A Trivial Guest

It was rare a moment that Owen found himself wide awake in the thick of night. But here he was, finding that the more he tossed and turned, the less he found himself fading into sweet, sweet unconsciousness. It was like an itch - a persistent, bugging itch at the back of his mind that wanted him to do something, he just didn't know what.

After enduring this sensation for more than he could care to tolerate, he finally mustered the will to heave himself out bed. To where, exactly, he couldn't be sure. Perhaps a midnight snack in the kitchen? That would do fine.

A claw skimmed through his unkempt hair - by now, he was pretty adapted to his rather deformed appearance. Heck, he never thought himself too handsome in the first place. The stares were something he could get used to. The tug on his skin had been uncomfortable at first, but he really couldn't feel it any more.

He meandered carelessly down the corridors, his pace rather sluggish and unsteady. Okay, so maybe he wasn't completely awake. Whatever, he wasn't about to turn back now. But a door did catch his unexpected interest - labelled, 'Counselor's Office'. He was reminded of that... Richard guy. He'd met him briefly during the cocktail event - that felt so long ago.

He hesitated outside the door. Why would he want to see this guy? He didn't have any problems. Especially not that 'lying' one. But he was indecisive yet. Was anyone even in there? He pressed his ear against the door, listening for signs of life... or unlife. Whatever he was.

Click.
A golf ball rolled into a glass laying on its side on the ground, spun about, then went right back out. Richard grimaced in disappointment, then sipped some scotch from an identical glass he was holding.
It was a lazy night, but he was in a good mood. In no small part due to the scotch, no doubt.

When the irregular, lumbering footsteps reached him, he paused and leaned on the upside-down cane he was using to putt. They sounded familiar, but different enough for the vampire to hesitate. Heavier, perhaps? He cocked his head, as if that helped him listen. But then the footsteps stopped right outside the door. He rose on to tiptoes to slowly walk over. He could be pretty stealthy when he tried, and the carpet was further aiding his efforts.
When he got closer, Richard could make out the breathing of the person on the other side; that too sounded familiar yet different. He weighted the pros and cons, then decided to take the risk. The worst possible outcome was be that the incorrectly guessed visitor would think less of him for making a mistake; and being underestimated was only to Richard's profit.

"Owen." he said. "Is that you?"

He listened intently, his less than sensitive ears not quite picking up the faint footsteps on the other side. He was more than prepared to just ditch the door and continue on his midnight venture. Nobody was home, or so he believed.

Moving to depart, the voice on the other side startled him - it, no, he knew his name. He found himself stumbling back a few steps, staring at the door like it had just turned into a fish. This was creepy. Creepier than he had expected, and Owen had assumed he'd encountered a lot of creepy things in this academy.

He considered just moving on, pretending that didn't happen. But he found himself rooted to the spot, almost compelled to respond. It took longer than necessary for him to muster the voice to reply. "...Yeah. Yeah, that's me." His eyes skimmed the door, checking for holes to peep through, or even cameras. There were none. "Wasn't doing nothing," he piped: a precaution in case the man thought otherwise.

His eyes ventured across the floor, in an almost guilty manner. He still felt daunted, even though the door acted as a sort of barrier between them. But, he couldn't help but ask.

"...Can I come in."

Judging by the stumble and quickened breathing, yes, it was Owen; or somebody who just got surprised by him suddenly speaking up. Richard waited patiently for them to regain their composure.

Bingo.

He relaxed and lowered himself onto his heels. "I know you weren't." he reassured. With another sip of the scotch, he tucked the cane underneath his arm to free up his hand.
"But of course you may."
He reached for the doorknob and opened the door to courteously let the boy in.
The vampire didn't often find himself at a loss for words. But seeing Owen gave him at least a full second of pause, before he blinked and reminded himself how rude it is to stare.
Well, that explained the differences in how he sounded at least.
He stepped back from the door to create an opening and outstretched his arm towards the room with a smile.
"Be my guest."

Ah, what had Owen dragged himself into? He didn't even like this guy, he was pretty sure he was downright offensive during their last meeting. Yeah, he was a jerk. He felt completely certain in this, despite the fact he'd talked to him for a little over ten minutes. Details, details...

He noticed Richard's partial hesitation after opening the door - nothing much other than a dull glance was returned. Yeah, he was used to it. At least he didn't make a remark out of it.

He wandered past him into the room, making a beeline for a vacant, waiting chair and slumping down on it. There seemed to be a rather... exquisite assortment of collectables decorating the room, and his eyes ventured at the sights with interest. Interest that lasted no more than a few seconds.

He returned his glance to Richard. Well, didn't he have anything to say..? "...Do you seriously stay up all night in here? Sounds pretty boring..." he remarked, hypocrisy at its finest. "Was kinda funny what you said about us though. 'Miserable twits'... Huh.." The chuckle he gave was curt.

