The bleak grey walls of a Bullhead were not a comforting sight. Jaune felt a twinge of nausea at every suggestion of turbulence, every shift in altitude or direction. Feeling incredibly cheap for doing so, he activated just the tiniest fraction of his Aura, and felt the motion sickness immediately subside.
"I could have given you some tablets for that if you'd asked before we set off, you know?" teased Torchwick.
"Shut up," grumbled Jaune, embarrassed. "I've never flown before."
"It's the only way to travel," declared Roman loftily.
"Sure, when you're a self proclaimed master criminal you can't get the bus incase it's the one with your wanted poster on it."
"It's a fantastic likeness. You should check it out sometime," said Torchwick.
"Maybe I'll spray-paint some facial hair on for you," muttered Jaune. "But enough about you. What's happening with the villagers? You said that they're all ahead of us in Vale, didn't you? Did everything work out?"
Roman flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes and grinned at Jaune.
"Everyone's settled. Butchers, bakers, and candlestick-makers. Licensed traders, citizens of Vale, and I even found most of them places to live and work! No, no, don't worry. There's no need to tell me how good I am. Believe me, I know," said Torchwick.
"That sounds expensive," said Jaune. "What's the catch?"
Torchwick chuckled, and leaned on his cane.
"Damn, kid, when are you going to start trusting me? I've been good to my word so far, haven't I?" he asked.
Jaune rolled his eyes, and leaned against the bulkhead of Torchwick's personal Bullhead.
"I trust you," he said. "But I also trust you to never do something without making sure you get your cut. What's the deal, here?" Jaune's tone was questioning, but not suspicious. It had been a week since he'd met Torchwick, and he was beginning to get used to the way that his new sort-of friend operated.
"I own all the buildings. Couldn't leave them standing empty, or the authorities would get suspicious. But they've all got a guest room hidden away for when one of my men needs a place to lay low, or a few boxes need somewhere to wait between courier drop-offs."
"Makes sense," said Jaune with a sigh. "I don't like the idea of all these people being sidelined into your little criminal empire, but it's not like we brought the Lien to rent out ten or twenty apartments. A discrete favour now and then is easier than trying to find the cash."
Torchwick doffed his hat at Jaune, and winked.
"There you go. Favours are the real currency of the world. Money is just the grease which keeps the gears of life turning. It's better for me this way, too. If I'd stationed any of my men to occupy the safehouses I'm loaning you, they'd be unavailable to work elsewhere. Your folk can just go about their lives and occasionally answer the door late at night."
Jaune had an inkling that Torchwick also didn't want to leave stolen valuables and terrorists or thugs guarded by his lackeys, who were just as likely to run off with the goods or draw attention with a brawl between a White Fang and human crook. He didn't like it, but it worked out for both of them this way.
"And Sienna?"
Torchwick shrugged.
"The Vale White Fang chapter is under my direction for now, but I'm not the White Fang. If she's signed up with them, that's her business," he said.
"You know she only did it to get those guns out of our faces," said Jaune in frustration. "She doesn't need to join up anymore."
"Don't you think she knows that?"asked Torchwick quietly, rendering Jaune mute. "Kid, the Faunus have a lot of anger bottled up inside them. Sometimes you never know what a person is really capable of until they get a chance to break the mould."
"I -" began Jaune, hesitantly. "I just thought that she'd want to live a normal life. Away from the killing. Start something better, not trade one fight for another."
Torchwick put an arm on Jaune's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.
"It's a rough world out there, y'know. She's seen a side of it that you and I will never understand. If it's any consolation, it really did help. Some of the Faunus are a bit trigger-happy back at camp. Her coming on board made your motley crew friends of the White Fang, not just cargo. It's what got you enough trust that we could work out homes for the refugees you brought along."
Jaune smiled at him weakly.
"You're not so bad for a crook, Roman," he muttered.
Torchwick drew himself back in affront, and spread his arms wide.
