Haha, your reviews made me laugh. I agree with you guys that Nat is scary behind a wheel (Don't worry Bart-chan, it 'probably' won't happen again)- i can relate too peckforever, actually i think my drivings even worse than his, cuz im always singing and dancing when i drive. It's quite scary actually ^^; I'm glad to hear people actually like Brandon - im always so scared when i add an OC, some people get scary about their fandoms 0_o Wow, SakuNaru-Chan i can't believe you picked up on that. I actually almost made Brandon gay as a joke but i figured people would get pissed if he started flirting with Nat (cuz he flirts with EVERYONE) and played for that team so i made 'em straight, glad to know someone would've supported them if i went with a crazy unrequited love. Sadly this is a Nat/Bart fic so no lovin for Brandon. Maybe some other time, I might give him Penny but that would probably be out of pity and no one likes pity love so... probably not ^^;

Oh, last thing, wildkurofang since you loved the previous cliffie so much i decided to make another one, just for you. Enjoy 3

Bartimaeus

I stepped away from the ship and the grungy passengers as soon as we docked. After spending a week on that stupid vessel with all those moronic human I swear I almost killed myself. (Not that I had the choice of flying myself. That stupid scrying dijin had forgotten to tell me where Nathaniel was – if I hadn't managed to worm a few answers out of one of Britain's dock masters using the brief description of the boat I'd seen the boy on I probably would have never found out where he'd gone. Lucky for me, Nathaniel seemed to have made an impression on the dock master and, luckier still, a boat had been leaving to the exact same town he'd gone later that night.)

I took a look around the small, cobblestone town square. I couldn't imagine that pompous magician hiding away in such a quaint town.

I was busy checking out the scenery when I got the distinct impression someone was watching me (horrible feeling, like bugs running up and down the spine – not that I had a spine, but you get the idea). My head jerked up and I found myself staring into a pair of very familiar blue eyes. They were cold, calculating and, oddly, if I'm not mistaken, a hint of fear flitted through them. Nathaniel. (That's right you damn child, you better fear the almighty Bartimaeus!)

I know this is probably the part where I should have gone running across the square and leapt in to his arms or something stupid like that. I know this is probably the part where I'm supposed to confess my undying love or something, what with Nathaniel (I suppose) saving my life out of some good will and me having thought of him every single day since his 'death' (Which was now two hundred forty two days prior). But, I'm sorry, that's just not my style.

I'd like to say I had some epitome that he was the one for me suddenly, and that I'd throw myself off a bridge just for him (Actually, I would probably do that since it wouldn't really do anything to me. Maybe a better analogy would be to sit in silver or iron? But that's also a terrible idea – worse really, because it would mean pain. Voluntarily pain. For Nathaniel.)As much as I do love theatrics, I just didn't feel it. I really had no idea what this boy was – is – to me, and frankly I don't really want to know. At least not now, perhaps later when I have more time to think. Right now I have something much more pressing to attend, like greeting him for one.

"YOU!" I bellowed, my voice easily carrying across the square, "You no good, atrocious, thick headed, vile little CHILD!" Classy, I know. And wait, there's more. "WHY in the name of Nouda aren't you dead! Maimed at the very least!"

I may have neglected to say that at this point, I'd stormed across the square and pinned him against the far end cement wall he'd been hiding against. (More like cowering. Like I wouldn't have spotted him there. Childish.)

Nathaniel pressed himself as far into the wall as possible, like it would swallow him up and save him from me. He swallowed thickly, "I know you're probably confused as to how I'm still alive…"

"Yer darn right I am! Shouldn't you be rolling in your grave? Pushing up daisies?"

"Well if you'll give me a moment to-"

"Sleeping the eternal sleep? Game over?"

"-explain I can-"

"Oh, explain? Explain. Explain why you're not worm meal? Not waltzing down some long dark tunnel?"

"Yes, if you'll only-"

"Well I'd love to hear it. We'll see if you can even remotely come up with an excuse worth hearing, because I doubt-"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP?" I blinked; the boy had gone positively red in the face to be heard over me. I hadn't realized I was shouting – screaming really. "I cannot believe I forgot how annoying you dijin are."

"Wh- annoying!" I spluttered, anger firing up, "Of all the – that's the first thing you have for me, eh? No 'how are you' or pleasantries? Bam! Insults off the bat? Two can play at that, boy, I-"

"Don't you start that again." He growled.

