued mildly, though he was far from done with her. "But I can guarantee you've never ridden anything like mine. I'd even offer a casual ride but it might be too wild for you to handle. Not to mention the shaft is, admittedly, quite disproportionate for unaccustomed passengers." Despite the popular believe, the Auror could be sufficiently eloquent if he chose to, although there often wasn't enough incentive for him to even try. Nothing like a war of innuendos with Scare to make his morning. It was in complete continence that his thumbs chose that moment to patently hook into the pockets of his pants.

It had been almost criminal how shamelessly Scare had taken advantage of his closeness, but virtually nothing could spur a complaint from his mouth. It was a shocking contrast only to have her warmth replaced by a rush of cold breeze, the encouraging violent drum of her heartbeat against his fingertips changing place with odd kind of numbness. Brock recognized the dissatisfied groan, having been too familiar with the feeling himself throughout the term. In any other situation, not involving Scare, unfortunately, it was entirely unlike him to leave a lady hanging - not like she was alone in suffering from some seriously ruffled feathers - but the man recognized where the situation had been headed. Whether it was denial or his stubborn efforts to redirect his thoughts elsewhere, he was doing a decent job of keeping the displeasure to himself. What he really needed was to jump into the lake to cool down, but ignorance just had to do.

As expected, Hiccups' fitness proved to be abysmal, and as Brock shortly realized he could have continued on running backwards the whole distance. His strategy to prod her on showed little benefit, apart from the obvious entertainment value. But no protests were found in regards to her losing the upper layer, though the man helpfully suggested that, "Tossing the shirt might help." From then, he was helpless to stave off the occasional glance her chest attracted, and changing directions once again begun to seem like an appealing option. It was one of those candid looks that informed Brock the current objects of his fixation lagged behind. "Dropped your soap?" he regarded her with curious amusement, clearly contemplating her positioning, as he walked the short distance back to the woman and squatted down to her level. There was not a droplet of sweat on the man's skin since his colleague joined in, but he was surprisingly not in the slightest bothered about the inefficiency of the exercise. "Let's go, Lazy, it's not that far," Brock reassured with a loud clap of his hands. "You know you wanna go all the way with me..." pausing to wag his brows suggestively up at her, he wet his lips in consideration only to add as an incentive, "So what if I say the first in gets a prize of their choice?" An idea of actually letting Scare win merely to sate his curiosity about her choice flitted insistently through his mind. "I'll even give you a head start."
Edited by Brock Baker, Feb 3 2013, 03:49:34 PM.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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Funny, that he should expect elaboration on her part without giving anything in return. Not that she'd have much to say, even had he deemed to expand upon the suggestion first. Indeed, she hadn't even really considered what had been said to any depth before she'd responded in the proper manner. And given the chance to fully peruse the thought she found herself remembering why she generally tried to keep away from such content. Brock was distracting enough without allowing her mind to play him up into something he wasn't. As it was he had far too much sway over her life. All the reminders in the world didn't seem enough warning to keep her away. Lee understood that he was trying to dodge around the topic. Why? It occurred to her that she could flat out ask the question she wanted the answer to. Not that she expected him to ever admit how much brain capacity was devoted to her daily. Probably too much. And couldn't she relate? Why the sudden surety that this was the reason he had deflected her query? Against all odds, had she developed a bit of an ego? A wry smile clipped onto her features, for a brief moment, and she shrugged, dismissing the topic before she had to make any definitive decisions.

That had to be the worst proposition she'd ever been witness to. And, working at a Pub over summers, she'd seen, if not been the object of, quite a few. It would have been impossible not to laugh, what with the way his demeanour suggested he'd just come up with the best thing since sliced bread... Had she at all insinuated that she needed compensation? How did he even come up with this crap? So, instead of doing the sane thing and shooting his suggestion down, "I wouldn't dream of being so ungenerous." The Professor remarked simply, thinking, obviously, that she couldn't stand to be the woman who lost him something as important as his eyesight. As this only possible response to direct exposure would be immediate bleeding from the eyes. Certainly that wouldn't be very fair. Lee, of course, wasn't trying to get out of his suggested arrangement. No, that would be silly.

Was it the years of experience that allowed such vulgarities to spew, seemingly, without thought behind? Lee couldn't say she envied the talent, it was just staggering trying to keep up. The Professor's eyes, drawn by the movement of his hand, lingered for a brief moment before flitting up to Brock's face. "I didn't say ample," An eyebrow cocked upwards suggestively, "But I'll handle anything you give me." Halle made it a point not to lie directly in her entendres and she'd found a very interesting way of dancing around the truth. It was a matter of what one believed, in regards to what was being said. Was this easier for Brock because he had a disproportionate ego? Or from valid experience? Oi. Let's just not think that one through too much. If the opposing party were to consider everything insinuated as facts, they'd both have a lot to live up to... And she'd most likely try very hard to meet expectations.