"Not so bad?" he exclaimed. "I'm an excellent crook! Who else could smuggle nearly twenty human immigrants into Vale with all the right papers and the support of the White Fang, eh?"
Jaune couldn't help it. He laughed.
"Speaking of papers," he began. Torchwick flicked a small object through the air. Jaune caught it in a deft movement, snatching it by the tip of his fingers.
"That's a Scroll. ID, passport, phone, and personal utility device of oh-so-many functions. Check out your transcripts," said Torchwick.
Jaune pulled it open, and thumbed through various menus, eventually coming across the right one. He scanned the words illuminated on the device and frowned, flicking a corner to change the page a few times.
"I thought you were going to get me papers to enroll me into Beacon?" he asked quizzically. "This is just my life history. Orphaned survivor, wandered the wilderness, saved refugees and brought them to Vale. No mention of your involvement, of course."
"The best lies are founded in truth. I already told you that you're good enough to get in, didn't I?" asked Torchwick.
"Don't you need to attend a combat school, though? I'm not finding any grade transcripts. I won't get into an Academy without graduating from school, even if I can kill an Ursa the size of your ego," quipped Jaune.
The engines of the Bullhead roared suddenly, and both Jaune and Torchwick stumbled at the sudden change in direction. They both made their way up front, to the cockpit. Jaune collapsed into the co-pilot's chair while Torchwick gripped onto the doorframe to steady himself.
"There's an entrance exam. You passed with flying colours. Check the green icon."
"Ah," said Jaune. "Looks like I nearly failed History and Weapon Crafting?" he asked.
"Ever read a history book or made a weapon?" asked Torchwick, rolling his eyes.
"I could catch up on studying while I'm there. What If those scores mean I don't make the cut?" asked Jaune worriedly. Torchwick cuffed him on the back of the head chidingly. "Hey!" cried Jaune. Torchwick smirked.
"What did I say just five minutes ago about the best lies having truth in them? Don't get ahead of yourself. Besides, do you really think, when it comes down to it, that a Hunter Academy is going to care about whose grandaddy killed whose grandaddy more than how you handle yourself in a fight?"
"Next time I won't have a White Fang fire-team backing me up," said Jaune.
"Only a phone call away, kiddo," said Torchwick.
Jaune gaped.
"Seriously?" he asked.
"I meant it when I said I'd watch your back if you watch mine. Don't call a squad in unless it's life or death, though. Consorting with terrorists is probably grounds for extra homework, and I'm not convinced you can read or write properly," joked Torchwick.
"That's...actually true," admitted Jaune. Not much call for writing essays in the wilderness. I guess I'm a bit rusty."
"So you want to admit that I chose the right History grade for you, then?"
Jaune glared at Torchwick.
"Why would I want to tell you that you're always right when you're constantly doing it yourself?"
"Because I'm always right," said Torchwick, a smile dancing about his lips.
Jaune didn't reply.
"Yeah, thought so," said Torchwick smugly. "But seriously, don't worry. You'll be put in a team of four after your initiation test, based on how well you work together. It's a basic survival exercise in a forest full of Grimm."
"You seem to know an awful lot about it," commented Jaune.
Torchwick shrugged.
"I have a bet going with my employer that you'll make leader of your team, so I had to do a bit of espionage work for the sake of my bank balance."
"Any tips?" asked Jaune.
"First person you encounter in the test is your partner. You'll be matched with another pair based on how you complete the task you're assigned. I couldn't get the details. Ozpin shakes it up every year so nobody can tattle and let the new students cheat."
"Except for us?"
"I'm not a big fan of following the rules, if you hadn't noticed," said Torchwick. "It's up to you who you go for as a partner. Grab the first you see and finish the test quickly, or scope out the others and find someone tough."
"Any real advice?" asked Jaune sarcastically.
The pilot of the Bullhead, who'd previously been silent, snickered at his comment. Torchwick thumped him on the head and sighed.
"And he was doing so well as a silent pawn," he moaned. "I hate it when my minions get uppity."
