A/N: "Ignore him, for he- yeah he's dumb." *wink* - still the best line in RWBY. Fight me.

Let me know what you think!

Thrown to the Wind

Goals

So. This wasn't what she had been expecting.

Normally, when people found out about her athleticism, they would automatically begin interrogating her about her life story. It oftentimes grew so invasive that Pyrrha hated talking about her sport, despite it being her greatest passion in life. She just wanted to compete; feel the wind in her hair, the weight of her favourite javelin in hand. Why did that mean her life was fair game to be critiqued, picked apart?

This was different. His blue eyes practically sparkled. How they looked so vibrant and innocent and pure underneath flickering LEDs, she didn't know. He leaned his elbows onto the counter, chin in hand, looking up at her in such shock and amazement. "Only really cool people get on Pumpkin Pete's," he said adoringly. "That's awesome."

"She's cute, huh?" Nora quipped, proudly smacking her roommate's arm.

"Nora!" Pyrrha hissed, flashing the blond an awkward smile before training her eyes on the nacho cheese dispenser behind him. The machine was making a weird, low grumbling sound. Focus on that. Breathe. It'll be fine, it'll be fi-

And then, her ears tuned back into the conversation happening at her side while she had been dazing off. Nora was chattering happily, "I present to you: Pyrrha Nikos, 20, 5'11", currently single, varsity javelin thrower at Beacon U. Totally single. Totally cute. Best girlfriend material. How 'bout you? What's your story, blondie?"

The redhead may as well have had an apoplexy on the spot, as she practically screeched, "Nora!" She hastily turned to the blond, shaking a hand embarrassedly. "Ignore her, for she-"

But Nora persisted as the blond merely scanned the items Nora had brought up one by one with clumsy, fumbling movements. "So like, Jaune, right? You in school? What's your life about?"

Thankfully, the boy good-naturedly (or maybe just densely, if Pyrrha was right) laughed and continued hunting for the barcode on Nora's third bottle of table syrup. "I'm in Beacon, yeah. Creative writing."

"And how do you have time to do all of these shifts?" the orange-haired girl pressed, ignoring how Pyrrha insistently tugged at her sleeve, wishing to turn invisible. Now, the nacho machine was really making weird noises, whirring and buzzing and- wait, was it vibrating on the counter?

Jaune shrugged, totally unaware of what was going on behind him. "Tuition's the worst, and I've got a lot of siblings who need the money more." Bagging the last item, he said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but," he waved a carefree hand at the empty store, "it's not exactly busy. Why else would I put up with so many weekend shifts?"

Nora hummed, still unconvinced. "Hmm. Alright, bub. You're cool for now. We'll be back." Picking up her bags, Nora suddenly grabbed Jaune's wrist. "You got a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Person-friend?"

The blond blinked at her. "Um… nope. People don't exactly go for guys like me."

Nora nodded. "Okay. What's the bruise about? You in trouble? You in a gang-"

"-And I think that's enough, Nora!" Pyrrha shrilled, taking the bag with the cereal from her hand. Waving to Jaune, she squeaked, "Enjoy your night! We gotta get back to campus!"

And the blond nodded, waving back, still baffled by the interrogation. "Campus is pretty far. Be safe!" After a second, he added, "Enjoy your cereal, Pyrrha!"

And Pyrrha flushed and nodded, hauling Nora out as soon as possible. As they left, the shorter called, "Watch out for the cheese machine! I think it's gonna explode?"

They were answered with a terrified yelp. The orange-haired girl merely grinned viciously as they walked past the doors, fist-pumping aggressively. "Well, we've got our plans for next weekend!"

"Wasn't Flynt having a performance with his jazz band next Friday?" Pyrrha asked, absolutely exhausted by the evening's events. The trumpet-major had landed a spot on a local bar's set list, so everyone they knew was turning up.

Nora giggled. "Performances aren't fun without snacks, silly! And, who knows? Flynt's stuff always ends with…?"

"Parties?"

"And parties," Nora explained, feigning patience, "means you can invite whoever. And he goes to Beacon, Pyrrha!" She clapped her hands excitedly. "CW, right? Time for a manhunt. I know like, five people off the top of my head who could scope out that department, so-"

"Nora, please don't stalk him."

"Too late!" Nora skipped ahead, already forming schemes to find the blond as soon as possible. With her skillset, the shorter girl would be reporting back to Pyrrha about his blood type and his first childhood pet's names by the night of Flynt's performance.

Pyrrha could only sigh wistfully and follow after her. There was nothing she could do now. Yet, the thought of going back the following Friday to actually ask him out filled her stomach with butterflies, the joy and exhilaration at the mere thought of it enough to reduce her to silly, quiet giggles as she jogged down the street. That joy stuck with her for the rest of the week, all the way to the end of September.

Come next Friday, though, the blond wasn't there. In his place was a terrifying man, long black hair tied up in a braid, pale knuckles scarred and bruised, golden-amber eyes glinting manically, long tongue practically lolling out at the sight of the two girls. Nora and Pyrrha took one look at him behind the counter and walked right back out, taking the long way to the bar to shake off the invasive feeling of his eyes following them, hysterical cackles haunting them down the road.

Pyrrha didn't remember much of the performance. Jaune wasn't there.

In her defeat, she threw herself even harder into her practice. Not having the blond there actually did help her throw- come Monday morning, she managed to hit a new personal best. Glynda was ecstatic. But in the back of her mind, all Pyrrha could think of was the bruise on Jaune's face, and worry whether it wasn't just a bruise anymore.