For more reasons than one, the woman would not have minded had her colleague decided to shove her into the lake as a prank. Lee certainly wouldn't put it past the man, but as she stood hunched over, panting heavily, she wondered if her legs would give out and simply tip her into the lake. It would certainly save both of them the trouble. Man, she was just full of optimism today. There wasn't much in the way of words as the man rejoined her. She waved her hand feebly, as if to shoo him away. He could at least have the decency to let her suffer quietly. A glare was his only response; the oxygen she was taking in was quickly gone towards muscles that required her attention far more than the man squatting in front of her. It did the woman little good to see how unaffected he was by the distance and she would have happily shoved him into the lake had she the energy. Of course he would say it wasn't very far. Halcyon's breathing was quieting now. One deep breath in through her nose and then out through her mouth... His clap solicited nothing more than a wary look followed closely by her eyes rolling. "Not... a matter of what I want." It was hard to be suggestive when out of breath. A long breath after her first word, the rest of the sentence coming out in a quick slur before she needed to take in another breath. Brock never was good at giving up. There was no way she'd win, unless he let her. That much was obvious. Was it bad to be tempted to agree if only to see if he chose to let her win? The thought of risking the consequences was not appealing. The Professor straightened, wobbling only slightly at the exertion, though a large part of her wanted to collapse onto the man and just not get up for the rest of the day. "It's not happening, sexy." This was said almost normally, though her face was still flushed from exertion and she was starting to fear her heart beat would be permanently heightened. She even had enough energy to jokingly reference one of the reasons it wasn't going to happen. The other, more obvious reason, being her legs sudden decision to replicate jell-o. Halle imagined she'd be able to move given a few more minutes rest but didn't want to waste the time articulating it. As for making it through the second half... It'd take time, probably more than either of them was willing to spare. The Professor swiped the back of an arm across her forehead, clearing away some of the moisture that had gathered. In this she was glad to be wearing contacts, glasses would have been a pain in the ass. "Maybe if you carry me halfway." The woman suggested, her voice shockingly serious. Wait, that had already happened... Admittedly she'd probably find the ground to protest were he to agree and follow through with her suggestion.
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Brock Baker
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Quite frankly, not that Scare would ever get to hear it out loud, Brock was rather relieved she hadn't yet mention the other happenings of that night. Not really for having complimented her hind end, as that wasn't a topic he normally minded breaching, albeit in a more taunting way; and he doubted she ever realized what he'd been so poetic about. It was his words in the native tongue that betrayed him to a greater extent, and even more unsettling was the exposure of what should have remained concealed to anyone but himself. And that hadn't even been the first time. Not such a stretch of time in advance, during their public yelling match, he'd also allowed the well ignored fear to dig its way out through the forsaken grounds only to reveal its uninvited head. He could chalk the second time up to the crippling poison messing with his brain, had he ever needed to. But that was the thing. Scare never brought it up. About a decade ago, he surely would have taken advantage of any revealed insecurities, and even now the habit came in handy now and then. Brock was uncertain whether she was truly doing him some sort of a favour or simply found the topic unimportant, perhaps even forgot all about it. Which was why he preferred not to remind her. In fact, they generally tended not to bring up any heavier baggage from the past, and he was totally fine with that. Except, of course, exceptionally for teasing purposes. "You'd be surprised how much arse I gotta deal with every day," he finally replied, in utter sobriety. Leaning back to take a glance, the man shrugged vaguely. "Rest assured even your titanic display wouldn't obliterate this Auror." A faint smirk reappeared as he added, "Permanently scar, maybe." The timbre of his voice was such as to point out the merits, were she even to change her mind.

Once upon a time, Brock would have been rather impressed that Hiccups hadn't yet chickened out with a stutter in tow. Her participation still held a similar effect, even if they were only discussing Quidditch. Or did she believe he had something else in mind? Well, if he were to be honest she was making his overactive brain venture off in a different direction without much grievance. Who would have ever thought that out of all the women he'd challenged in such a way, Scare would be one of the rare ones to fight back in kind. And, shockingly, the most productive. So to speak. "Alright then," he met her claim with an arched eyebrow, his amusement clearly palpable, "we'll see tonight how good you really are at handling the wood." For some reason, Brock couldn't help but look forward to the evening just a little bit more, if only to see how she'd cope. With the actual broomstick. Unless she insisted on seeing more than that. Undoubtedly a good thing it was still so cold outside.

Not that he would ever admit to that, but watching a breathless Scare wasn't the dullest activity he'd ever undertaken. Better not to stray into the reasoning behind that. Though, admiring the view his perspective presented wasn't exactly the right step away from the often frequented gutter path. So what, not that there were better things to do waiting for her to cool down. No advisable ones, anyway. Letting his gaze follow the woman as she stood upright, his hands sprung out instinctively at the unsteady motion to secure a hold at her waist. Surely only to keep her from toppling onto him; there was no ulterior motive at all. Although on second thought, Brock couldn't find any legitimate downsides to the alternative either. The line of his lips quirked at the once requested nickname, rewarding it with a brief downward drift of his palms. "Not scared of losing, are you?" The man resurfaced shortly, utilizing his firm purchase despite not suffering the slightest necessity to do so, and then promptly forgot about his hands altogether. Not the greatest instance to realize they were far enough from the castle for nobody to notice them this time of the day. The interesting solution Scare came up with deserved an amused snort. "We know how that ended last time," he reminded with a smirk that suggested he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of checking out what she refused to show earlier. Without the threat of deathly spiders around, which was a bit of a turn off once they dined on a chunk of his tender flesh. "Or..." Brock begun teasingly with a playful glint in his eye as his thumbs spontaneously mapped her hip bone, "you could show me that thing you've been so shy about." He was way too curious about what she'd think he was referencing to give any more clues. It had been a while since requesting an aerial exhibition without any luck, and he had barely resisted suggesting it a couple of minutes ago. Simply because he elected to see her sweat some more. Both figuratively and literally. But Brock was fairly sure he wouldn't bear any complaints if she followed through, regardless of what her chosen meaning would be.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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It wasn't within Halle's nature to bring up something someone had said when they weren't quite themselves. Admittedly she had spent a great deal of time pushing much of that night to the back of her mind. Her initial worry for the man's well being far overclouding any curiosity in regards to the sudden realization he spoke a different language. Worry? Yes, she had been. More so than she'd readily admit to. There had been plenty of time to bring it up, since that night. Yet she had refrained. Lee was fairly certain she wouldn't get a straight answer from the man and there was this unspoken rule about not bringing shit like that up. It wasn't overly difficult to come to the conclusion that he wouldn't want to give her the meaning of his words, mia culone; determining the meaning through context along told her that much. (It was apparent by how avidly she remembered his spoken words that she'd had little luck getting them out of her mind. But then, it also marked the first time, ever, he hadn't used one of his dastardly nicknames... Could she be blamed?) Halcyon was also fairly certain he wouldn't appreciate being reminded of how tender- Hell, she didn't like thinking about it. Perhaps it would be better to lead the conversation in a different direction. "Much of it your own." The Professor remarked shortly, her thoughts elsewhere. A more bemused expression took hold at his assurances, but Brock was given little in the way of an actual response.

