A/N: Thanks to Rosethorn for reviewing too. I realise there's quite a bit
of dialogue in this one too, but more descriptions to come, I promise!
Thanks again. :)
*****
It was very rare that the students went anywhere near Harrigon's ballroom. Not because it was forbidden to do so. It wasn't. It was just that, seeing as how balls were few and far between, the room was often rented out to the residents of the nearby village for various activities. Harrigon was a large school, a contained community. The students had plenty to occupy their leisure time on campus, and didn't often venture into the village. Therefore, it wasn't until they had started taking morning walks past the ballroom that they even REALISED that a good portion of the villagers liked to live their lives...au natural.
Tonight, however, everyone present was dressed for the occasion...well. Dressed, full stop. The room itself was no exception. The decorating committee and the art teacher had gone all out, transforming the rectangular space from classic elegance to Cupid Overload. Red and pink satin streamers lined the ceilings, heart-shaped balloons floated around – vainly attempting to dodge the grasping hands of the school's more immature patrons – and the buffet tables staggered under the weight of magenta coloured food ("Gross! They even dyed the mystery meat red!" "Maybe it's just rare?" "Uh, I don't think so. We have it every night, duh!"). The attendants of the dance were required – forced, actually, because all other entrances had been blocked off – to enter the room underneath a giant golden archway, formed by the touching arrows of two enormous gaudy Cupid figures.
It was very atmospheric.
It was very romantic.
It was extremely –
"Revolting," Ophelia uttered, looking around in distaste. Her nose and mouth wrinkled at once, and she looked – had she known it – astonishingly like her great-aunt Mary.
Jessica opened her mouth, and then closed it. And then repeated the process over again. She was, for once, speechless.
Hannah looked around in what Ophelia hoped was hysterical disgust, but suspected was bordering on girlish glee. She was right. Hannah actually clapped her hands together, and squealed.
Ophelia glared at her.
"You're a disgrace to - "
"Womankind?" Jessica suggested, eyeing Hannah with incredulous horror.
"People with sight."
"Oh! But, it's so...so..."
"Nauseating," From the other side of the room, Will managed to speak finally. His mouth had been hanging open from the moment he'd walked under that dratted ugly pair of Cupids.
"Oh my...they've even cut the CDs into heart shapes," Jack said, blinking.
"Will they even still work?"
"Nope."
"So there'll be no music?"
"I believe that giant red monstrosity over there is a karaoke stand."
"Karaoke."
"Yep."
"Reckon the Cupid Brothers' arrows are sharp enough to end our misery now?"
"Probably worth a try."
"You can do the world a favour later," Robert piped up absently, "You have to ask Hannah to dance first, remember?"
"Oh," said Will flatly. "Still planning to declare your undying love to the short musician then. You know, I heard that one in every three rejections at a ball can lead to a crippling lack of self-esteem. And sex drive."
"Your skull is about five seconds away from encountering a slab of mystery meat, Carlyle."
*****
"I can't!"
Ophelia and Jessica exchanged glances with each other and then looked back at Hannah.
"Hannah," Ophelia said sweetly.
"I CAN'T!"
"If you don't get your butt over there right now, and ask Robert Brent to dance, I'm showing everyone the picture."
"What picture?" Jessica asked, in cheerful confusion.
"The picture from first year."
"Oh, THE picture."
Brief pause.
"Well...I can't see him anyway."
"He's right over there, talking to Jack. There. In the really obvious masks. And now they're looking at us. Wave, Hannah! Smile! Hannah! Get out from behind that screen! Now look, Jack's looking at us. And Robert's looking at his shoes. Possibly he's finally noticed that they're on the wrong feet. And now Jack's walking away and Robert's by himself! Perfect opportunity! Go!"
"Ohhhhhhhhh, I feel faint. I see stars. I see the light!"
"I see a photo of you streaking across the football fi - "
Ophelia's voice trailed off, and she and Jessica smiled as Hannah hurried across the room to Robert's side.
"Great," said Jessica, "I predict they'll be married in a year."
*****
Robert shuffled his feet nervously and looked around. Jack had gone off to one side of the room, ostensibly so he could casually approach Hannah, who was on the OTHER side of the room, and ask her to dance without it looking like a set-up.
Except she wasn't on the other side of the room.