"Glad I'm not a minion," said Jaune dryly, but with the sneaking suspicion that he was being groomed to become one.
"Of course not! I'll prove it to you - make the leader position, and I'll split the winnings."
"Sounds good to me," said Jaune. "But you still haven't given me any real advice."
"Avoid the younger girl in a red hood. Carries a ridiculous scythe for a weapon. Completely obnoxious. Strong in a fight, but a pain in the ass. The heir to the Schnee dust company is in your group. Buddy up to her and you could make some profitable connections for us."
"This all sounds like advice for Roman Torchwick, not for me," muttered Jaune.
"You know what?" said Torchwick rhetorically. "You don't want to listen to my advice. It's fine. I get it. But here are your three choices: pick a weaker team so you get the top spot. Pick a strong team so you'll perform better later on, but might have to play subordinate. Or just let the chips fall where they may."
"I'm thinking I'll just do a damn good job instead of gaming the system, and earn the top spot that way," said Jaune, poking Torchwick in the forehead.
"Have it your way, weirdo," whined Torchwick. "Pilot, open the bulkhead doors!"
The doors opened with a creak of grating metal. Wind rushed in with deafening force, pushing Jaune out of his chair. Torchwick grinned.
"This is practice for the first part of your initiation. Develop a landing strategy!" he shouted over the wind.
"What?" exclaimed Jaune, only to be interrupted by Torchwick's boot landing square in his chest, and sending him flying out the open door.
Air rushed upwards around Jaune, who frantically tried to get his bearings. They had reached Vale, and it was rapidly approaching. He tried to angle his descent so that he'd land in the harbour, but as the ground grew closer, he realised that he was way too far inland to aim for the water and groaned.
He spared a moment to look at the sheath of Crocea Mors. The golden sigils of his Beowulf and Ursa still shone there, embossed in the metal.
"I wish I had a Nevermore," he complained bitterly, before activating his Aura at full strength.
The ground zoomed up at him rapidly. He pulled out his shield, and angled his body so that it would bear the brunt of the impact. Even with his Aura, he suspected he was looking at a broken arm, but then there was suddenly no more time to contemplate his situation. The ground was far too close for him to think up a plan - but then he saw it and grinned. Just below him was a busy main road, but, more importantly, a double-decker bus emblazoned with advertising posters was approaching his point of impact. He angled himself just so, and struck it in the perfect position.
With a screech of tearing metal, he landed in the middle of the road, catching a glancing blow on the edge of his target bus. His shield caught in the metal frame of the vehicle, tearing a deep gouge down the side of it, but, thankfully, slowing his descent. Sparks shot out from the tear in the side of the bus, but at least by catching the edge instead of plowing through the roof, he'd managed to avoid squashing any hapless commuters.
At last he hit the ground, his arm aching, but grinning widely. Adrenaline and elation flooded his body as he looked at the destruction he had wrought: a savage tear through the smirking visage of Torchwick's mugshot. Given the precarious angle of his descent, he'd actually managed to decapitate the smug bastard on his wanted poster.
Jaune looked up to where the Bullhead hovered overhead, and waved cheerily at Torchwick's distant figure. The aircraft was too high up for him to make out Torchwick's return gesture, but he could see that it involved one hand, and could guess that it involved one finger.
He grinned. Petty vandalism was fun, especially when it involved your friends.
And then the sirens started.
On reflection, Jaune decided that it was significantly easier to give cops the slip than it was a pack of rampaging Grimm. He didn't much fancy ending his illustrious career as a Hunter before even trying out his shiny new fake ID, though, so he put his full effort into running around the corner and hiding on a second-floor fire escape.
He could hear the occupants bustling about inside, so he pressed himself flat against the wall in order to not be seen through the window.
It was exactly then, as he was being still and silent as he could possibly be, than his Scroll began to give off an irritating jangle. He flipped it open to see the grinning face of the only person who could possible have his contact information.