There was little to say to that. Other than a bit of begrudged mumbling. If she were to survive the run, which seemed highly unlikely. More likely she'd keel over and get dropped in the lake, only to be killed by one of the residents. A watery grave. Where the devil was her head at? "You'll be the death of me." Luckily there was a far more reasonable explanation than the one her own brain had followed, she didn't appear too crazy. If anything, a shallow complaint. But, honestly, it was meant more in good humour than anything else. Why else would she be here? As much as she liked to pretend he was sitting back pulling strings, there was hardly a time when she didn't participate of her own volition. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go flying with the man... It was fairly easy to imagine how quickly that could turn into something not-so-innocent and she tried not to. Really, she did. It was a very terrible time to realize that all of their encounters could be equivalized with another term. It took a great deal of convincing to get that word out of her head because no good would come of likening anything they did together as dating.

Would she ever get used to the way he jumped to support her? Having been all but too aware of the way his gaze had been lingering on her the past bit she could do nothing but swallow harshly and be glad that her cheeks couldn't get any more red. The realization of his attentiveness alone was far more than enough to cause overheating. There wasn't any way she could deal with him properly right now. Her tongue didn't really seem ready to reprimand him for not removing his hands when it became apparent she wasn't going to topple over. His distractions taking her a little too far away from the conversation for comfort, she shook her head in attempts of cooling it off. "You're joking." This muttered low enough, it might escape his notice. Because if she were to do anything but lose they'd first have to be in some wacky alternative universe, where, by some extreme jolt of luck, she wasn't a complete loser. In retrospect, she wished she hadn't voiced such an obvious thought process. The words had been meant in all encompassing sort of manner that suggested at how low her self esteem remained. A reminder they both could do without.

Her thoughts must have still been lingering on that night to have brought it up again, she mentally kicked herself for doing so. Lee was relieved to note he had an alternative. Less so when she realized what it entailed. Had she a bottle of water she would have thrown it in his face instead of drinking it because he was so impossibly frustrating. Man, his hands had no right being so distracting. Halle knew enough, by now, that he was referencing something completely different to what he was leading her to assume. She could only curse his memory because, again, she had absolutely no idea what he was on about. The thought that she could remove his hands herself came belatedly. (The battle then centred around if she wanted to--) With a look that cleverly mimicked his playfulness her own hands found their way to his; gently pushing with her fingers until theirs were interlocked. The woman pushed with the palms of her hands, and took a small step closer. Her intention, rather innocent, merely to return the hands to their rightful owner. A corner of her lips, betraying her in its impudence, twitched upwards slightly in amusement. "Care to clarify?" The Professor's only option had been to ask for elucidation, could anyone blame her for wanting to sway his decision on how, exactly, he chose to do so?
Edited by Professor Halcyon Hicks, Feb 7 2013, 11:02:38 PM.
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Brock Baker
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Auror | DADA Teacher | Head of MLE

Regarding her with a curious sort of glance, Brock searched for a reason behind the alternation in the woman's delivery. She couldn't possibly be affronted by his teasing; even seemed to have developed a certain resistance quite some time ago. He could have easily returned a higher calibre of insult to assess that theory, but found himself reluctant to risk her bolting off. Perhaps granting Scare with a taste of her own medicine was a better course to take in this case. And so he did, with a mild snort and a shake of his head. However, the thought had already wormed itself into the back of his mind; he'd just need to find a better opportunity to test her limits. Besides, it could serve as a way of illustrating that none of what might have been said in past was actually meant to... but Hiccups must have been aware of that already, he chose to believe.

Scare couldn't have possibly been serious with her remark. Numerous times in the course of past few months it had been rather obvious the circumstances really worked the other way around. To Brock at least, and hopefully not as obvious to her. Sieving the disbelief from his amusement fairly quickly, the man couldn't resist but counter away cheekily. "Please, I haven't even tried." Alright, that perhaps wasn't a complete truth, but he certainly hadn't got an option to take those attempts as far as he would have preferred. Not that the allowed methods weren't entertaining enough, but it was only a matter of time before they ceased having the desired effect on her. On one hand, Brock lived off challenges and coming up with different ways of overcoming obstacles, but there was only so much originality he could achieve with the glaring handicap. Giving her any reason to call him boring again was out of the question. "Afraid of getting a bit sore, Professor?" the man carried on bawdily. Just as he wasn't entirely certain of what she was referring to, the accusation was versatile enough to deal both with the run and the later practice, whatever she pictured it to encompass.