He looked around frantically, but couldn't see her. Ophelia and who he thought was Jessica Montgomery now stood alone, looking Casual and Inconspicuous. Ophelia was scratching her nose (well the nose area on her mask, actually) and Jessica was examining her fingernails. Robert gave them a quizzical glance, and then spun around in consternation, and stepped squarely on Hannah's foot.
Hannah pressed her lips together as the right shoe on Robert's left foot landed on her own – already uncomfortable – new heels. She tried to play it cool. No need to make him feel bad. It was an accident.
"OWWWWWWWW!"
"Sorry!" Robert looked mortified.
"Er...that's ok. It didn't hurt."
There was an awkward silence. Both of them were suddenly grateful that their masks covered their burning cheeks and ears.
"So. Uh..."
"Yes, Hannah? I mean, um. Yes, mysterious stranger?"
There was another awkward silence.
"Remember the picture," Robert thought he heard Hannah muttering under her breath, but he didn't understand that and she couldn't quite seem to manage anything else.
Right. Time to be manly.
"Would you..."
The words stuck. They just halted in his throat, and he looked around again, even more desperately this time. Where was Jack?! This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He couldn't ask her to dance himself. His mouth was dry. His palms were sweating. He was wearing his shoes on the wrong feet for goodness sakes! (How the hell that had happened, he'd work out later.)
"Please excuse me? I have to...um...go...stand over there."
Mentally punching himself in the nose, Robert rushed off.
Hannah blinked.
She told herself it wasn't her.
She told herself not to cry.
She turned around and faced her cousin and friend, who were looking from her to Robert's quickly departing back in confusion.
And she glared.
*****
Peter and Mouse stood, cleverly (if they did say so themselves) concealed behind a large heart-shaped topiary bush. They had previously been cleverly concealed behind the karaoke stand, until the English teacher, Harris? Havers?, had wrestled her way onto it five long and excruciating songs earlier.
They watched as Jack slowly weaved his way around the room, edging closer to a rather miffed looking Hannah Jones (at least, her hands were planted firmly on her hips and she was exuding a pissed off vibe).
"You'd think these prats would at least splash out on full-sized masks," Peter muttered, "It's freakin' easy to tell who everyone is. So much for the element of mystery."
"I did," said Mouse proudly.
Peter turned and looked at him.
Mouse's mask was pointed and exquisitely carved into shape. And very rodent- like in appearance.
"Oh," said Peter pleasantly, "Are you wearing a mask?"
Mouse was instantly confused.
"Huh?"
"Never mind, look, brother dear's dancing with the short girl. Time to track down the kiss-ass."
Peter eased his way through the throng of masked students and teachers on the dance floor (most of them seemed to either be doing a strange head- bobbing movement that he'd never seen before, or they were trying to cover their ears against the cacophony coming from the stage), Mouse stumbling and bumping into every second person in his wake.
They slithered past the dancing Jack and Hannah, and Peter tried not to accidentally kick his brother in the groin.
"Are you serious? He really...he really likes me?"
"Totally. But he's way too shy to tell you."
"Robert? Shy?"
"Like I said. He really likes you."
Peter rubbed a hand over his churning stomach and made a face behind his black hawk mask. His was one of the few that actually covered his entire head, and he stooped a little lower to try and appear shorter.
He wound his way over to stand by Robert, who was doing a terrible job of trying not to look over at the dancers.
Jerking his head, widening his eyes, crooking his finger and finally slapping Mouse around the head and yanking him to stand next to him, Peter opened his mouth and said in carrying tones:
"I can't believe it. Looks like Jack-boy's actually going to make his move. I never thought he'd do it."
He altered the pitch of his voice, until it sounded curiously universal and unidentifiable. He was immensely proud of his talent in that direction.
Mouse rubbed his chin, and then gave a muffled screech and rubbed his shin where Peter kicked him.
"Well, he did say he was going to ask her out tonight," he managed, rather too loudly and obviously, but still looking very impressed with himself.
"Yeah, but you know he felt bad, because Robert likes her too, but I guess that wasn't going to stop him. All's fair in love and war, he said, and Robert didn't really deserve her anyway, sweet angel that she is, he said." Peter almost choked over that one, but just managed to keep his dinner down.
Glancing at Robert's frozen stance, he smothered a grin, and transferred his gaze back to the dance floor.
"Yep, and apparently she loves him too, so it'll all work out well, I guess. Shame about Robert though. He doesn't seem like such a bad bloke. Quite liked him in first year, myself."
Guessing that Mouse was about to pipe up with something along the lines of "But, Peter, you weren't HERE in first year", Peter mustered up his most withering stare.
