Skinny Dipping
"You know that boy, the one who stood up to Quintus?"
"Skinny-dipping in the lake!"
"There's something wrong in that guy's head."
"I wonder if Pryor knows what he did?"
"Ooh, look at her turn red, she heard."
"Skinny dipping?"
Myrtle looked away as she felt the blood rush to her face; turning back to the overly green lettuce of her lunch salad. She didn't believe it for an instant. How could people come up with such sick things to say about Bakura? He did some strange things, but, but, but, skinny-dipping?
Myrtle skewered a cucumber slice; wondered where Bakura really was. They usually ate lunch at the same time, but she hadn't seen him since the Diabound incident. The palled girl shuttered, involuntarily, at the memory; she almost hoped that Quintus was ok, but didn't.
"His hair's wet."
"I'm sure he takes showers you dolt!"
"But Knot saw him; said he was-" The voices were cut off, and Myrtle glanced up from her mutilation of garden vegetables to see Bakura walking past them; towards her.
His hair was indeed wet, but he walked with the same amount of confidence as ever; his look sufficed to quiet the madly dashing rumors; there wasn't even a hint of a blush in his tanned cheek. Droplets glittered innocently on his long, dark, eyelashes, as, he, blinked.
"Myrtle?" Myrtle blinked, refocusing on Bakura beyond his lashes.
"You wouldn't have happened to be down by the lake this morning, were you?" Myrtle blurted out quickly, her curiosity overcoming all her pretenses and fears.
"Of course I was; I went swimming." Bakura explained, his voice taking on the certain nuance that had come to irritate Myrtle, it was the tone he took to her when he thought she was not being completely logical.
"You wouldn't have happened to have any clothes on at the time?" Myrtle's voice quickly lowered to a whisper, as she glanced around nervously to see if anyone was paying attention. They weren't anymore.
"Of course not, they would have been ruined." Bakura answered, confused.
Myrtle's heart fell. He had not just said what she thought he had just said.
"Are you alright?" Bakura almost looked worried about her, as Myrtle felt the blood drain from her face, and her mouth fall open, as she gaped at the boy across the table from her. Then, after a moment's contemplation of what he had just said to her; what that would mean, and all the blood returned to her cheeks with a vengeance.
"You… Did…"
"Myrtle, get a grip on yourself. Do you need to go see Madame Brandon?"
"You were naked…?"
"Is that the only thing bothering you?"
"Well… What else is worse?"
"All that green stuff in your mouth."
"Oh, sorry." Myrtle quickly closed her mouth again, and swallowed the remnants of lettuce that had been sticking to her teeth.
"I'm not really that hungry now." Bakura noted, standing once more.
"I was just finishing." Myrtle agreed, jumping up hastily to follow after him. "Could I talk to you a minute?"
"Ok, what about?" Bakura stopped, in the middle of the Great Hall, and turned to face her; so quickly, that she almost ran into him.
"Uh, somewhere more private?" Myrtle suggested, her eyes darting around to all the watching eyes that surrounded them.
"All right." Bakura turned around again, and walked out, Myrtle right on his heels. "Now what?"
"Bakura, I know a lot of things are different where you used to live." Myrtle paused, taking several deep breaths, to try and calm herself; she had not anticipated this conversation "But, if you keep doing what you were doing, you could get in a lot of trouble."
"Don't you ever go swimming?" Bakura inquired mildly, looking her over curiously; if it were possible Myrtle flushed even more.
"We do go swimming." Myrtle replied, slowly, running a hand over her brow; willing the blood to go down. "But, we usually have clothes on. They're called swimming trunks."
"Swimming trunks?"