Was it in vain to try and conceal just how vastly he enjoyed her state of disarray? The signs would have been nigh imperceptible to an ordinary eye, but his were finely tuned for moments like this one. Most of the times, Brock truly didn't have any hidden schemes of getting his hands on her. But with the foot already stuck in, he felt no rush to walk away anytime soon, not without taking a nice little gander behind the door. If she hoped the faint grumble would elude him, well, his hearing was vigilant as ever not to let any such possibility occur. "Does this look like my joking face to you?" Brock cocked an eyebrow, succeeding to keep his features impassive for a few meaningful seconds. He had a hunch there was more behind that statement than met the ear, but couldn't quite point his finger at what exactly it was. The purpose of his perfectly stoic face was ruined when a corner of his lips opted to flinch from the sustained exertion.

It was boundlessly infuriating how a slightest touch from this woman had the tendency to instantly jumpstart his heart, completely oblivious of the fact the treacherous organ had been just fine on its own. But Brock wouldn't dream of backing off. That wasn't even a choice. His blue eyes were too busy daring hers to visually confirm what the electrifying contact was telling him. Trying to mask the struggle of not glancing at her lips brought about with her minor advance, he didn't foresee that the unobstructed view above would ironically work against his resolution. He tutted in waggish reproval, "Honey, where would be the fun in that." His fingers closed lightly around the back of her hands, with just enough leeway for Scare to easily extricate herself had she truly wished to, as he brought them casually behind his back and let the laws of physics substantially narrow the distance between them. It really was her fault they found themselves on the right tracks for yet another precarious ballgame. But hey, at least he had an excuse of wanting to leave her with a hint. "Feeling particularly sinful today?" the Auror inquired deeply, disregarding how her flushed warmth begun to seep into his exposed arms. There had been no mention of Scare's book in past, mostly because Brock hadn't found the time to even look at the cover to justly bring forth any mockery. It was during the Christmas break when a copy of her work found its way into his hands, but he hadn't referenced to the book for the sake of ridiculing it. And, in truth, he would not object if she wasn't to catch the reference at all.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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Lee found herself, perhaps for the first time since she'd established he was, questioning Brock's interest. He had come to expect a certain thing from her, as she had him. It wasn't as though they bunkered down at night and swapped life stories. To him, she must be this entirely new creature, sprung from the ashes of a stuttering girl he teased in school. What he didn't realize was that she had always had the capacity for witty retorts; the stammering mess he knew back in high school simply lacked the confidence to properly articulate words, much less stand up for herself. By this point, she couldn't pass this off as simply his intrigue. So what was it? Her mind startled her with a few redeeming qualities she possessed. (Not just physical ones.) By the time she'd dealt with the shock of her discovery she'd forgotten what had brought about it's initial coercion.

The Professor had merely been remarking upon the fact that, before him, she had spent a lot of time indoors. Reading books. Where the chance of accidental death was greatly decreased. Her look turned more wary, as she had absolutely no doubt who would win if they were ever to fight to the death. Seriously fight, mind you. Halle wasn't entirely sure why she'd needed to correct that, it wasn't as though he'd take the chivalrous route and kill himself were they ever forced to battle. Nor would she want him to. Yikes, that just got confusing. Simply put, he could do more good if left alive. Right. Only reasoning. "Just reminiscing back on a simpler life." The woman replied, disregarding his bawdiness and hoping to poke a hole in the bubble floating his parade. Halle supposed he couldn't relate. But then, it entirely depended on ones definition of simple. As, for Brock, blowing things up was most likely second nature and thus, by default, quite simple. Much like his intelligence. Alright, he'd proven himself to be above degrading mental comments such as that. "I wouldn't be here if I was." Lee assured him, after a small moment, quipping back in the usual manner.

Luckily his ridiculous 'serious face' proved to be quite distracting from any interesting hand positioning and she, somehow, managed not to laugh in his face. Her lips pressed together in a lame attempt at concealing her amusement and she caved when she noticed his lip twitch. "Don't hurt yourself, Sweetie." A light laugh escaped and she had to catch it from turning into something uncontrollable. There had been an imploring note behind her request, mixed in with the normal bravado, because he really didn't need to go through such lengths to- what- make her feel better? Certainly that wasn't by design. Not that the alternative was any better. Halle had been feeling down on herself, though it certainly hadn't been any fault of his. Simply the state of her physical condition was enough. The woman refused to believe that simply being around the man was enough to alter her mood so unequivocally in a positive direction.

Halcyon had been moments away from pulling herself from the man when his fingers had responded to her advance. There was a very small moment where she was allowed to consider the fact they were, again, holding hands... It was always a grounding sort of experience, proving just how immature their relationship was that something like this should be so interesting. They were drawn closer together by what seemed to be no one particular force and her gaze was finally able to meet his without shying away. A task normally made quite difficult. She felt belittled in his gaze which always seemed, to her, to demand answers to questions the owner refused to ask. The Professor wondered what her eyes betrayed of her thoughts. The inkling that she was hugging the man was blissfully pulled from her conscious in his inquiry. Her mind snapped, rather suddenly to what he was actually referencing. Perhaps in an attempt at saving her the embarrassment of dealing with the alternative thought process. A few quick connections were made, he'd been interested enough to find her book if not read it. (Brock had the attention span of a rock, she doubted he'd ever made it fully through a book.) Plus, he hadn't teased her about it. Of course, she'd probably have more grounds for teasing if he admitted to reading it. So, then, he was asking after her animagus form. Why hadn't she thought of that?

The Professor, now wondered if she should play up her ignorance and see just how far this could go...