"THROWING OFF THE SCENT," he hissed, just loud enough for Mouse to hear.
While his unfortunate friend was trying to work that one out, Peter hammered in the last nail.
"He's been in love with her for years. Practically everyone knows that. Most people don't know whether to be happy for them, possibly finally getting together, or sorry for poor Robert."
With a last look at Robert's stony countenance, Peter smirked and moved off, dragging Mouse with him.
Well. That was as easy as his mother had been.
*****
Ophelia sighed, excused herself from the tall boy she had been dancing with – or trying to. For the love of thespians, when would Havers get the heck off that stage! Grabbing a red olive from the table, she popped it into her mouth, and, sighing, looked around.
Hannah was dancing with Jack still. They were deep in conversation. At least she looked happier now. Ophelia still didn't understand what had happened with that nit, Robert, before. Surely the twat hadn't said NO? If he had, his balls were heading for a meeting with her foot.
Swinging her gaze to the right, she encountered a wide-shouldered figure in a black mask, and felt inexplicably irritated. Then she realised. Oh. WILL.
Scooping up another olive, she straightened her own mask and sidled over. She was bored. Might as well torment Will for awhile.
She leapt in front of him dramatically.
He just stared at her. Clearly he'd seen her coming. Oh, well.
Ugh. Ophelia. Will looked at the tall girl in front of him. Curly tendrils of wild hair sprouted from behind her mask in wanton abandonment. Her shapely calves and feet beneath her little black dress were strapped into lethal looking stilettos.
She looked annoying, not sexy. Irritating. Yes. Irritating.
Will stroked a hand over his mask, confident that she didn't recognize him. He really was excellently outfitted tonight.
"Hello," said Ophelia, deceptively sweet.
"Hello there," Will deepened his voice as low as it would go.
Pause.
"Sorry?"
"Er – I said hello," he said in his normal tones.
"And who might you be?" Ophelia winked flirtatiously and tried not to throw up.
Will inwardly snickered. No idea who he was. Tee hee.
"You can call me...Handsome. Very Handsome."
Oh. My. God.
If she didn't die of laughing right now, Jessica and Hannah would later.
Struggling to keep a straight face, Ophelia managed a very respectable brainless giggle.
"And who might you be?" Will's voice slipped down a couple of octaves again.
Ophelia tried not to roll her eyes.
"Jones. Ophelia Jones."
"Oh!" Will faked a startled exclamation.
"What?" Ophelia asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Nothing. It's just...nothing."
"What?" she repeated, a shade more menacingly.
"It's just...I'm a little surprised to see you up."
"Up?" Ophelia asked, a shade puzzled and very suspicious, "Like out of bed? It's only ten o' clock."
"No. But...well, I heard that by this time, if you weren't dancing on a table, you could usually be found passed out behind one. No offense."
Brief, dangerous silence.
"And who told you that?" Ophelia asked, with suspect calm.
"Oh, I don't remember. I thought it was common knowledge. Oops! I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
"I bet it was Will Carlyle," Ophelia tested, watching him carefully.
Will scratched his head, and then cocked it.
"Will Carlyle? It sounds familiar, but I just can't place him. Who is this Will Carlyle?"
Ophelia smiled behind her mask in a distinctly cat-like arch way.
"Oh! I'm sure you've heard of him? You've probably at least laughed at him."
"A witty fellow, is he?"
"Sadly, no. Just clumsy and a tad unfortunate to look at. People can be so cruel, can't they?"
"I don't think we can be talking about the same Will Carlyle. The man I was thinking of is..."
"Oh no, we can't be," Ophelia interrupted, "This one isn't a MAN. In fact, I have my doubts that he's even human. Surely you know who I mean! He's always making little attempts at jokes, but laughs by himself. He's awfully boring and frightfully mean, and a complete suck up - "
"SUCK UP! Er, I mean..."
"Oh yes. Terribly. He's Jack Harrington's lap dog, always hanging onto his socks and trailing around after him. I think he pays Jack to let him hang out with him."
It was amazing how Will's black mask could go from slightly suave to almost comically affronted looking in a matter of minutes.
"Well. When I come across him, I'll be sure to tell him what you've said!"
"Oh please do. He'll no doubt try a few insults back about me, no one will pay any attention to him, and a lot of food will be saved when he goes into a sulk and refuses to eat his dinner. Have a good night! Ta ta!"