I almost laughed in his face. "Excuse me, was that an order? Are you actually so delusional that you think-"

"Not an order, no, a suggestion." He growled, "If you ever want my 'excuse' you'd better shut your gob."

I opened my mouth to come up with some witty retort (of which I have an endless supply), shut it, and nodded. (Again, please note I was only quiet because I was curious – not that I lacked a witty comment. I mean come on, the kid was practically his own stand-up routine in looks alone, how could I not have something to fire off?)

"Good." He sighed, running a hand through his hair (for once I actually approved. The damn hair was no longer a wild mane nor that disgusting military crop. Just a regular boy's cut, a little shaggy, but good – at least as good as the relationship between Natty and his hair would ever get). I recognized that pompous preening habit of his – still such a magician. "Look, Bartimaeus, this isn't really a good place to talk. We can go back to my apartment, then-"

"Why? Afraid our little squabble will ruin your reputation with the locals, eh?" I jeered. (At this point probably half the square was staring at us. Hey, screaming just seems to attract attention. Can't imagine why.)

He narrowed his eyes and fixed me with a look, "I'm not as concerned about my reputation as you may think. Not anymore anyway."

"Really now?" (I didn't believe this for a second).

"Really. I'm only asking because you're starting to smoke. You want to barbecue me, fine, but don't take half the square with us."

He had me there. I hadn't really noticed, but Ptolemy's form had started to blur slightly and smoke was just about pouring out his ears. I'd question the kid's sanity to actually ask to be alone with me at such a time, but I was far too angry to really care how suicidal he'd gotten in the past few months. (If I had to guess I'd say very. His suicidal impulses seemed to improve with age, like fine wine, or so I'm told. I've never had the stuff as I'm sure I told you human garbage doesn't really agree with me.)((I was soon about to find the irony behind that past footnote – it's weird how somethings works out…))

"Lead the way." I ground out.

"You have to let me out first." Nat rolled his eyes as if this were obvious. Right. I'd forgotten I had a hand on both sides of his head (and two well sized dents in the wall to match) and had him trapped. With a grunt, I pulled back, causing a dusting of cement to pour from the wall. Nathaniel sighed, "You realize I have to pay for that?"

"Good. I was beginning to think I let you off easy." I gave him my best smile and punched a third hole in the wall, this one about twice as big as the two already there (which I must say were already fairly good sized). Nathaniel flinched and watched me with a wary eye for a moment, my smile only grew. Finally, with a moan of despair he led me off to his apartment (probably seeing no way out of it – there was no way the boy could escape me. Especially not on those scrawny little chicken legs of his. My god you think he'd at least try to bulk up? Ya see what I mean? Natty gave me so much material to work with I wasn't even sure if I should tease him or just feel plain sorry for him.)

Nathaniel's apartment was… interesting to say the least.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I expected the kid to live in a palace (It's America, need I say more?) but I would at least have thought it would be a, well, a nice apartment. Not the run down sham he led me to. I hadn't expected it to be the exact building I'd slammed him into (although it does explain why he was there) and the second he started waltzing up the squeaking, rotting staircase I knew I'd walked into a dream – or nightmare. Either way it was horrible and I wanted to wake up. (This had nothing to do with the room- I'd seen plenty worse- but the apocalyptic over tones the room gave off. Like the fact that Nathaniel was living there for one and that his landowner seemed to actually – wait for it because this is where is gets really strange – like him. The wiry old man had totted out when he saw Nathaniel, asking if he was ok, something about hearing screaming and then attempting to talk with the boy about his door or something equally stupid. As if he thought Nathaniel was wonderful company. Let me say that again to stress the sheer insanity of it; Nathaniel was living in a rundown apartment and was friends with the landowner. Now do you see why I wished I could wake up? Not that I were actually dreaming, just to clear it up for you particularly dim readers. It only felt like a dream. At least I think so – dijins can't really dream so I may be completely off with my simile).

The room wasn't as bad as it could be as far as rundown apartments go, I just couldn't get over the fact that this was Nathaniel's home. I'd expected the stuck up Brit to cart his riches over here and make the locals build him another posh townhouse like his previous residence. This? Well, this was barely better than that Prague hotel (Think way back, Golem incident). And by barely I mean the only positives being no cemetery view (actually it had a good view of the square and harbor) and that there was nothing molding anywhere (as far as I could tell that is).