The initially confused look turned to one of intrigue as her right hand pulled from his grip and moved lightly, up his arm, resting on his chest. "Only with you." Her eyes, which had followed the path of her hand quietly moved back to his face and she found herself smirking slightly. It would be highly immoral of her to agree to a race where she was a sparrow. Only a fast sprinter could keep pace. And there certainly wasn't anyone else she'd consider such a deal with. Not allowing him to take advantage of the opportunity she had presented him she pulled away from the man entirely. (Though she would have liked nothing more than to take advantage of his sleeveless arms a little longer...) "You get interested in the strangest things." The Professor informed him, quietly spinning the conversation in an entirely different path, perhaps wondering if she could disorient him as he often did her, he had yet to see her animagus form despite having been pestering her about since the start of term. It was fairly simple to make bridges between what other strange things he'd taken interest in. "Go on, I'll give you a head start." The woman finished with a slight smile, feeling suitably revived to transform into a bird and tease him in the meantime.
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Brock Baker
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Scare really wasn't taking him literally, was she? Because he still couldn't tell whether she was worried he'd really hurt her or... well hurt her in a good sort of way. As she did him to a point. But was it truly her actions or simply the results of the restrictions constructed between them. Perhaps it was precisely that tension that that made her closeness so remarkably akin to balancing on a knife's edge between excruciatingly unbearable and maddeningly desirable. Surely, she wouldn't be just as distracting once his curiosity was properly sated. Funny how his mind still managed to bring up original reasons for why confronting the issue was a good idea. Brock scoffed at her meek explanation. "Boring, you mean," he corrected readily. The man couldn't imagine his life becoming simple anytime soon. It hadn't been for as long as he could remember. But despite the demands of his job, he couldn't see himself doing anything else. Not only because this was possibly the only thing he was any good at, career-wise, a damn brilliant Auror were anybody to ask, but he'd grown too accustomed to a life where a man needed to keep on his toes to stay alive. And how did Scare fit into all this? Often, it felt like he was the only one making shit difficult between them, maybe even more so than it needed to be, but he couldn't let himself allow to be that selfishly irresponsible guy when it came to those important aspect of his life. Oh, crap. So she was important now? His private life really had been a lot simpler before she wedged herself right in the middle of it. Brock wouldn't go as far as to say it had been boring, but more like... lacking? Scare's retort shook the man out of the bizarre though process and plastered a slight smirk over his formerly impassive face as he remarked pointedly, "Gotta love a woman eager for some tough workout." Although Hiccups seemed nothing but unexcited about the run, she had at least showed up.

The pull of his facial muscles was terribly hard to resist, and not even the partly mocking lift of an eyebrow was enough to completely eradicate the looming smile. When had making the woman laugh become even remotely half as satisfying as embarrassing her? And why was it taking him so long to accept that realization? Aside from the annoyingly corny air it carried. "Think I can survive a bit of pain," Brock pronounced jauntily, stealing a meaningful glance to check whether Scare was graced with the same set of flashbacks as him. Only barely had he stopped the suggestion of further mistreatment from escaping his lips. It wouldn't do to leave her with verbal approval of any physical abuse she could think of. Not that he was normally into that sort of stuff, but his thoughts regarding Scarecrow hadn't been exactly within the usual, already rather messed up, norms. If only due to their frequency. She probably already suspected as much, so there was no need to encourage her into breaking all of his resolve. Again.

The longer the moment of silence between them lasted, the more Brock was inclined to act. And, irritatingly, none of the inclinations were permitted. His face was brought scarcely an inch closer in his inquiry, and his eyes, involuntarily descending towards her lips, were suddenly drawn further down to monitor the venturing hand Scare stole from him. It was entirely unjustified to be left with such a faint but distinct chill in its trail. With his chin still declined, Brock lifted his gaze to connect with hers at those three words she provided. It took the man a moment too long to open his mouth in a response. A second when his thumb subliminally stroked along the pulse on the inside of her wrist. A second he dedicated to reining that overwhelming urge in. A second too many to enable her escape. Shit. She was getting disturbingly good at this. Or was he growing weaker? Any such contemplations were disbanded with her welcome distraction, and the sense of smugness found its way back onto his face as though she hadn't just won a round against him. Better to move on than to pause at how close he had just been from negating all space between them, or doing something similarly stupid. "Strangest?" he repeated with a growing smirk as his eyes took a trip downwards. "I'd go with rotund but..." Brock clicked his tongue upon pausing at her chest, before continuing lower. "Whatever gets you going," he finally finished after completing the circuit back to her face.

Did that mean she was about to go through with it? Brock's eyes lit up despite his strive to keep the boyish excitement in, but the fleeting grin as he spoke carried a contrasting kind of insinuation. "Who says I don't already have a head start?" His hands, previously retaining their post behind his back, reached almost incidentally for the dangling sleeves of her sweater, giving it a slight tug to lure her just a little bit closer. His gaze followed their ministration, as though wondering whether it would still be there after her change back to human form, for a moment before targeting her eyes with a similar question. Before he gave himself enough time to remain in her presence and continue where he'd been so rudely interrupted, the fingers of his left rose up to playfully tap her nose before he took a couple of steps back, releasing the fabric as he did so. "Do your worst." Smirking, he threw his hands out in an open invitation for her to start the show - or get back at him in any other way.
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Professor Halcyon Hicks
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Lee rolled her eyes, as he hadn't said anything remotely original. Nor did she feel the need to defend her style of life. As she knew there wasn't anything wrong with it. Except for him, maybe. Their lives couldn't be more dissimilar. If one took a good hard look at either, the other didn't really fit. No, that didn't ring true. It was like she had never really been herself before and this, here, was as her life should be. And if she was entirely through trying to convince herself that it was stupid to think so- Had he said love? What the hell. There had to be a better way of dealing with this than staring at him like a disoriented guppy. While it obviously wasn't a question of him subliminally trying to hint at the depths of his affection she still wasn't sure how to respond because, honestly, she hadn't been aware that word was part of his vocabulary. "You're smothering me." The Professor informed him, humourously, to her merit. It would have been a terrible affront to everything she had established with the man to let such a comment slide without some form of teasing rebuke. Honestly, it would be a strange alternate universe where he was the one smothering her. Would it really, though? Back in the day, she had been the one constantly trying to avoid him. While she no longer went out of her way to evade the man, she certainly was not overcompensating, now, for her initial dislike. Of course, for any of this to matter, she would actually have to feel smothered... Just, of the two of them... He was the more likely perpetrator.