"Alright, so you cut my head clean off just after I'd told you how much I liked those posters, but I'll give you a free pass on this one because I just love watching the ants scurry around the chaos in your wake," chirruped Torchwick from the small screen.
Jaune growled and unsheathed his weapon, placing the tip of Crocea Mors between Roman's eyes.
"If you die in a video transmission, do you die in real life?" he asked sardonically.
"Put your shiny phallic metaphor away, you grumpy brat. I can't see the look on your face. It's hilarious," said Torchwick.
Jaune put the sword away. Not because Torchwick had said so, but because holding a weapon in public when hiding from the police was definitely not the smartest move.
"I'll give you points for style, though. That really was your practice run. The Beacon initiation test begins with an air-drop into a forest infested with Grimm. One last tip before you head to the airship. It leaves in twenty minutes. Don't be late."
"That's a little hard when the streets are swarming with cops looking for me," snapped Jaune.
"No they're not," chided Torchwick. "They're looking for the body of a man who fell out of the sky. Slip a few streets away from where you landed to be safe, then you're free as a bird. One without wings. A penguin, or something. But free!"
"You kicked me out of an airborne Bullhead!" complained Jaune.
"Yeah, kid, I know. I was there. And then you decapitated me. We're even. If anything, you owe me for giving you the warning about your test. Stop your bitching and run off before you miss the flight," said Torchwick. "I'm sending the coordinates to your Scroll now."
Jaune ended the transmission by closing his Scroll and ignoring the incoming map transmission. Torchwick was an ass, but he couldn't help himself from smiling. But still, even if Jaune's flying abilities weren't that great, he at least knew how to read road signs, so he set off away from the main road at a fast walk.
Five minutes later he was completely lost, and very much aware that he'd not been to Vale in seven years. But he wasn't going to take Torchwick's directions for help, so he slipped into a nearby store to ask for directions.
Without even looking at the sign, he pushed the door open and entered. A large man with thick black sideburns looked up at him and smiled.
"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun!" greeted the shopkeeper cheerfully.
"Uh, hi," replied Jaune awkwardly. "I'm a new student at Beacon, but it's my first time in Vale. Could you give me directions to the airfield?"
"Sure thing," replied Tukson. "End of the street, left twice, and just keep going on until you hit Vytal Square. There are signposts from there. Of course, I've got some tourists maps for only 3 Lien if you'd like some reference material as well," he said, jokingly.
"No, that's alright," said Jaune, a little sheepishly. He felt bad for asking for help but not buying anything, but he was in a rush, and felt like he'd have plenty of time to explore Vale on his own. He turned to leave, but something by the door caught his eye. "Actually," he began, trailing off.
Tukson raised an eyebrow.
"See something you fancy?"
"How much for these?" Jaune asked, pointing to a stack of X-Ray and Jay comic books. Tukson let out a hearty laugh.
"They're five Lien each, but tell you what, we've got in a collection of volumes one through ten, all in one hardback edition. Thirty Lien for that one, or seventy for the collector's edition with accompanying art book and collectibles."
Jaune rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.
"Ah, I shouldn't spend too much money on my first day in Vale," he said. Subconsciously, he reminded himself that his funds were limited to the handful of Lien he'd won from Torchwick and some White Fang grunt in a game of poker. Torchwick had been using him to cheat, and split the difference after the game had ended. Unless he made the leader spot on his time and got another set of winnings from Torchwick's shady bets, this money had to last him at least a little while.
"Suit yourself. Standard edition it is. No, leave that one on the shelf. I've got some in the back still in their wrapping. No sticky fingerprints from kids who treat this place like a library, right?" Tukson barked a laugh, and disappeared into the back of the store.
Jaune checked the time on his Scroll nervously. Shit. Ten minutes to go.
"Here you go," declaimed Tukson a minute or two later. "I've thrown in the map for free, 'cause I can't stand that lost puppy look on your face. Better run if you want to make the ship!"
