Okay, I'm grounded, have writers block, cant write accents for my life, and possibly have depression, so please just accept the fact that Christophe thinks in an English accent yet speaks in a French one, okay? Makes it easier on all of us.
Just by looking at me, would you ever be able to guess my favorite hobby? No? Go on. Three guesses.
Murdering? Nope. I've found something more interesting than the stereotypical reaction.
Gardening? Please, I don't have a secret girly side, even if I do carry around a shovel. (Though, not as often. I'm at least more average to see walking down the street.)
Running around at night spying on people? Ehhh.... close.
I love people-watching.
People are ...interesting. How they act differently around certain people or when they're alone. What they do in certain situations. What they lie about to their best friends, to their scholars, to their parents, to their enemy. How their best friends and parents turn into their enemy. People are amusing.
But I can't be everywhere at once. So, mostly, I people-watch the center of it all. The ones who get the information on everything and pass it on for fun, unknowingly to one more person than they'd think.
"OH Em gee, Wends, You hear 'bout you're ex's BFF, Kyle?" Bebe ran over, sliding into a sitting position, eyes wide.
I watched Wendy sigh as she turned from Red to her best friend. "Bebe, slow down- you get all hyper over stuff sometimes." When Bebe didn't break eye-contact, I knew things were going to get interesting.
You see, I used to keep my people-watching to a minimum. I sat every morning in the corner between the history and world language wings. One day the 'popular girls' dared one another to sit next to me. No one brave enough to go on their own, they sat as a group directly in front of me. After getting nothing but glares out of asking me random questions, they just started talking amongst themselves. For one reason or another, they never left. They came back the next day and so on. Since I, stubbornly, refused to move 'my spot', every morning the most gossipy girls known to man sit a mere ten and a half feet away. They barely notice me anymore, and don't bother to filter anything, so I became somewhat dependent on their secondhand knowledge to aide my people-watching sessions. Eventually, they made this circle of people their official spot, and meet between every period. It's sixth right now.
Wendy was even more a gossip then Bebe, if possible, but she was much better at hiding it. Something I've learned over analyzing her mannerisms. After being handed the nod of approval, Bebe continued. "Sorry." she spat, "You know how he flips out sometimes?"
"Yeah," Wendy voiced her input, "He like, PMSs or something."
"Well, he totally freaked out at lunch last period! First, he screams that he 'fucking hate's it' out loud and then Stan-" Wendy flinched at the name but didn't interrupt. "said he should visit a counselor and Kyle was all 'Stan- I hate you." and BITCHES OUT! He's all screaming every curse word he knows and Stan kicks him out of their group." If possible, Bebe is more wide-eyed than before as she adds hand gestures to her story to stir up the best reaction possible.
Hmmnn... Kyle, huh?
Kyle was always an interesting subject. He did things differently than other people. No one ever really notices him. He's kind of the loner that everyone is mutual acquaintances with, unless they need something from him. Kyle's the kind of guy who'd fit perfectly into that lifestyle, unless you know better than to think that.
Being the self-proclaimed professional people-watcher that I am, I know better than to assume that.
Kyle… fights. Really, he does. I've seen it in him. If he didn't try so hard to be happy all the time he'd be a fucking bastard.
Then it hits me.
I don't know why.
Which bothers the fuck out of me. I always know why. I always seem to have a need to know things, through my skills- taught, learned, and acquired through necessity. It's embedded in my blood. I have got to know why.
Which… bothers the fuck out of me.
Because I wouldn't care so much of anyone else's reactions but in an instance such as this. Because this case is just a little too interesting for my own good.
I wonder…
It's time to up my people-watching to people-interacting. An experiment for the mind, if you will.
I stand up abruptly and walk over to the gossip troupe. I would have towered over them anyways, but the simple fact that they're sitting and I'm standing (and …talking to them) has me more intimidating than I originally planed.
"'Ecsuse moi, Mesdames," I start- partially because I still haven't lost that accent, and partially because I've found that females in general will feel more inclined to help you if you speak the language of romance. "Do eny 'of you know whear to find Kyle now?"
Red, the list keeper forever and always, knows where almost everyone is, all the time. Sure it's a small school, but you must give her credit. "Ummm… I think he's got study hall this period- why?"
In a way, the leader of this pack of vicious, vicious wolves knows how to handle the more delicate sides of these social situations. Sensing that I'm going to leave without rhyme or reason, Wendy plays her part. And very well, might I add. Wendy wants answers, and knows how to lure them out. Knowing this, I keep perfectly impassive as I cringe on the inside at the sound of her too-sweet voice. "Christophe?" She plays herself off innocent. It works on most other males, but It just sickens me to think she knows me well enough to trick me.
Simply for entertainment purposes, I reply. "What iz et cherri?" I pull a famous smirk and glare combination to let her know she's in hostile territory. She understands, as the alpha, but most the other wolves think I've just complemented her beauty, and do that weird blush-and-turn-to-the-girl-next-to-you thing.
"This doesn't have anything to do with Kyle's newly acquired social status, does it?" having learned the sweet voice doesn't work, she opts a more sassy and all-knowing tone.
"I aszure you, cherri, I halve non idea what you could pozibly mean. I simply need to alsk to borrow 'es notes." I throw in my own all-knowing tone, and Wendy has her answer.
She knows she'll get the full story eventually, but she has to wait for the film to develop.
Wendy nods and sits back down, presumably to calm her pack, while I make my way, smirking, up the stairs. I have gym this period, and they never notice if you skip. Feeling slightly… accomplished, if you will, I allow myself an actual smile, unseen to any others, when I hear Wendy's call.
"Christophe?" This tone is more of a 'don't fuck with me' tone, and one of the few I ever bother to answer. I turn halfway, still posed to walk up the stairs but facing the circle of ravenous adolescents.
"Yes, mon ami graves?"
"Don't break him. Stan's gonna need his backup and when he can't find a replacement, he wont be happy to see you've broken his little puppet." She turns her head gracefully back to her group, and somehow the other girls know to be quiet and look away. Wendy hates Kyle, for reasons I can't comprehend, presumably because he takes time away from 'them-time', but knows if Stan doesn't have his best friend, or- just someone to bitch with, there's a chance he'll go Raven again, and that's something Wendy doesn't want to have to deal with. Even if it means protecting Kyle.
"Of course, cherri." But despite the vain attempt, Wendy knows the ball's in my court, and if she wants any information at all, she's going to have to cooperate.
Years of people-watching have perfected my skills. I've won this dominance battle, though no land was lost or claimed. It's just …a hobby of mine. And I'm going to keep winning. Because Kyle's the next obstacle at the top of the stairs.