"How'd you know it was me anyway," he asked, his tone carrying a trace of accusation.

While Owen went to get himself seated, Richard picked up the glass and the golf ball from the ground. He placed the glass on a cupboard and the cane into an umbrella stand next to it. His hip never got so bad as for him to be forced to use it, and he'd rather stand the pain than show weakness anyway - but a gentleman needs a cane. It's basic equipment. The ball he threw up into the air and caught it as he made his way to his chair.

"Usually sooner or later there arrives somebody who provides me with their most appreciated company." He shrugged. "But yes, occasionally the wait does get tedious."
He sat down, set the glass of scotch on the desk and stretched his shoulders a bit. He smiled at the 'compliment', but said nothing; Owen was one of the biggest offenders in that group.

"I expected you to turn up sometime soon." he said. "Our conversation at the party had been rudely interrupted, and surely you wouldn't stand to leave it unfinished."
He rolled the golf ball along the surface of the desk to his other hand. "Plus, your footsteps are characteristic. Even despite your feet having somewhat... changed in shape."
He looked at Owen with interest. The scales that apparently sprouted on his skin added a new touch to his smell. However, two things still dominated and set the tone to the student's olfactory profile... The scent of food and clinical depression.

A glance was given at the little golfing game Richard had set up for himself. Wow, that looked extraordinarily... dull. It was like walking into a prison cell and seeing 'noughts and crosses' carved into the wall - almost piteous.

His mind didn't linger on it long - soon, his attention was returned to the peculiar man before him. He was friendly enough, but Owen still wasn't inclined to trust him. Beneath that polite demeanour, there was probably a wicked mind waiting to tear him apart.

"I can imagine," he mumbled in response, half to himself.

He did look mildly surprised upon his following statements. He found himself pulling his right leg up to overlap his other one, needlessly examining the rather crooked shape of the foot, idly tracing his claws down its length. Well no duh, of course it was changed.

"So you like, memorise the way everyone walks?" He chuckled in disbelief. "That's kinda sad." And creepy, he internally added. "I wasn't planning on coming though. Was just... passin'".

He thought for a moment, before giving him a curious glance. "About that party though... What happened after you left? 'Cause you came back with..." He made a sort of waving gesture with his hand, as if he assumed Richard would know who he was talking about.

"Yes..." his eyes narrowed, if only for a split second, at Owen's insolence. He grinned in amusement the next moment. "Sad? Perhaps, but I'm sure even you can imagine the possible benefits of knowing who's trying to sneak up behind your back."

He drank some of the scotch before answering the next question.
"...Jami. Yes." He tapped his fingers on the desk as he recalled the situation. "After I exited through the window, I saw flashes of light on the field. I flew over to see your friend and your, hm, acquaintance, duking it out like nobody's business. Not knowing the full circumstances, I did not see it fit to intervene." Never mind the fireballs flying everywhere throwing a wrench in his works, he thought, running a finger along the base of his desk lamp. The iron there was polished to a shine from him repeating that gesture countless times. "So I bid my time nearby until one or the other fell to the ground without intention of getting up. It so happened that it was Jami rather than - what is his name, anyway? - and I stepped in to carry her back to the castle."
Richard shrugged.
"The rest of the story you were a part of."

Owen was reluctant to admit that Richard had a point, because it would make himself seem dumb - although, truth to be told, he did enough of that without Richard's aid. Eventually, he just gave an indifferent shrug, as if it hadn't really mattered at all.

"Leon," he said after he'd finished. "Leon. That's his name. He's a complete ass, I hate him." He crossed his arms, his hatred reaffirmed by the story Richard told. At least, it seemed likely that he was telling the truth. His right foot would eventually slide off his knee and return to the floor - a more comfortable position.

"You could'a least stopped them," he remarked, eyeing the vampire up and down with notable disapproval. "Y'know, before somebody... got really hurt." He did recall Leon claiming it to be Owen's own fault, which he honestly couldn't see why. But at least now he could apply some of this blame to Richard, who, being a figure of authority, probably would've been able to help.

"Leon. I'll keep that in mind." He coughed. "Your honesty is refreshing."

Richard felt like rolling his eyes, but, of course, didn't. He just gave Owen a wry smile.
"Allow me to remind you that at the point in time I was only a guest at a party. It wasn't my responsibility to put my hide in line of fire. That aside..." He raised an eyebrow. "Who, pray tell, got really hurt? I have been gone for but a few days, and after my return I have seen both our culprits out and about. In my humble opinion, a person 'really hurt', would still be confined to a bed."
Richard leaned back in his chair. "I see no flaw in my reasoning. If you do, go ahead - I'm all ears."

Before the boy accused him, he was planning to produce a tray of fresh biscuits from his magical drawer. But no. Owen was not only being rude, he also was being stupid. And that gets you no cookie from Richard.