"Thanks!" shouted Jaune, dropping the correct handful of bills on the countertop and dashing out the door with his new purchases.
Thanks to Tukson's generosity and only a dozen consultations of the map, Jaune made it to the airship just in time. He charged onto the ramp at breakneck speed, and slammed full-tilt into the back of one of his new classmates.
He fell over, landing on his backside with a muffled groan.
"Oh goodness, are you okay?" exclaimed the girl he'd just plowed into. Jaune looked up to meet a pair of startling green eyes - and red hair. He froze in panic for a moment, remembering Torchwick's warning. Then he looked her up and down, seeing no sign of a hood, and let out a sigh of relief.
The girl reached out a hand to help him up.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"I'm so sorry," she said. Jaune gave her a startled expression.
"What for? I'm the one who ran into you. Although usually when I run into people, they're the ones who fall over," he added under his breath."
"I should have moved out of your way," she said.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Jaune. "I was the one who wasn't paying attention. So I'm the one who gets to say sorry."
"Alright," she said, smiling. "Go on then."
"Um. Sorry I didn't notice you? I'd apologise for hurting you, but I'm guessing I'm the only one with any bruises here," Jane said, smiling awkwardly in an attempt to ease the tension - which only he was feeling.
"It's not a big deal," she said. "I was expecting somebody would try to test my strength sooner or later. Although I'd hoped to make it to school before being ambushed," she said, letting out a mournful sigh.
"Wait, what?" asked Jaune. "Why would somebody want to ambush you?"
"To see if they could beat the invincible girl, Pyrrha Nikos, of course," she said bitterly.
Jaune frowned.
"I'm guessing that makes you Pyrrha, then?" he asked.
Pyrrha gave him a suspicious look.
"You don't know who I am?"
"Should I?" he shot back.
"I - well, I don't think I've met anyone who doesn't," she said, suddenly looking as awkward as Jaune felt. "You really just ran into me because you were clumsy and in a hurry?" she demanded, suddenly fierce.
"Why else would I ram into somebody I'd just met?" asked Jaune, bewildered.
"Oh," she said, a thoughtful expression blossoming on her face. "That's...interesting." She beamed at him. "It was nice to meet you!"
"I'm Jaune," he said, as Pyrrha turned to leave.
"And I'm Pyrrha," she replied. "But I already told you that. Check a cereal box if you forget!" she called over her shoulder, walking away.
Jaune stared after her. That was beyond peculiar. And he had no idea what she had to do with cereal.
The twinge in his gut warned him of the airship's engines starting up even before he heard them. Now that he knew what to expect, he activated the subtle level of Aura he'd used on the Bullhead earlier, and flopped into a chair in the middle of the airship.
A girl with black hair decorated with a bow sat next to him, reading. She gave a hiss of annoyance as he took the chair next to her, obviously expecting her book to be interrupted by this unwelcome intruder. Jaune felt a touch guilty at not paying more attention to where he'd chosen to sit, as there were plenty of these plush cream armchairs in the centre of the ship.
She flashed him an irritated look, furthering his guilt, but piquing his interest. Her eyes were yellow, slitted like a cat's. Huh. A Faunus. He doubted he'd have recognised the sign if he hadn't just spent a week with the White Fang. He'd made a game of trying to spot the manifestations of their animal traits. Some of them were as obvious as tails and horns, while others could pass for human without a strip-search. None of the Faunus whose traits he couldn't figure out had volunteered for that, though.
Jaune pointedly looked away from her. He had no intention of making a scene when she obviously wanted to be left alone with her book. As he turned his head he caught Pyrrha glancing furtively in his direction. He groaned. Minutes aboard the airship, and he'd probably already pissed off two of his future classmates. This was not a good beginning.
He wished that he could bury his head in a book like the girl beside him, but the idea of pulling out a comic book next to a pretty girl reading a novel with whole sentences and no pictures reminded him of his childish reading ability. Torchwick was right. That was going to make homework a pain.
Instead, he turned his attention to the screen overhead, blazing news from a gigantic television.