At least Natty still seemed to be a germaphobe, which restored a little normalcy, the place was positively spotless – ah, wait, his bedroom door was cracked and through it I could see he hadn't made his bed. Although I guess that would be normal – he is a teenage boy after all.

As I looked about the tiny room trying to figure out where to sit (the living room and kitchen conjoined, the first room you entered into, and there was only enough space to squeeze either a table and chair or sofa in addition to the appliances and Nathaniel had opted for a rather pitiful cream sofa. I briefly wonder if he ate standing up then or just sat on the kitchen's counters – I couldn't imagine either) before I gave up and just flopped down on the sofa.

"So… nice place you got…" I commented, having the pleasure of seeing Nathaniel grimace.

"Don't. I'm still trying to get used to it and I doubt the pitiful amount of appreciation I have for it can withstand your jibes." He muttered and, surprising me, like an actual host, asked, "Want anything?" He gestured towards the fridge before he got two cups from the cupboard (I have no idea what kind of wood it was but I did notice one door was falling ever so slightly off its peg. While I'm on the subject of doors and hinges, was it just me or was his front door sitting in the hall? I kid you not, his door, his front door, was lying forlornly in the hallway. Did he seriously take it off or was this place so messed up that it actually fell off? Do I even want to know the other alternatives?).

Nathanial seemed to remember something and looked at me with a frown, waking me from my thoughts (sort of- I was still lost as to how or why someone would forgo a front door) "Oh, wait, you don't really eat or drink, do you?"

"Drink." I said dismissively, (How stupid could someone be? Why leave off the door? Does he realize how many things could go terribly wrong just because of the absence of that flimsy little barrier? I knew too well what happened without proper cover). "Water."

He looked genuinely surprised, I was fairly surprised myself (Not at the way I'd demanded the water, of course, being the great dijin I am and no longer being forced to serve it's a wonder I didn't have legions of human slaves at this point. Human slaves that I would use to fix that damn door. Is it just me? Or did I just see something in the hallway? God, now I'm getting paranoid. Put the damn door back on it's hinges!) – when did I start drinking water? (Again, irony). But as he brought me a small glass filled with the stuff (cracked, I might add – the cup that is, I don't see how you can crack water, its water) I found I was actually very thirsty and had another two glasses before he got himself one and sat on the counter opposite my couch. (Mystery solved).

He watched in fascination as I finished my third glass and wordlessly handed me his, which I took, before he asked, furrowing his eyebrows, "Don't get me wrong, I know some spirits eat people if they please, but doesn't it unsettle your stomach or something? I seem to remember you laughing at my need to eat and drink at – well, at almost every damn meal I had in your presence. Far too many I might add."

"Well then you shouldn't have eaten in front of me. Like I need to see you shovel garbage down your throat." I wrinkled my nose, "Disgusting."

He scoffed, "And you acting like you'd just wandered out of the Sahara wasn't? You just downed three – four" he corrected with a glance at my hands currently fiddling with the empty cup, "cups faster than I could go through one."

I shrugged, "I was thirsty." (I blame exhausting thoughts about certain moronic individuals who leave off their doors, get attacked by flying monkeys and are carried off never to be seen again – this isn't just me being witty by the way, I've seen it happen).

"Since when are you thirsty?" He asked as he got up and refilled the glasses. With a glance at the fridge and a dubious glance my way he sighed and said, "Don't tell me you're hungry too."

"Well, now that you mention it…" I muttered, almost sheepishly. I hadn't actually noticed, Kitty always brought me snacks and drinks whenever I visited, said it helped her deal with the whole me not being human idea, but I never touched them – or at least, I thought I didn't. I always figured the empty plates and cups were her doing, her need not to waste food and drink but, could it possibly have been me? Why hadn't I gotten sick then? I did go to the Other Place often enough that it wouldn't really harm me, but I always felt a bit queasy after consuming anything in this world. At least, last I could remember.

And yet here I found myself leaning on the counter finishing a peanut butter sandwich, like some half starved coyote and demanding seconds all the while Nathaniel stared at me in silence like I'd grown a second head, wordlessly handing me the food and drink until I was sated. (To be fair, if I somehow had taken up the habit of eating, that would mean I'd gone a whole week without anything – so I guess that could explain my ravenous nature?).

"Wow." Nathaniel seemed at utter loss for words as he cleared away dishes, "Nothing else, I assume? Unless you want me to go roast you a pig or kill a cow or something?"

