Chapter four
Something to tide you over while I take finals and rip my hair out. I'm blaming Ian for it's shortness.
Shoves Ian out distract them while I run away!
Ian: Ah…hi?
"Balan! Hey, Balan!"
Peter, altogether too used to his alias now, turned around to see Ed Shakely running up to him, coat unbuttoned and flapping as he ran.
"Ed, it's Peter. Not Balan." Peter said sharply, a little more than annoyed at his co-actor at the moment.
"Forgive me, tis a grievous habit." Ed said dramatically, no sincerity whatsoever evident in his voice. Peter shot him an angry look and kept walking, hands deep in his pockets. "Look, Pevensie, it's a technique. Don't you know anything about technique?"
"I never went to acting school, Ed." Peter said, not stopping his brisk pace. Ed, however, stopped dead in his tracks for a moment.
"Wait. You've never taken a class, nothing?" A nod. "Then how did you get so good?" Ed grabbed Peter's shoulder, turning him around to face him. "Pevensie, I watch you onstage, every day, and you look and sound like the real thing. Where'd you get so good if you never took a class?"
Peter took a deep breath, doing some really quick thinking. "Last year my mum sent my sisters, my brother and I to the country. We lived in a big house with a lot of historical stuff in it, and my little sister loved to play dress up. So we had to play along a bit." Some of this was, of course, true. The house in the country bit, though; Lucy hated dress up.
"That still doesn't explain the sword." Ed said, his face and voice dubious.
"Playacting in old clothes isn't much fun if there's no battles. At least if you're my brother. In a family of four, you have to give and take a little so everyone's happy, and Ed wouldn't play with us unless there were some battles. " Peter said with a shrug, continuing back to his dorm, having told more than his share of lies today.
Ed seemed to find this satisfactory, as he continued his pursuit no more, returning to his own dorm to ruminate on the veracity of Peter Pevensie's plot.