And with that, Ophelia danced off, leaving an exceedingly peeved Handsome behind her.
*****
It was very rare that the students went anywhere near Harrigon's ballroom. Not because it was forbidden to do so. It wasn't. It was just that, seeing as how balls were few and far between, the room was often rented out to the residents of the nearby village for various activities. Harrigon was a large school, a contained community. The students had plenty to occupy their leisure time on campus, and didn't often venture into the village. Therefore, it wasn't until they had started taking morning walks past the ballroom that they even REALISED that a good portion of the villagers liked to live their lives...au natural.
Tonight, however, everyone present was dressed for the occasion...well. Dressed, full stop. The room itself was no exception. The decorating committee and the art teacher had gone all out, transforming the rectangular space from classic elegance to Cupid Overload. Red and pink satin streamers lined the ceilings, heart-shaped balloons floated around – vainly attempting to dodge the grasping hands of the school's more immature patrons – and the buffet tables staggered under the weight of magenta coloured food ("Gross! They even dyed the mystery meat red!" "Maybe it's just rare?" "Uh, I don't think so. We have it every night, duh!"). The attendants of the dance were required – forced, actually, because all other entrances had been blocked off – to enter the room underneath a giant golden archway, formed by the touching arrows of two enormous gaudy Cupid figures.
It was very atmospheric.
It was very romantic.
It was extremely –
"Revolting," Ophelia uttered, looking around in distaste. Her nose and mouth wrinkled at once, and she looked – had she known it – astonishingly like her great-aunt Mary.
Jessica opened her mouth, and then closed it. And then repeated the process over again. She was, for once, speechless.
Hannah looked around in what Ophelia hoped was hysterical disgust, but suspected was bordering on girlish glee. She was right. Hannah actually clapped her hands together, and squealed.
Ophelia glared at her.
"You're a disgrace to - "
"Womankind?" Jessica suggested, eyeing Hannah with incredulous horror.
"People with sight."
"Oh! But, it's so...so..."
"Nauseating," From the other side of the room, Will managed to speak finally. His mouth had been hanging open from the moment he'd walked under that dratted ugly pair of Cupids.
"Oh my...they've even cut the CDs into heart shapes," Jack said, blinking.
"Will they even still work?"
"Nope."
"So there'll be no music?"
"I believe that giant red monstrosity over there is a karaoke stand."
"Karaoke."
"Yep."
"Reckon the Cupid Brothers' arrows are sharp enough to end our misery now?"
"Probably worth a try."
"You can do the world a favour later," Robert piped up absently, "You have to ask Hannah to dance first, remember?"
"Oh," said Will flatly. "Still planning to declare your undying love to the short musician then. You know, I heard that one in every three rejections at a ball can lead to a crippling lack of self-esteem. And sex drive."
"Your skull is about five seconds away from encountering a slab of mystery meat, Carlyle."
*****
"I can't!"
Ophelia and Jessica exchanged glances with each other and then looked back at Hannah.
"Hannah," Ophelia said sweetly.
"I CAN'T!"
"If you don't get your butt over there right now, and ask Robert Brent to dance, I'm showing everyone the picture."
"What picture?" Jessica asked, in cheerful confusion.
"The picture from first year."
"Oh, THE picture."
Brief pause.
"Well...I can't see him anyway."
"He's right over there, talking to Jack. There. In the really obvious masks. And now they're looking at us. Wave, Hannah! Smile! Hannah! Get out from behind that screen! Now look, Jack's looking at us. And Robert's looking at his shoes. Possibly he's finally noticed that they're on the wrong feet. And now Jack's walking away and Robert's by himself! Perfect opportunity! Go!"
"Ohhhhhhhhh, I feel faint. I see stars. I see the light!"
"I see a photo of you streaking across the football fi - "
Ophelia's voice trailed off, and she and Jessica smiled as Hannah hurried across the room to Robert's side.
"Great," said Jessica, "I predict they'll be married in a year."
*****
Robert shuffled his feet nervously and looked around. Jack had gone off to one side of the room, ostensibly so he could casually approach Hannah, who was on the OTHER side of the room, and ask her to dance without it looking like a set-up.
Except she wasn't on the other side of the room.
He looked around frantically, but couldn't see her. Ophelia and who he thought was Jessica Montgomery now stood alone, looking Casual and Inconspicuous. Ophelia was scratching her nose (well the nose area on her mask, actually) and Jessica was examining her fingernails. Robert gave them a quizzical glance, and then spun around in consternation, and stepped squarely on Hannah's foot.