"Maybe later," I smirked, feeling quiet pleased now that I felt full. Up until I realized how weird that was. I groaned, "Oh great, another wonderful little quirk I have you to thank for."

"Me!" Natty tossed the dishes in the sink and spun around, placing his hands on the tiny counter. "And I asked you to clean out my icebox, did I?"

"Oh please, I didn't eat that much." I rolled my eyes. Honestly, after all I did for the guy he could give me one or two lousy sandwiches.

Nathaniel placed two empty peanut butter jars and his empty bread box on the counter.

"Oh." I said (I still say I earned all those sandwiches).

"Yeah, oh. When did you turn into such a pig?"

I stuck my pinky in my mouth to unstick a gob of peanut butter, "Pig? I'd say connoisseur and probably a bit after your little disappearing act. Which," I reminded him, "You still have yet to give me an explanation for."

"Wait…" His eyebrow furrowed, "You mean like… after you were, you know, um…"

"Inside you? Yup."

"Don't say it like that." He snapped, "It sounds incredibly vulgar."

"Still true though." I smirked, the boy had turned redder than crimson. I really did miss riling him up. (I filled away the knowledge that he disliked vulgar wordplay. I knew enough to have my own mother rolling in her grave. Not that I have a mom – metaphors and all that).

Attempting to salvage the conversation (and his pride) he pressed, "So you're saying you – what? You have to eat now because of me?"

"No. I'd say I like to eat because of you, now that I think about it." I thought back to all the places I traveled in my past few months of freedom – not one place where I hadn't sampled the local cuisine. (And by local cuisine I mean the food as well as the people – when in Rome and all that jazz).

"Odd. I haven't felt any different…" Of course Natty was immediately thinking how this affected him. He stared at his hand (bandaged for some reason) for a moment and frowned.

"Of course not – anything I gave you would actually be useful. Unlike eating and feeling. Horrible nuisances." (Now that I was on the subject I wondered what other lingering effects our teamwork had. I wasn't sure I could take much more.)

"Wait, feeling? Feeling what? Emotions? Like what?"

"Now that's just insulting. I did have emotions before you know. They're just… a little more intensified." (Boy was that the understatement of the century. The way I'd been acting these past few months, the past few days in particular – I felt like a pregnant woman who just injected herself full of hormones.)

"Oh you know what I mean. Usually your emotions are limited to what you please, I don't recall you ever breaking down and sobbing."

"Well I feel like it when I look at you." I shot back with a grin. "Seriously Nat, it's called a makeover – get one."

"Why you– !"

"I seriously don't understand you humans," I went on, "A few months of feeling and I'm about ready to kill myself…" I looked at Nat then and added, "Or someone."

I had the pleasure of watching him sweat and try to hold back a shiver, so I decided to toy with him even more; the prat deserved it after all. "I haven't felt too much in that way of you, ya know. Mainly regret that I let Nouda and that building kill you. I wanted to do that."

It was just another jibe, one I'd given him a hundred times, but Natty suddenly frowned (he was still trying to control a slight tremor so it looked particularly unpleasant).

"You still can." He muttered. "I'm not going to kid myself and pretend this is just a social visit. I know I no longer have any protection from you or whatever actions you choose to take." I stared at him for a minute, shocked (did he really think I came all this way just to kill him? Well I did partially come for that reason, but kill is such a loose term, it's not like I was thinking to kill him dead… Well. Not much anyway) but he continued, "It was only luck I survived anyway, I mean, why else did you hunt me down? Didn't you say you'd get your revenge on me? Don't you hate me for everything I've done?"

"Well I…" I particularly hated this question because it was the exact one I'd been trying to answer for two hundred forty two days. Why didn't I hate him? Why was it that now I was in front of him, the idea of taking his life seemed suddenly horrible.

"I know it'd be easy for you. It's not like I could put up much resistance…" He continued and looked at my hands then, still coated with dust from the cement I'd smashed (as well as peanut butter). Suddenly self conscious, I hid them from view.

"And what of you, Natty boy?" I deflected. "Pompous little hotshot you are, why haven't you gone and conquered London by now? Wasn't that all you were moaning about before? Serving idiots and how it should be you calling the shots? London's defenseless and you and I both know you could take it easily. Why run away to America, huh? Wanted a fresh country to destroy?"