His honesty? When wasn't Owen honest? He almost scoffed at this - he hadn't recalled being dishonest at all during their meeting. Well, perhaps averting from the truth, but not outright lying. That had to count for something.

However, Richard's defence did cause him to squint in dissatisfaction. Why did he have to be so logical? Not only that, he was bigoted about it too. Condescending. The jerk. "It... could'a been a lot worse y'know. Someone could'a died." Well, he was pretty sure it wouldn't go that far, he hoped, but he could at least use it as an argument.

"By any chance," he started, his brown eyes sweeping over the desk as if to look for something. "You got any gold? I kinda need it."

"I said I stepped in when one of the fighters was on the ground." he said almost coldly. "That should suggest to you that I wanted to prevent any... finishing off that could have happened next."
He was starting to feel a bit annoyed. He had to break through to this kid, somehow; but Owen wasn't making it easy. With a sigh, the vampire pulled on a more friendly expression.
"Listen... I understand you're angry about what happened to your friend, but don't take it out on me. I swear to God, I am not your enemy."

Gold? Haha. As if. Gold, as it appears in everyday use, is actually a gold alloy; and that alloy often contains silver.
"No, I'm afraid I can't help you there."
Richard gave him a curious glance but did not inquire further.

Owen's frown was beginning to look more like a scowl the more Richard spoke. He was fully prepared to disregard his arguments. Why did he always have a reasonable comeback? Couldn't he just shut up and admit that he was right? His thumbs twiddled in an impatient manner. "Whatever."

Brows furrowed at his following words. "Angry?" he echoed, before dismissing the very idea of it with a wave of his hand. "M'not angry. I'm fine actually. Never been happier." His tone was notably grumpy. "Even if I was, I'm not taking it out on you." He paused for a moment to stare. "I never said you were an enemy." Man, this guy was jumping to conclusions.

No gold? That was a bother, although Owen swore that there must've been some hidden somewhere. There had to be, he looked fancy enough. It did help that he didn't question further though.
"S'ok." He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.

There had to be a way to get on Owen's good side, there just had to. But Richard would much rather try and think of it without having to look at his pouting, chubby, malformed face. Having it within sight made it that much harder for him to care about the boy at all.

"Then why are you being so defensive?" Richard sighed. "And before you say 'I'm not being defensive', please reconsider. Should you, after said reconsideration, still feel it is an appropriate response, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He made a slight motion as if beginning to get up from his seat. "Even my makeshift golfing is a less pointless past-time than a conversation like this."

"I'm not--" Richard hit the nail on the head before Owen could even finish his protest, and the boy moodily clammed his mouth shut. He was going to ask him to leave? No way. Owen didn't intend to leave just yet, in fact, he was pretty adamant about staying put right where he was. He'd only just arrived after all. Besides, he wasn't even acting that bad.

There was a pause before he responded to it though - in fact, one could guess that he could actually be considering his words. After only a few seconds, he gave an indifferent shrug. "'Cuz I don't like you." Well, he asked. "You think you know everything, but you don't."

His gaze never met the vampire's, it seemed distracted, watching his feet idly shuffle together on the floor.

He waited patiently for Owen to make up his mind. After he answered, though, Richard couldn't help laughing.
"But Owen," he said. "you don't like anything. That is not reason enough to be defensive."
Apart from Jami, Richard added in his head. But he suspected the boy was defensive towards her just as much... if not even more.

He shook his head to try and gather some sobriety. He wasn't gaining any points with the student by being amused with his issues.
"You do have a point, though - I realize I might have been acting a bit... self-important." Richard bowed his head. "And for that, I apologize."

Didn't like anything--- Owen found his mouth hanging ajar at this statement. What kind of counsellor was he anyway, throwing around offensive claims like that. Of course he liked stuff! In fact, Owen started ticking off a list of objects in his head that he very much liked - disregarding the fact that half of these were technology, which the academy lacked in.

"You're sorry?" he scoffed. "So you think you can talk crap and say 'sorry' like it's okay?" He almost laughed. If only all things were that easy. "Nu uh. I'm not having it, man. You think--" He cut himself off to raise his hand, pointing an accusative finger at Richard, and raising his voice. "You think you're so cool sitting there behind your desk like you know everything! You think you know me just 'cuz you've been snooping on me a few times! You don't know anything!"

He resumed his prior position - arms crossed with a grouchy stare to the floor.

Richard raised his hands up in a half pleading, half yielding manner. At least he got a reaction out of this anthropomorphic representation of apathy... that had to amount to something.
He glanced down at the desk. Owen could be right; the distance it built between the counselor and whoever was in the chair could work against him. But he loved the thing so much! Perhaps he should add a couch which they would occupy when a guest arrives instead... But what kind of upholstery would fit in here? In the same color as the curtains, or maybe a complementary tone would be best?
He felt like slapping himself. Focus, Richard.