Hannah pressed her lips together as the right shoe on Robert's left foot landed on her own – already uncomfortable – new heels. She tried to play it cool. No need to make him feel bad. It was an accident.
"OWWWWWWWW!"
"Sorry!" Robert looked mortified.
"Er...that's ok. It didn't hurt."
There was an awkward silence. Both of them were suddenly grateful that their masks covered their burning cheeks and ears.
"So. Uh..."
"Yes, Hannah? I mean, um. Yes, mysterious stranger?"
There was another awkward silence.
"Remember the picture," Robert thought he heard Hannah muttering under her breath, but he didn't understand that and she couldn't quite seem to manage anything else.
Right. Time to be manly.
"Would you..."
The words stuck. They just halted in his throat, and he looked around again, even more desperately this time. Where was Jack?! This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He couldn't ask her to dance himself. His mouth was dry. His palms were sweating. He was wearing his shoes on the wrong feet for goodness sakes! (How the hell that had happened, he'd work out later.)
"Please excuse me? I have to...um...go...stand over there."
Mentally punching himself in the nose, Robert rushed off.
Hannah blinked.
She told herself it wasn't her.
She told herself not to cry.
She turned around and faced her cousin and friend, who were looking from her to Robert's quickly departing back in confusion.
And she glared.
*****
Peter and Mouse stood, cleverly (if they did say so themselves) concealed behind a large heart-shaped topiary bush. They had previously been cleverly concealed behind the karaoke stand, until the English teacher, Harris? Havers?, had wrestled her way onto it five long and excruciating songs earlier.
They watched as Jack slowly weaved his way around the room, edging closer to a rather miffed looking Hannah Jones (at least, her hands were planted firmly on her hips and she was exuding a pissed off vibe).
"You'd think these prats would at least splash out on full-sized masks," Peter muttered, "It's freakin' easy to tell who everyone is. So much for the element of mystery."
"I did," said Mouse proudly.
Peter turned and looked at him.
Mouse's mask was pointed and exquisitely carved into shape. And very rodent- like in appearance.
"Oh," said Peter pleasantly, "Are you wearing a mask?"
Mouse was instantly confused.
"Huh?"
"Never mind, look, brother dear's dancing with the short girl. Time to track down the kiss-ass."
Peter eased his way through the throng of masked students and teachers on the dance floor (most of them seemed to either be doing a strange head- bobbing movement that he'd never seen before, or they were trying to cover their ears against the cacophony coming from the stage), Mouse stumbling and bumping into every second person in his wake.
They slithered past the dancing Jack and Hannah, and Peter tried not to accidentally kick his brother in the groin.
"Are you serious? He really...he really likes me?"
"Totally. But he's way too shy to tell you."
"Robert? Shy?"
"Like I said. He really likes you."
Peter rubbed a hand over his churning stomach and made a face behind his black hawk mask. His was one of the few that actually covered his entire head, and he stooped a little lower to try and appear shorter.
He wound his way over to stand by Robert, who was doing a terrible job of trying not to look over at the dancers.
Jerking his head, widening his eyes, crooking his finger and finally slapping Mouse around the head and yanking him to stand next to him, Peter opened his mouth and said in carrying tones:
"I can't believe it. Looks like Jack-boy's actually going to make his move. I never thought he'd do it."
He altered the pitch of his voice, until it sounded curiously universal and unidentifiable. He was immensely proud of his talent in that direction.
Mouse rubbed his chin, and then gave a muffled screech and rubbed his shin where Peter kicked him.
"Well, he did say he was going to ask her out tonight," he managed, rather too loudly and obviously, but still looking very impressed with himself.
"Yeah, but you know he felt bad, because Robert likes her too, but I guess that wasn't going to stop him. All's fair in love and war, he said, and Robert didn't really deserve her anyway, sweet angel that she is, he said." Peter almost choked over that one, but just managed to keep his dinner down.
Glancing at Robert's frozen stance, he smothered a grin, and transferred his gaze back to the dance floor.
"Yep, and apparently she loves him too, so it'll all work out well, I guess. Shame about Robert though. He doesn't seem like such a bad bloke. Quite liked him in first year, myself."
Guessing that Mouse was about to pipe up with something along the lines of "But, Peter, you weren't HERE in first year", Peter mustered up his most withering stare.