He watched a reporter denounce Torchwick as scum, and struggled to suppress a smile, especially when he almost got a cameo himself.
"And perhaps it's not just the police force who tire of notorious criminal Roman Torchwick's incessant Dust robberies. A vigilante fell from the sky in an unexpected attack on one of the many posters calling for Torchwick's arrest. Diving from several hundred feet, the unknown person is presumed to be a Hunter given their ability to survive such an attack, severing Torchwick's posted visage in half. Is this poster's decapitation intended as a threat from a Hunter tired of the rising price of Dust interfering in their abilities to fight Grimm? Was it born of a more personal offence? Will it lead to a similar act against Torchwick himself? This reporter, and the police force of Vale, urge this lone aggressor to come forward and share any information they have about this dangerous criminal. Any information could help the authorities apprehend this menace to our city."
Jaune snorted, and took a picture of the shattered image of Torchwick on the bus, intending to send it to him later.
After a moment of fiddling with his Scroll, which was still unfamiliar to him, he managed to get the image send across. He grinned
His good mood suddenly dropped as the reporter moved onto a new story about the White Fang. It wasn't news so much as a reminder of the fact that they existed, but Jaune slumped his head into his hands and moaned with regret.
"Damn it, Sienna. Why did you have to go and join them?" he whispered under his breath,
The snap of a book closing abruptly snapped him out of his self-indulgent regret.
"You know someone who joined the White Fang?" asked the girl next to him sharply, a dangerous expression on her face.
"Damn Faunus hearing," Jaune grumbled. The girl's expression immediately dovetailed into panic.
"What? I'm not - what are you trying to say?" she demanded hotly.
"Oh, calm down. I have nothing against Faunus," Jaune said hastily. "I just don't like that I lost a friend to the White Fang. Or the reasons why."
"Were her reasons not good enough for your human sensibilities?" demanded the girl. Jaune gave her an odd look. Her words were aggressive, but there was an unusual note of irony, not anger in her voice. He supposed that most Faunus didn't see eye to eye with the White Fang either, regardless of what the organisation was fighting for.
"She only joined up to help me. And some friends. We stumbled into a White Fang hideout and had more guns pointing at us than you'd see in a bad action movie. She convinced them that she wanted to join up, and we could be trusted not to spill their secrets," Jaune said bitterly.
"The White Fang would never trust a human."
Jaune rolled his eyes, thinking back to Torchwick.
"You'd be surprised what people will do when their back's against the wall," he said.
"No I wouldn't," murmured Blake forlornly. She was silent for a moment then turned a fierce glare on Jaune. Her yellow eyes almost seemed to glow with determination. "Don't tell anyone what I am," she pleaded. The plea had an undertone of "or else" to it. Jaune hadn't planned on shouting it from the rooftops when she was so blatantly trying to hide, but her strong reaction drove him to poke a little deeper.
"Why not?" he asked, only to raise his hands in protest as she tightened hers into white-knuckled fists. "Whoa, there. I'm not going to tell someone else's secrets. But why are you hiding who you are?"
The girl sighed, and looked at her hands, clenched in her lap over her fallen book.
"Because I don't want people to see a Faunus. I want them to see Blake," she said wistfully.
"You look like both to me, Blake," said Jaune quietly. "But I'll keep your secret."
"Thank you," she said, letting out a sigh of relief. Her fists unclenched, and Jaune could see tension leave her whole body. The pressure of the moment passed, and then Blake suddenly smirked. "By the way, why is Pyrrha Nikos staring at you?"
Jaune looked over in the direction Blake was pointing. So she was. The redhead with cereal issues looked away quickly, and Jaune shrugged. Had he pissed the resident celebrity off that much by not recognising her, or was it just his clumsiness that had drawn her ire?
"I accidentally ran into her earlier. Does everybody know who she is?"
"Of course," replied Blake. "I grew up outside the kingdoms and even I heard about her tournament matches. They call her the Invincible Girl."