"Fine." he said. "I don't know everything. I never said I did. I'm sorry if I left that impression on you." He gave Owen an honest look. "I never meant to be a nuisance to you." He coughed. "What would I need to do for you to accept my apology?"

To be honest, Owen wasn't sure how to respond to Richard's apologetic statements. It was like he wanted to find some fault in them, like he wanted to continue upholding his irrational grudge against the man. But he had to be so... agreeable. Annoyingly so.

"I dunno," he lamely shrugged. For a moment, it didn't look like he was going to contribute anything else to the conversation, before he raised his head to give a rare glance to his face. "Aren't you meant to be a counsellor or something? Like, making stuff better? Giving advice and crap?" The chuckle he gave was brief and humourless. "'Cuz I think you kinda suck at your job."

Richard remained silent for a second.

Then he cleared his throat.

Then, he pulled on an entirely unforced-looking grin. "Your input is appreciated."
If you have any further questions or concerns, fill in this form and leave it in the box by the door on your way out.
But no. He couldn't say that.
He nodded thoughtfully. "If I may ask, though... What exactly are you basing your opinion on?" He rolled the golf ball from one hand to the other again. It couldn't be first-person experience, could it? Richard didn't recall Owen requesting his aid before. Unless... the party...?
He looked to the boy with renewed interest.

Appreciated? Hah. Owen had just totally ripped him, and Richard couldn't do a thing about it except pull a polite face. It almost felt powerful, and Owen had assumed that Richard was supposed to be the one with the power. It was a good way to vent his frustrations against the man.

"I'm basing it off the fact you're a bastard." He coolly inspected his claws while hardly looking at them. "You know, you don't just go around calling people liars," he scoffed, whether it had been true or not. "Even if you've like... only known them for once day." he was of course, referencing that party, where Richard's wise words of 'advice' still played in his mind. Lying to himself? That hardly even made any sense.

"I mean, you show up at the school randomly one day and start poking into everyone's business and you think that means we should respect you or something? Nu uh." His fingers irritably tapped the the opposite elbow. "Just 'cause they hired you don't mean I'm gonna welcome you. Personally, I think you got no right to be here."

So, that's what he was still sore about? Well, all that means was that it hit a sensitive spot.
Richard folded his hands, giving the boy a thoughtful look. He should be angry, but somehow he wasn't. It was hard to take seriously being insulted by somebody this pathetic.

"If you put some effort into actually using that Yankee brain of yours, surely you will remember that you, indeed, asked me for my point of view. With me, it's ask and ye shall receive."
He narrowed his eyes, looking with disdain over Owen's tubby form. "And what you're asking for right now is a nice, lengthy detention, water-and-stale-bread style. Lord knows you could benefit from several months of it."
Richard grinned, but the smile did not reach his eyes - it was more of a baring of teeth.
"But I still value your opinion, of course - do you have any more enlightening commentary to share?"

Owen found his jaw dropping the more that Richard spoke. Oh no he didn't. He found himself tensing, as if he were ready to stand up and smack that hooligan right in the face. But he didn't move. He stayed put.

It was clear now, Richard was blatantly insulting him. Not the kind of behaviour he'd expected from a staff member - or an adult, even. Detention was a worrying thought - could he really issue one that was months long. "You can't--" he started. cutting himself short to simply stare in outrage.

"You--! You're a--! I just--!" His jaw hung open a few seconds more before he slumped back down into the chair defeatedly. "No," he grumbled. "I don't."

Richard stared at Owen sternly for a bit longer. It was certainly good that he yielded, Richard wouldn't really want to give him that detention. It would only make him bear more deeply rooted of a grudge.
But on the other hand, he wished Owen didn't give up so easily.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his seat and threw the golf ball into the air. It flew up high, almost reaching the ceiling before descending right back into his palm.

"Look" he said, crossing his arms. "Can we be civil from now on, or do you only respond well to threats? Because I can come up with a few more, if you insist."

Richard's stare was about as welcome as a wasp, as it were. But thing with wasps, you could always just swat them away with the flick of the wrist. When it was some creepy dude staring at you from the other side of the desk... not so much.

Although he was trying to avoid meeting his eyes, once or twice, he couldn't resist peering up, eyes tracking the golf ball briefly. His expression was blank, dull and unrevealing.

"Whatever," he mumbled, wrinkling his nose distastefully. "I didn't come in here to be threatened." He paused a moment. "Or made fun'a."

He had to admit though, that chair was becoming highly uncomfortable, and it wasn't just because he was sitting on it awkwardly slumped. He had no purpose here. Well, he had wanted to see what had happened during the cocktail party, but that conversation had settled into the past.

"Whad'ya mean by civil," he asked. "You mean with like cups of tea and stuff?