Nathaniel jumped to his feet, furious, "Don't even joke like that!" He bellowed and stormed off into the tiny bedroom. I heard a little 'click' telling me he locked the door, but I was having none of that. (Only I had a right to avoid questions. Natty gave that up when he went off and played possum).

I turned into a puff of smoke and passed under the door (I found myself slightly grateful that this room actually had a door. I would've been worried if the bedroom door was also missing), changing back to Ptolemy once inside.

"Get out!" Nathaniel was sitting on the bed, knees drawn to his chest. He hurled a pillow at me when he saw me.

"Nu-uh. Not gunna happen." I brushed the pillow aside and walked over to the bed. "You owe me an explanation."

"And you don't?" He shot back. "Let me ask you a question – why do you care!"

He made a move to untangle himself from his bed, probably to run off into the bathroom (I definitely was not following him in there) but before he could do so I grabbed his wrist.

"Wanna talk? Fine, we'll talk."

"No. I don't want to talk. I want you to kill me or get the hell out of my life. Those are your options." He sneered and tried to yank his arm back. He couldn't, naturally, weak little thing humans are. So of course he started to make a huge fuss. He was squirming so hard he almost wriggled out of my grasp but there was no way I'd let him off that easily.

I grabbed his other wrist and slammed him down against the bed, hard, probably jarring his teeth, maybe even cracking something, I wasn't exactly being mindful of my strength here. Before he had a chance to start squirming I straddled him and interlocked our legs. Kid wasn't going anywhere.

I leaned in close, I could feel his heart going a mile a minute (Probably thought I chose the 'kill him' option – which I admit did sound good at the moment) and, our faces not even an inch away, growled menacingly, "Third option. We talk. Now."

Nathaniel was staring blankly ahead, his mouth working. It took me a second to realize I'd knocked the wind out of him and another few seconds before he managed to gasp and get air back into his lungs, all the while my patience dwindling even lower. (Seriously, did I ever mention how pathetically weak humans are?)

"There's… n-nothing…to… to talk… about!" He gasped, panting heavily between words. (I could have been nice at this point and positioned myself so I wasn't sitting directly on top of his diaphragm but – what can I say? Karma's one nasty lady.)

"Oh, no?" I asked, "So you have nothing to say about that little promise you gave Kitty? The one you broke – or at least tried to? You think I don't deserve to know how the hell you're still in one piece? Or why for that matter, that you didn't tell anyone you're alive and instead ran off to America – which I remind you, is still warring with your precious Britain. That it, eh?"

"B-Britain ended the war. America's its own country." He protested, his speech gaining more of that annoying 'superior' tone of his as he regained his breath. (I was seriously considering knocking the wind back out of him).

"Oh whatever! I can never keep up with you humans and your wars – point is; you owe me an explanation."

We were both silent for a long while then, I was waiting for his answer and he was probably trying to figure out how to answer (in a way that wouldn't end with me popping him a new one, that is). The silence was only broken by his shallow breathing.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said about the whole take over London thing, alright? Just tell me what happened after you dismissed me and we'll call it even." I could tell he was still sore about what I'd said, why he stormed off in the first place, so I decided a compromise would be best. One issue at a time – I'd figure out how to worm the rest out of him after I knew what the heck happened.

He seemed to think about it, and then nodded. It would've been great if an answer accompanied that nod but he stayed mute.

Finally, right when I was ready to toss the whole damn bed out the window, (and I would have) he spoke, well, muttered, "Nouda ate me."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up past my hairline. (I wasn't asking because I didn't hear him, of course, dijin have excellent hearing, but I was definitely not expecting that answer.)

"Nouda ate me." He repeated, his ears faintly reddening, he'd turned his face away from mine to avoid my curious gaze and continued, "Right after I released you. I must've misjudged how close he was because he was on me right before the staff broke. I was afraid the staff wouldn't work if he ate it – there are stories that the stomach of a spirit is almost like a parallel dimension – so I tossed the staff to one side and jumped the other way, I knew he'd go after me, I was his target anyway, I just needed to give the staff an extra second to break its protective bounds… and then…"

"Then?" I pressed.

"Nothing." He made and attempt at shrugging but it didn't really work, what with me holding him down. "I remember Nouda, and his mouth all agape and horrible and… just, nothing. The next thing I remember after him eating me is being screamed at by some foreign woman, her yanking me into her home and patching me up. There are fragments – I sometimes have dreams that I'm buried alive under glass and iron… or I'll see blurs of color like I'm running with the boots on…It feels so real… but I just can't remember if it was."