"THROWING OFF THE SCENT," he hissed, just loud enough for Mouse to hear.
While his unfortunate friend was trying to work that one out, Peter hammered in the last nail.
"He's been in love with her for years. Practically everyone knows that. Most people don't know whether to be happy for them, possibly finally getting together, or sorry for poor Robert."
With a last look at Robert's stony countenance, Peter smirked and moved off, dragging Mouse with him.
Well. That was as easy as his mother had been.
*****
Ophelia sighed, excused herself from the tall boy she had been dancing with – or trying to. For the love of thespians, when would Havers get the heck off that stage! Grabbing a red olive from the table, she popped it into her mouth, and, sighing, looked around.
Hannah was dancing with Jack still. They were deep in conversation. At least she looked happier now. Ophelia still didn't understand what had happened with that nit, Robert, before. Surely the twat hadn't said NO? If he had, his balls were heading for a meeting with her foot.
Swinging her gaze to the right, she encountered a wide-shouldered figure in a black mask, and felt inexplicably irritated. Then she realised. Oh. WILL.
Scooping up another olive, she straightened her own mask and sidled over. She was bored. Might as well torment Will for awhile.
She leapt in front of him dramatically.
He just stared at her. Clearly he'd seen her coming. Oh, well.
Ugh. Ophelia. Will looked at the tall girl in front of him. Curly tendrils of wild hair sprouted from behind her mask in wanton abandonment. Her shapely calves and feet beneath her little black dress were strapped into lethal looking stilettos.
She looked annoying, not sexy. Irritating. Yes. Irritating.
Will stroked a hand over his mask, confident that she didn't recognize him. He really was excellently outfitted tonight.
"Hello," said Ophelia, deceptively sweet.
"Hello there," Will deepened his voice as low as it would go.
Pause.
"Sorry?"
"Er – I said hello," he said in his normal tones.
"And who might you be?" Ophelia winked flirtatiously and tried not to throw up.
Will inwardly snickered. No idea who he was. Tee hee.
"You can call me...Handsome. Very Handsome."
Oh. My. God.
If she didn't die of laughing right now, Jessica and Hannah would later.
Struggling to keep a straight face, Ophelia managed a very respectable brainless giggle.
"And who might you be?" Will's voice slipped down a couple of octaves again.
Ophelia tried not to roll her eyes.
"Jones. Ophelia Jones."
"Oh!" Will faked a startled exclamation.
"What?" Ophelia asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Nothing. It's just...nothing."
"What?" she repeated, a shade more menacingly.
"It's just...I'm a little surprised to see you up."
"Up?" Ophelia asked, a shade puzzled and very suspicious, "Like out of bed? It's only ten o' clock."
"No. But...well, I heard that by this time, if you weren't dancing on a table, you could usually be found passed out behind one. No offense."
Brief, dangerous silence.
"And who told you that?" Ophelia asked, with suspect calm.
"Oh, I don't remember. I thought it was common knowledge. Oops! I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
"I bet it was Will Carlyle," Ophelia tested, watching him carefully.
Will scratched his head, and then cocked it.
"Will Carlyle? It sounds familiar, but I just can't place him. Who is this Will Carlyle?"
Ophelia smiled behind her mask in a distinctly cat-like arch way.
"Oh! I'm sure you've heard of him? You've probably at least laughed at him."
"A witty fellow, is he?"
"Sadly, no. Just clumsy and a tad unfortunate to look at. People can be so cruel, can't they?"
"I don't think we can be talking about the same Will Carlyle. The man I was thinking of is..."
"Oh no, we can't be," Ophelia interrupted, "This one isn't a MAN. In fact, I have my doubts that he's even human. Surely you know who I mean! He's always making little attempts at jokes, but laughs by himself. He's awfully boring and frightfully mean, and a complete suck up - "
"SUCK UP! Er, I mean..."
"Oh yes. Terribly. He's Jack Harrington's lap dog, always hanging onto his socks and trailing around after him. I think he pays Jack to let him hang out with him."
It was amazing how Will's black mask could go from slightly suave to almost comically affronted looking in a matter of minutes.
"Well. When I come across him, I'll be sure to tell him what you've said!"
"Oh please do. He'll no doubt try a few insults back about me, no one will pay any attention to him, and a lot of food will be saved when he goes into a sulk and refuses to eat his dinner. Have a good night! Ta ta!"
And with that, Ophelia danced off, leaving an exceedingly peeved Handsome behind her.