Chapter 2

Noontide

Arthur trudged down the spacious hallway, absolutely teeming with students talking, stressing over tests, etcetera. Everyone seemed to have a place to reside, be it discussing how their lectures went with friends, or brooding. He curled his lip in frustration. Most seemed to have had a fairly productive day, whereas he had simply managed to waste valuable time arguing with a frog, most likely making enemies out of a horde of adolescent girls in the process (depending on whether or not he went crying back to his 'admirers'), and landing himself a meeting with a man it would not be so cruel to call a boar and a rhinoceros' love child.

The journey to his destination had been rather straightforward, well, it was hard to miss the door when it was surrounded with females who were almost pressing their faces up against the glass frame. The piercing glares directed upon his person as he made his way through the crowd at least served the purpose of deciphering where he currently stood, as well as providing him with the information that he would already have company. Hushed voices and careful points shot through the air like a fast-spreading gas, quickly infecting the atmosphere with unmistakeable malice. He turned his nose up at such gestures. After all, why should he care? Once those girls had settled their rushing hormones, they would soon realise what a mistake idolising that wine-sucking bastard was and scarper.

"Mr Kirkland. You're late. This seems to be becoming rather a habit for you."

Those obnoxiously self-righteous words and an even more obnoxious smirk from Francis were what Arthur was greeted with upon his arrival. He had almost forgotten that one of the downfalls of turning up late to a bollocking in order to prove a point was that the opposition had more than enough time to spout whatever lies he wanted and call it 'his report'. That was probably why the damn frog looked so smug.

"Now then, I'd just like to run a few things by you, then you two may be on your merry way. First of all: Mr Bonnefoy claims that the cause for the squabble was him alone, is this correct?"

He couldn't have heard that right. Had he crossed over into an alternate universe of some sort?

"The clock is ticking, Kirkland."

"Ah, well, in theory–"

"A yes or no answer would suffice, I have no interest on senseless babbling."

Biting back a remark, he complied, response utterly oozing with the sense of a grudge. "No, sir, as much as I despise myself for saying so, I played an equal part. If it weren't for my childish response, we would not be here." Lord, he sounded sickening. He knew that saying what the man wanted to hear was probably the best way to avoid being kicked out, though he had his doubts if this would be wise. Going back to the Frenchman's actions when they had been alone in the hall, it would be all too easy to have any action he took twisted to reveal some kind of hidden meaning used to fluff up that wanker's ego.

"Alright, I trust you have learnt your lesson. Begone, you two; you are dismissed."

He was more than glad to leave the room, graciously inhaling the ancient, wooden smell of the corridor as an alternative to the terrible dose of body odour crudely masked with disinfectant that he had previously been subjected to. The first thing he noticed was the barren space in front of him: completely abandoned by the former crowd. Come to think of it, there was a staggering loss of people in sight, and even then they were old enough to look like they simply stumbled into the wrong place. There was probably some sort of induction lecture going on, though he didn't want to waste the remaining ten minutes of his break stuck in that sweaty hall. It was just a risk he'd have to take.

Finally, now began the precious time he could spend alone without interruption… Or so he thought, until he recalled the fact that he was now placed in an almost bare hallway with a particular Frenchman directly behind him (not to mention he had now temporarily had one of his meagre sources of entertainment taken away: his fangirls). Well, at least he could use this chance to settle the score. "Don't even bother to ask what possessed me to defend you. I may hate your guts, but I assure you, maintaining my reputation as a Gentleman is far more important."

"You say that, cher, though the choice of words you used were not very Gentlemanly. If you had really cared about that, you would have taken blame without making it sound like such a hardship, oui?"

Damn. He had him there.

"I don't recall mentioning that the rules of conduct applied to lecherous frogs." A single 'caterpillar brow' twitched in irritation.

"Je supposer you have a point, although, if I am as lubrique as you say, surely I deserve some points for my self-restraint?"

"Self-restraint?" He scoffed. "As if your actions in that hall were even close to exhibiting anything of the sort."

"I could say the same for yours… You still haven't kissed it better."

"Please. The day I even think about fulfilling such a repulsive desire will be when hell freezes over."

"D'accord, I shall keep that in mind, lapin!" Of course, Francis was fairly certain that if he utilised his charm, that day would come sooner than the blond thought. When all's said and done, Arthur really was the only one in the place worth looking at, and what would be the point in letting him slip through his fingers?

"Glad to hear it, now sod off, if you'd please; I doubt that somebody like you has nothing better to do." He turned upon his heel and marched to the fire exit around the back of the building, sparing not a glance over his shoulder. Francis took this as an invitation, surprisingly, and followed with a spring to his step, not a care in the world.

This would be so much fun! Arthur was so cute when he was angry, and right now he looked absolutely livid. Perhaps risking his place in the university this early on would lead to something good after all!

"I can tell you're following me, frog, so give up the sodding act. I've known Americans who have a better concept of stealth." Arthur practically growled as he flung the exit door open, advancing toward the metal rail to provide himself with an area to lean upon.

"You know, that is quite a bit more than crossing the line…" He retorted wearily, eyes trained with moderate interest upon the Englishman as he rummaged inside his pocket. To Francis' surprise, he produced a cigarette and lighter, furiously jamming the latter to no avail. Not even a spark would form.

"It was not my intention to present a pleasant counter-argument." Giving up on the lighter, he begrudgingly placed it back into its designated dwelling. He could faintly taste tobacco on the paper, and since there was no other alternative, he would have to make do with that.

"What is this? Mr Gentleman smokes?" Francis raised a hand to cover a smirk, just the same way he had done when the Brit first laid eyes upon him. "Really, and I thought you rosbifs were prim and no fun… Aha!" Hand diving into his brightly-coloured blazer's pocket, he produced a lighter of his own. Arthur scoffed at the way it shone. Trust that frog to find a way to show off even through a bad habit. "You may borrow mine, since you are such a helpless little thing." Ah, there it was again, that scowl. So adorable. The Brit all but snatched the contraption, sparking a flame underneath his cig, then making sure to toss it back over his shoulder as soon as possible. He wouldn't look behind for the world, but he could assume that the frog had barely caught it after a sequence of bumbling about. The sheer image of how ridiculous he would have looked brought a quirk to Arthur's lip.

"I have no need for your sympathy. I don't know what you must think of me to assume otherwise, but I am more than capable of fending for myself." He exhaled, letting a billow of grey smoke escape his lips to mingle in the air.

"You looked like you could use it, mon ami. The world can be rough for the unstylish, non?"

"You don't know the half of it." He muttered, dismissing the remark. He would rather be unstylish than as obnoxious as that frog.

"Oui, and I most likely never well." He took in a gust of air, proudly sticking his chest out before taking up the place directly next to the rather irate blond. "You know, you really should let me take care of those eyebrows…"

The Englishman spluttered, coughing slightly before exclaiming, "What the bloody hell to they have to do with anything?"

"They have everything to do with anything, cher, they are unbearable forces of ugliness…"

"Well, if you wish I could simply remove your eyeballs to neutralise their hideous effect."

"It is nice that you would want to touch me, lapin, but I am not sure I was thinking in that way…" A silence stretched out between them, disrupted only by the raucous bell succeeding in all but utterly annihilating their eardrums. Arthur stamped out the small flame of his cigarette into the damp steel underfoot irritably. There went his break.

*Cringing noises* Yeeess I know giving Arthur the generic habit of smoking is kind of overused, but I thought it would be a cute little thing for them to bond over. ;w; Also, the chapters get a bit lighter from here, in case you haven't already noticed. Thankfully, I'll save the bibles until later.