"Well of course, DuGrey, what did you expect?" Paris said loftily, adding a vial of blue liquid to her beaker.
"I don't know, acknowledgment?" Paris shot him a glance that spoke volumes.
"She just broke up with her boyfriend. She doesn't need some lovesick puppy to dote on her every move." Tristan scoffed.
"I do not dote! I notice." he corrected her. She turned on her Bunsen burner.
"Tell that to her next time, if you're not too busy salivating." she said absently, adjusting her flame.
"Mr. DuGrey, are you working or socializing?" the chemistry teacher admonished, and Tristan hastily turned on his burner.
"Dugrey--!" Paris warned, as the contents of Tristan's beaker boiled over the rim. She rolled her eyes and continued her work.
--
Rory pulled again at her locker handle. This is ridiculous! she thought to herself. Finally in a fit of frustration, she banged on the unyielding door and leaned her back against it, closing her eyes in weary defeat.
"Want help?" the voice came out of no where. Rory jumped and emitted a small gasp, her eyes flying open.
"Tristan!" she let out an explosive breath, "don't do that to people."
"Aw, Mary, did I scare you?" he asked in mock concern. She rolled here eyes but couldn't keep a small smile from escaping her lips.
"Oh, you always scare me." He smirked. She gestured at her locker.
"So are you just going to sit around congratulating yourself, or are you actually going to help me?" He ignored her rudeness, instead sauntering over to the offending locker door. He hit it once, and it clicked open easily. Rory blinked in surprise.
Not willing to give him the victory, she quickly stepped around him and grabbed a book. When she closed her locker he was leaning next to her, his elbow resting on the wall.
"Do you need something?" she asked primly.
"Why, an escort to class, of course." she raised one eyebrow at him.
"In return for your locker troubles." he added slyly. She begrudgingly fell into stop with him.
"I never realized there were strings attached," she said in an accusatory tone. Tristan shrugged. The pair walked in silence for a minute, before Tristan spoke hesitantly.
"So Mary...are you...going to be alright?" he asked. Neither of them had to specify what he was alluding to, it was obvious he meant the encounter with Dean. Rory's face became stony, and the air crackles with unreleased tension.
"Why do you have to go there, Tristan?"
"Because I worry about you." he replied easily. Her gaze softened and she averted her eyes, avoiding his penetrating gaze.
"I'll be fine."
"If you ever need to talk--" he ventured.
"--Isn't this your class?" she asked pointedly. He looked at the room and saw it was, but by the time he looked back all he glimpsed was Rory's head, disappearing into the throng of students which filled the hall.