Her eyelids, as though heavy with the memories his words brought forth, lowered slightly even as her smile transformed from broad to evocative. Luckily her thoughts took a more sardonic note and quieted any previous thoughts from breaking the sound barrier. It took her a few moments too long to realize her sardonic thought process was not much of a change from the original. "That sounds like the sort of thing you should be sure of." Really, he was an auror. He should know how much pain he could tolerate. Was it hypocritical to dis his mental capacity whilst pretending to be ignorant to his flippancy? Not that her phrasing had made it sound at all like he was too stupid to know how much pain he could handle. No, it sounded more like... A suggestion? Now it was happening unintentionally. Great. Now she was going to have to put her gob under strict surveillance or risk getting into the same sort of shit Brock often got into. Which, coincidentally, brought upon the physical pain he seemed, and this was the real slap in the face, to get off on.

Did... Had she won? Odd, that she should feel so torn. In the end, triumph had to win over. If she hadn't done it, he would have. Better knowing she'd had control of the situation than allowing him to take it from her. And if it had gone on just a little longer---? She wasn't cut out for this. Dear Christ. His presence had such a way of commanding her attention, even in just a few moments. Such as the ones she had taken them away from. It was in everything he did. And if he could provoke such a response merely be flicking his bloody thumb... "Contextually, you're a little off." The woman informed him, quietly remarking upon the fact that his word didn't fit in her sentence, her hand found a way under his chin and helped his gaze return to eye level. "Whatever?" Right, if he was going to turn her diversion into flirtations, who was she to argue? Killing the insatiable urge to move her fingers along his jaw, the hand dropped and she tried to also kill the disappointment at, once again, not acting upon what she actually wanted to do.

This must be what it felt like to be lassoed. It wasn't a pondering she couldn't say had ever crossed her mind previous. But certainly a nice distraction from the knots forming in her stomach. Knots, undoubtedly, caused by the physical exertion. Which became very hard to tell herself when she realized what his implication was. No longer with the cover physical exertion provided, her face re-reddened at the thought and she might have moved to smack his hand had it not suddenly risen up. The woman scrunched her nose at the man in distaste, as though the crinkling would rid herself of any unwanted remnants Brock's touch provided. "I'd hate to disappoint." The Professor muttered, knowing full well these would be the last words she spoke until they hit the castle. Certainly better they be provocative than anything else. Not particularly caring to hear his response the woman smoothly transitioned into her animagus form.

Halcyon would never properly be able to describe the feeling of becoming something else. (Though she had certainly given it a shot, in her book.) As it wasn't like anything she had experienced previous. A person's animal form was dependent on them as a person, so much so that the transition between could hardly be called such. It felt normal. The fact that Brock was now a great deal larger than her did absolutely nothing for her nerves. He could squash her with the heel of his shoe if he so had the inclination. But then, she was quicker than him. A skill that she demonstrated by taking a quick gander around his head, hovering for a moment at eye level so he could get a better look at her form, before speeding toward the castle. Flying was a treat she did not indulge in often. There were a great many dangers for a bird her size. Stray bludgers didn't generally make the list. Any warning to the ball's presence came too late for her to do anything. The air around had seemed to split in two and she watched, as though in slow motion, as shrapnel from the newly exploded bludger came flying towards her. A sickening crunch, signifying that Brock's help had come a little too late and the sparrow was spiraling to the ground.
Edited by Professor Halcyon Hicks, Feb 13 2013, 02:07:39 PM.
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Brock Baker
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A brief genuinely puzzled look crossed Brock's face, albeit nowhere close to mimicking his colleague's. Why was she looking at him like that? Had he said some-- Oh. Right. She couldn't honestly read into what he'd said. Scare had never appeared to draw pink unicorns and rainbows around anything to have left his disobedient mouth. And boy, had there been far worse than this. Okay, maybe of a different kind but still... some of it was even genuine, unintentionally. Fortunately, the teasing tone was quite apparent in her voice when she did at last utter a remark. But who said he now had to let her get away with it? "Oh," Brock mouthed in a rather convincing surprise, "Did you think I meant you?" As if it was the most unbelievable claim in the world. It was even true, in a sense. Regardless of the wording and how she interpreted it, the woman hadn't exactly met the conditions. Who knew, she could give up halfway through and never want to do this again. Running, that was.