He looked at me then, as if waiting for my brilliant input, like I'd have the answer. And I sort of did. "So, basically, Nouda must've shielded you from the blast…" I muttered, a little at loss for words. It did sort of make sense though – if Nathaniel was only inside Nouda long enough for the blast to go off, then Nouda would've died under all the iron before he had a chance to digest him. Almost like how that fish soup had protected me from that nasty silver pot Farquel stuffed me in (not one of my favorite memories so if you don't remember what I'm talking about here it's your bad not mine).

"Wait a minute – that still doesn't explain how you got out from under an entire building, boots or no."

"I don't know. I can't remember. It's possible…"

But I wasn't listening anymore. His words were suddenly not good enough for me. I was overwhelmed with the urge to make sure that this was, in fact, Nathaniel I was talking to and not just some figment of my imagination. I wanted proof.

I'd grabbed the hem of his shirt before I could stop myself and yanked it up, exposing his stomach.

"What are you doing!" Nathaniel squealed, using his free hand to try and cover himself.

I batted his arm away and quickly scanned his torso. I felt myself let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when I saw what I was looking for. (Maybe I didn't let out a breath, maybe I just blew. It's so hard to tell, what with me not needing air and all. Maybe it was just my more theatrical side kicking in).

"Stupid…" I muttered, tracing a large knotted scar on the side of his abdomen (he made an indignant little squeak at that), the wound he should have died from even if Nouda had saved him; the wound that we obtained together. I still remembered the panic and despair I'd felt at the time, thinking that Nat would drop dead at any moment from it. I felt an odd swell of emotion at that idea, but I'd never had experienced it or seen anyone else experience it, so if you were to ask me what the particular emotion was I couldn't be sure. "You're Natty all right. I just don't know how."

"Of course I am you idiot, so will you stop touching me!" He snapped, slapping my hand away and pulling his shirt back down in a huff.

The trance broke and I felt the oddly calming emotion crumble away with minor irritation. I was having a moment there! Two hundred forty two days thinking the guy's dead, I think I'm entitled to be a little suspicious and want proof that it's actually him who's somehow still alive.

I rolled my eyes. "Jeez, virgin much? I was just curious." (Like touching him was my top priority? There were too many less obnoxious, more attractive fish in the sea for that to cross my mind. Still, I did so enjoy his reaction).

"Wha- you – just don't touch me, ok?" He snapped, his face molting a thousand shades of red.

I chuckled, "Fine, princess, just calm down."

"You – oh shut up! Like you're any better!" He gave me a shove, clearly done with me sitting on him.

"Excuse me, what was that?" I asked, cocking my head and not budging an inch despite his furious pounding, "Did you actually just compare me to you?"

"You're a spirit, nothing more to say." He sniffed. (Well at least he didn't say demon).

I let a slow, suggestive smile spread across my face, "It's exactly because I'm a spirit I've had more play than you could even begin to fathom." Nathaniel made a face and shifted uncomfortably so I continued, "What? You don't think I haven't had a few more curious masters in my time? Really now? A slave that can change into any form his master pleases? Who could resist that?" Our noses were practically touching now; I'd leaned in to give Natty the full benefit of my innuendo.

His complexion seemed to be permanently dyed red; he sputtered and reared back, smacking his head against the wooden headboard. I grinned.

"What's the matter Natty boy?" I asked innocently, batting my eyelashes and briefly toying with the idea of morphing into some beautiful, half naked woman to drive the point home.

"S-shut up." He growled, trying to school his features.

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you?" I breathed.

"WHAT!" He squeaked and smacked his head again. The knock must've helped him get his wits back because he seemed to recover then and gave me another shove. "Off, now. This conversation is over."

I chuckled, there were so many responses to that, but I decided I would be nice and oblige. "Fine, fine." I shrugged and got off of him. For added affect I sashayed over to the door, spun around and gave him a flirtatious wink, "Lemme know if you ever wanna finish this conversation."

And with that I waltzed out the door.

I could practically hear his heart clamoring up an orchestra.

Yay! So, i hope i met all your expectations interaction wise (i don't care if the plot frustrates you, i'm not changing that :P) but since this is my first time with Nat and Barty interacting lemmie know what you guys think! I think it feels like them but im not sure :/

Whatever, on to the next chapter! It's summer now, so i have a right to be a lazy arse :D