"Huh," said Jaune eloquently. "I grew up outside the kingdoms too. Since I was ten, anyway."
Blake gave him a curious look.
"Not many people would choose to leave the kingdoms. I was born outside them, so I didn't have much choice, but I can't imagine many people willingly moving out."
Jaune laughed bitterly.
"My parents were hunters. They took me and two of my sisters with them on a routine assignment to protect a village from Beowulf attacks."
Blake remained silent, staring at Jaune assessingly.
He met her gaze and rolled her eyes. It was obvious what she wanted to ask, but also that she wasn't going to. Jaune actually appreciated the gesture. Too many people had a habit of demanding answers for how and why his life had unfolded the way it did, and it wasn't his favourite topic.
"Yeah, you guessed right. I was the only one to get away. Seven years in the wilderness made for a hell of a combat school," he said, skimming over most of the details. He figured his new Faunus friend had guessed all the important points. Well, except for Torchwick and the necromantic Grimm semblance, but he felt like keeping those under wraps for now.
"I thought I'd be the only one here who didn't come from a combat school," Blake mused.
Inwardly, Jaune was surprised that she didn't question him more about his spending seven years wandering outside the kingdoms, but he was thankful. He got the feeling that she was a lot like him in that she wouldn't appreciate somebody prying into her past, so he didn't ask about her training despite his curiosity.
"Looks like we're there," said Jaune," changing the subject.
Blake stood silently, walking over to the massive windows. Jaune joined her.
"So this is Beacon," he marvelled.
"Our new home for three years," Blake added.
"Or until they learn about our affiliation with the White Fang," Jaune joked. Blake immediately narrowed her eyes in anger.
And that suggested something Jaune hadn't even considered. Was she one of them, he wondered? He didn't dare ask. Maybe she opposed them and resented the idea of being involved with them. This fledgling camaraderie seemed liked he might have actually made his first friend at Beacon, and he didn't want to risk that on accusing her of belonging to a terrorist group. It's not like his circle of acquaintances were squeaky clean either, he thought, reminiscing about the past week with Torchwick, who he actually kind of liked, when he wasn't pushing him out of a Bullhead. Blake glared for a moment longer, but then her expression softened.
"Don't even joke about that. Or what I am. If the wrong person hears, they might not find it as funny as you do," she murmured warningly.
"Why admit what you are to me if it's a secret?" wondered Jaune aloud.
Blake cuffed him on the back of the head.
"Because I can already tell you're an idiot who jokes about these things. Now you know not to joke about it, so there's no risk of anybody hearing you. I'll bite off your fingers if I hear you even kidding about me hiding kitty ears under this bow," she said, deathly serious.
Jaune met her eyes for as long as he could without blinking, and then looked away, slightly concerned about how sincere her threat had sounded. And then he burst out laughing. Kitty ears! In such a threatening voice, too. He wondered if she actually had cat ears, or it was just an example of him joking around. He resolved to find out as soon as he got the chance. Torchwick would be proud of him, planning to get a girl alone and rip off her clothing, never mind the fine detail.
"Okay, okay," he protested. "My lips are sealed. School hasn't even started yet and I've already made an enemy of you and Pyrrha Nikos."
"I'm not your enemy if you keep your mouth shut," said Blake. She smirked, and patted Jaune on the head. "If we gagged you we might even be friends."
"A gag and one enemy is bad enough," Jaune grumbled.
"You really are an idiot," said Blake.
"What? Why?" demanded Jaune.
"I'm the one that Pyrrha Nikos is glaring at, not you," she replied.
"That doesn't make any sense! I'm the one who ran into her and insulted her by not recognising her!" Jaune exclaimed. "I don't know why she'd be glaring at you."
"You're right, it doesn't make any sense," said Blake, rolling her eyes. "But at least I know why."
"Tell me?" pleaded Jaune.
"Not a chance," said Blake, smiling evilly. "But I'll give you a hint - it's all your fault."