No disappointment there. Every instance he managed to leave Scare with something to think about, consciously or not, was at least a marginal payback for what she accomplished on daily basis without even lifting a finger. Sometimes a bit more than that, yeah, but it was only fair to seize any chance to outgun her. An eyebrow made a quick ascend towards his hairline at the accusation. What exactly was Hiccups hinting at there? "Still here, ain't I?" the man shrugged simply, suggesting he had been through enough painful experiences in his line of work to confirm the previous statement. Last year, this could have been pronounced with a coldness that sometimes arose when his expertise was questioned. But as it were, Baker's pitch revealed nothing of the sort, but a mild intrigue as to what she had in mind, precisely. Scare didn't ask him any specifics or where his threshold lay. The kind that, after being crossed, made hurting someone back the man's only viable retaliation. There really was little he could do when self-preservation stepped in, but Brock had a hunch it was a slightly different sort of information she had been after. Though, as no questions were presented, he didn't need to share. Strangely enough, he didn't even know what the answer would be, or how much pain he would allow her to induce.

Didn't really surprise him that dealing with a Ravenclaw sometimes got a tad annoying. But if it was Scare's way of deflecting what he'd said, Brock couldn't care less. Wait, was it? Every time she blew him off in a similar manner... it kind of started to look like a pattern. And certainly warranted further assessment. Meaning, basically being an ass to her. But her touch derailed that train as his lips quirked at the introduced emphasis. As much as he would have liked to, Brock couldn't very well offer all of his services. If only for that tiny feeling insisting she might ask for something unrelated to what he'd hope for. Like making animal noises or whatever. Licking his lips while rephrasing the offer in his head, the man replied, "I'm open to suggestions." There, although not a blind promise she might abuse, his expressive intonation strove to make the statement no less compelling. One more concept for her to think about, with any luck.

It was difficult to conceal the overpowering smirk of self satisfaction valiantly besieging his features at the new hue his words had inflicted to hers. Not even her gesture of feigned disgust could damped his mood afterwards. Brock's hands crossed over his chest smugly, complementing his anticipation. Albeit remaining very still himself, his smile widened briefly as she transformed with an almost surreal ease before taking a trip around his head. "Well, then?" he managed to challenge only to barely catch her escape his sight the next second. Brock spun quickly after the sparrow, arms unfolding as he broke into a run. Never before had he attempted to race one, and it truly wasn't an entirely fair competition. However, that did little to deter the Auror. On the contrary, he sprinted as fast as he could to catch up.

There was a sudden hiss of air from behind and, instantly, Brock's reflexes kicked in. A moment later he would have wished they hadn't. His head jerked to the side to feel, as well as see, a metallic blur of black pass only an inch or two short of his ear. But it didn't stop there, and his gut twisted sickeningly at its further direction. "Watch out!" he managed to holler just as his wand sprung into his already outstretched hand. There was really no time to think of consequences, and it was one of the swiftest spells in his repertoire that connected with the bludger to stop it from reaching its next target. But before he could even register the relief of the averted thread, Brock realized his mistake. The iron ball was already too close and the explosion shortly revealed its consequences. "Shit," Brock muttered breathlessly as his eyes hunted for the animagus in the resulting mess, fortunately spotting her soon enough to slow the fall. There was no space for further expletives as he closed the remaining distance with a sense of cold dread seeping into his bones. Why was she still in her animal form? Why the hell wasn't she moving? Being able to remain level-headed in practically any crucial situation he could encounter certainly made things easier and the needed incantation was on his lips just as he dropped on his knees beside her still frame.

At last materialized back into the woman he knew Brock paused, just for a second, to take in her state. There was no severe damage to be seen but she was rather pale and, most importantly, still not moving. Where was Hawkeye when he bloody needed him? Right, he should still remember to do the basic first-aid stuff they'd all learned at the academy. A set of following spells left his wand, a chant he somehow recalled after well over two years of not needing to use it. They were just the first step really, hopefully to tell him what was wrong with the woman. But patience wasn't on his side. "Damnit, Lee. It was only fun when I did that," Brock uttered, the words tumbling huskily out of his dry throat, while lowering an ear to her face, fingers reaching blindly for the wrist of her hand. "For God's sake be original." He would have given anything for any sign of life, muggle or magical. So what if he had close to no idea how to do this shit properly in either world, giving up was not an option.
Edited by Brock Baker, Feb 19 2013, 05:05:41 PM.
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Halle rolled her eyes, as she didn't have an opinion either way. Perhaps she'd be terribly affronted if she thought the man even remotely able to experience such an emotion. As it was he was too filled with cynicism and crap to have room for anything else. "Oh?" The woman mimicked his surprise, "Did you mean anyone in particular?" As she certainly had taken the comment as a passing one, after the initial shock. But hey, if he was willing to spill the deepest secrets of his heart... Right, something told her that would be like diving in a 2 ounce shot glass.

And that was as in depth as they'd ever gotten. Certainly there could be speculation as to how 'here' the man truly was. After all, he was so many layers of bullshit it was hard to tell if there was anything else at all. Was he then as here as he could be or something else entirely? By this point it was apparent, to her, that there was more to the man. Though she certainly didn't have any conclusive evidence toward that thought process... she couldn't honestly think of any other legitimate reason as to why she allowed the man so much time in her presence. Had he been anything but sincere this wouldn't still be happening. Of that, she was sure. Though still unsure as to its implication. And that was a bit too deep a thought process to go with the intention behind what he'd said. She had barely remembered to cringe at the use of 'ain't'. Instead of taking the opportunity to call him out for sounding like an illiterate hick she decided to let him off easy. Perhaps because he had made her feel better and if they kept this up they'd never make it back to the castle in time. The Professor smiled, having come to the conclusion that maybe she was glad he was. Still here, that was.

The suggestion that came to mind... Well, was he aware of how frustrating he was? Putting just enough out in the open to make her double take but never more. Even just that he was able to deflect her so easily, despite her progress. It felt, sometimes, like she hadn't changed at all. Still little and immaterial, like she had no say in how her life played out. Her lips pursed playfully but she posed no suggestions. There wasn't an point getting sucked back into this, she had a race to win.

