Private cheapshots

Rovone swept from the far side of the hall’s shadows, to join me. His dour aura may have been the major contributing factor to the hall’s general despondency. “Alright,” he said, eyes narrowing at me. “Glad to see play time’s over. That took 3 entire minutes, thank you very mu--”

Pheo appeared & P-unched his arm. “Good grief, stop being a shit-scolding nanny.”

The blow didn’t appear to register. The forcible contact was only embodied by the annoyed tone he disregarded her with: ~ “Whatever.”

She strolled off down the hallway. “She’s like a handful of cocaine,” I concluded.

He coughed with an ounce laughter. “Something I guess you’ve now experienced firsthand. I assume she strong-armed you.”

“A little,” I admitted.

Rovone snorted. “All but gave you a concussion then.”

“I should’ve expected as much,” I said, dryly, as we began to follow after her. “It's not exactly an enchanting act.”

“Most people are on that same line of thinking,” he affirmed. “The two of us always have our disputes, too. For example, I didn’t think it was necessary for her to tag along with this outfit and shadow me. But she’s the oldest. It’s rare that she doesn’t get her way. Zara and Tweeze are likely going to follow right in our footsteps.”

I knew less about Zara than Phoenix. Hell, she wouldn't even share her true hair color. Her illustrious curls were ever in amorphous stages of Tye dye. I couldn’t remember if she was thirteen, or fourteen, just that she was the youngest, and below five foot, the shortest, too. Zara seemed moody, and kind of avoided me whenever I was over. She was not the eye-catcher like her big sister. Yet.

Tweezer was a sophomore, but we got along great. We were quite compatible, being dreamers and sarcastic knuckleheads; he had an edge on me though, traits I wanted to replicate. The kid was super confident, put a roundhouse kick straight in the face of fear, and managed to keep his cool in situations that should've generated much wrath. I had no idea how the guy found so much Zen. He would go far—if that rib-tickling weasel would check into reality more often. Well, I suppose he stayed at hotels somewhere between reality and fantasy every now and then.

It was quiet for some steps.

I broke the hush, “Anyway, there isn’t a thing going on between us,” then paused. “Just so you know.”

That turned his head. “She doesn’t just hug guys outside the family. But Besides, I’ve seen the way you stare at her sometimes.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I asked, “For starters, friends should hug more often. For finishers, my gaze ain't that obvious.”

He nodded. “Sure, to most you could shade it, but she hasn't made many previous remarks of interest in you. Then maybe she's filtering me out the frame too.” Rovo could be right. But today itself was driving us all wonky. Could it be in her sight I’m valued enough that she’s Apprehensive about reaching out? The dread of screwing it up would be a constant reminder, after scaring off numerous guys. So bad, that later they were even too petrified to bully her about being a regular Tiger.

Then again, perhaps I was a bit vain to think I was any high priority on her list. She was probably only screwing with my head.

I never worried about if she had interests in decidedly male activities. She was more fun to interact like that with. Either way, whether she feared to admit it or if it was just her social need to be thrilled, I wouldn’t blame her after all the crap she'd taken from bored posers who had nothing better to figure out than compare everyone else's identity.

“Well, I’m not into *Drama*,” I suggested, [--Rovo shook his head, biting back a grin--] “But another thing I’ve learned, is that she makes a convincing actor.”

“Ah,” Rovo assented. “That may be the only thing we really know of her.”

“What are you two talking about back there?” called Pheo. “Don’t be strategizing without me.”

Rovone shielded us instantly: “We’re talking about you of course,” he double-bluffed to play it down.

She twisted around toward us. "Don't be sharing my inner thoughts now, boys. My ninja skills do not stop at my combat training."

I snorted. "I'm sure your brother's been watching his back since the day he was born."

"So just think about how much chance you have against my wiles," she boasted. Our trio turned the corner, and the imperative business hit me as I saw the light from the main room. “So is everyone hanging in there?” she asked Rovo.

“Head honcho is a little boozed up.” He chuckled. “Maybe impaired.” And then a forlorn attitude transformed him in an instant. “The other three, their spirits are down. Actually, Sig is fired up about something.” - Heh, maybe he reached Kelly after all, figuratively speaking. - “I can’t say I don’t feel more than a little discouraged myself.”

“I dunno about you two,” I yakked, “but I wanna graduate.”

“No fair," Rovo complained. "Graduation’s nothing to me until next year." But then I saw his cogs whirring. “Wait. Is that because the minute the ceremony is over you two’re gonna break out the white cake and wedding bells?” Smooching noises followed.

Pheo whirled toward him donning the evil eye, face scrunched, and lips peeled back like a barbarian. “I don’t care if you are my brother,” she seethed, fingering the machete. “Trash that wedding proposal unless you want me to lay waste to your manhood.”

Rovone showed his palms in defense, “Chill, take a joke,” he pleaded. “I hope after all this blows over, you two are still the same people: my over-protective sister who threatens others that assault me; and you,” he turned, “My dietary advisor -|| - not my in-Law.”

“Slim chance of marriage,” I publicized. “Particularly if our bones are left here to rot in the wilderness long enough for mounds of bacteria clog the pores where the marrow used to run, and are so rancid that one glimpse of them would contaminate the viewer into a zombie.”

“Pyram!” Pheo thundered. “I honestly don’t need those kind of visuals in my life today.”

Rovone blinked and his jaw hung into a tight side swing. “Rated M for Morbid.”

I had even surprised myself a little with the imagery. But I was enjoying a trite round of spite for the bathroom intrusions. “You think mine was over the top? Sure, it was detailed and unsophisticated, but let me educate you about the magnitude of what it is that you just threatened to remove from a man.”

She fluffed her hair. “I know perfectly. The effectiveness of it is in the dangling male sensitivity, brrro.”

That was an uncontesticle point. “Have you considered anger management, Pheo?”

“How do you honestly suppose to restrain it, dumbass??” she shot back, not even turning to look at me.

I couldn’t tell if that was just sarcasm or an actual threat, as we meandered out from under the delectable awning of Darkness... shuffling toward the gorgeous Arena... now smeared disorienting shades of uncertainty.