So this was what it took to get him to use her name? He was going to be the death of her. She must have passed out, if only for a few seconds. There was no recollection of how she'd managed to hit the ground. The breath she hadn't been aware she was holding was expelled into his ear with, what was undeniably, amusement. Brock was worried, it was almost sweet. (Right, that's what she should be taking from this situation.) A wave of nausea passed over her then and a groan escaped, the woman took in a deep breath and held it in, now quietly battling the pain. There was a tight feeling in her chest and she couldn't feel her right arm. (She wasn't even aware his hand was checking her pulse.) "'Splosion, really?" The words wheezed out, barely above a whisper. Out of all the spells he could have used to stop an impending bludger... Really, she was thankful. The thought she wouldn't have survived otherwise... All the things going on in the world and all it took to bring her down was a fucking ball. Talking had been a bad idea. A dry cough ripped through her, shaking all her aches painfully. Her eyes spun in their sockets before she found the strength of will to focus them. Was that blood? That couldn't be good. Hopefully she'd only bit her tongue on the way down and not punctured something important.

This couldn't be what dying felt like. It was far too uncomfortable. Halle did feel tired and at the moment, slipping back into unconsciousness didn't seem like a bad idea at all. Brock wouldn't let anything bad happen to her... These situations were better when he was the injured one. He didn't know jack shit about healing magic. Hopefully his solution to this wouldn't be quite as explosive as the solution to the bludger. Her left hand rose, in what was supposed to be an insistent manner but turned into more of a feeble pat on the cheek, trying to tell him to get out of her face. So she could breathe. Or vomit without worrying about hitting him with the discharge. Air would help clear her head and maybe, given a few moment to breathe, she'd be able to move. Already she could feel the initial nausea lessening. Or was that her grip on reality? Her eyelids, impossibly heavy, wanted to close... The pain surging through her seemed only to egg on this inevitability. Who was she to argue?
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Brock Baker
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Brock's eyes skimmed down her frame before resting on Scare's face searchingly. Well, if she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily... "I've known two or three," he shared comfortably. Both of the referenced women were his exes, from all the way back before he'd given up on the whole relationships ruse. It suited him better this way, not being expected to deal with all their needy and bitchy crap while still getting to collect on the benefits of female company. But right now it was really the exercise part that led him to mention them. That and as another little test for Hiccups. But to go as far as to use that pathetic word about a woman in any other but a jeering way? Contradictory to the popular belief, he was still a human and therefore capable of emotion, but it felt far less ridiculous rightfully defining that weakness as simple attraction. Not like he'd ever been particularly devastated after a break up. It was good riddance, usually. Brock would have liked to think he could stop talking to Scare any time he wished without a problem, but history had taught him otherwise. Even though it was only because this woman was also his friend.

The relief that flooded his chest, almost to the point of making him dizzy, prompted his eyelids to shutter down over his eyes. A thick swallow later, he shifted to look at Scare's face just as a glimmer of green highlighted her features, from the previously cast diagnostic, to confirm her welfare. The light was somewhat dimmed but he'd witnessed Aurors surviving far worse. His brows furrowed momentarily at her emitted sound and his wand was utilized once more for a mild pain relieving spell. Still, he couldn't make her completely numb before figuring out what was wrong. A roll of his eyes was the lone initial response to her accusation. Although a little voice in the forefront of his mind pushed him to do so, Brock couldn't bring himself to advise her to shut it. It's not like he devoted his life to protecting wildlife, small birds included. They were the least of his worries when burning down half a forest to nick a guy turned out to be the most efficient option present. No, he refused to feel guilty, she was far better off than if he hadn't intervened. The sick feeling returned momently, but he shoved it away by focusing on the situation. "Oh, sorry, let's try it again, shall we?" he brushed the comment off with distilled sarcasm, but a shadow of a smile crept in anyway. His other hand, supporting him with an elbow by her shoulder, subliminally brushed a couple of stray strands off her cheek, remaining close as he spoke up. "Where does it hurt?" His tone would sound impassive to most as the man decided that, rather than trying to remember a ten year old seminar, it would be better to concentrate on what his best medic would do. He had seen Hawkeye tend to wounded on regular basis, and it would be less likely to make more mistakes if he followed an already witnessed routine.

The next step was to... stop the bleeding. Actually should have been the first, but better late than never, right? What was the blood clotting spell again? He'd once given a Knight a stroke with an offensive version of it, but probably better not to try that one on Scare. From his previous evaluation, Brock knew there appeared to be only a couple of mild cuts but a single larger one something as mundane as Episkey wouldn't patch up. And he didn't even know how deep it was, or anything about potential inner bleeding. Maybe if he just tried to-- Wait, why was there a hand on his cheek? Belatedly, Brock recognized the request, pulling back to sit on his heels to give her another once-over, but her increasingly heavier blinks propelled the man forward. Hovering above Scare, he allowed her some more space but his fingers snapped loudly next to her face. "Hey, no rest for the wicked," he declared adamantly. "Besides, only guys sleep after getting laid." His other hand withdrew from her wrist to cover her wound instead. There wasn't too much blood around, but if blood loss was making her faint, he needed to do something about it. As much as he hated asking for help... "Got, uhm... any suggestions?" The words chafed against his throat, but that was something he could live with. Even though he wanted to get Scare to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible, Brock knew enough not to move and make her worse without first fixing what he could. There were exceptions to that rule, but those usually involved curses flying above his head.
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" Brock Baker allows the Chuck Norris meme to exist."
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