"Okay." Reid coughed, choking on his own spit.

"Okay?? Seriously? Yes! YES!" Had he been a soccer player he would have ripped his shirt off and run laps around the room a la David Beckham. Victory was his!

"You could've just told me why you wanted to do this. I might've just said yes. I like flattery and groveling as well as the next girl. There are conditions, though." Reid froze mid victory air guitar, and sighed.

"I knew it was too good to be true."

"Giving up so quickly, Mr. Garwin? I thought you were more desperate than that."

"Not at all," Reid recovered quickly. "I just had already guessed you were the sadistic type."

"Mmm. More masochistic actually. But seriously. You teach me to swim, I'll teach you how to be an interesting human being."

"I take offense to that, Miss Golightly." Reid's chest swelled with mock indignation, and Holly elbowed him just below the ribs. "Bitch," he whined. "What does that even mean?"

"Meet me in the video production lab at four o'clock tomorrow and you'll find out."

--

"So… why are we lurking in the VP lab?" Reid found himself whispering behind the Video Production Students Only door as Holly ducked beneath overhanging wires and disappeared into the supply closet at the room's rear. He hesitated, looking around the room, when Holly ducked her head back around the corner with a subtle expression Reid had quickly learned to recognize was annoyance, or possibly impatience.

"Are you coming, or are you going to wait for Ms. Devereux to find you?" Shuddering at the thought of the tyrant- er, teacher- in charge of the school's weekly video bulletin, Reid crossed the room quickly and lurched around Holly, allowing her to shut the closet's door. Only once the door was safely locked behind them did he turn and survey the room they were in. It was a small cupboard of sorts, the ceiling only six inches or so above his own head. Holly was fiddling with the dials and knobs of a video camera standing on a tripod, in front of a large green armchair. She glanced up, hair falling around her face like a curtain and hanging softly against her elbows, and motioned for him to sit in the chair. Uncomfortably he did so, pinching the cuticles of his left hand with his right as he waited.

"What's your favorite color? Top three, in order." Reid raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Well?" Her eyes were doing that narrowing thing again.

"Black, silver, blue. Why?"

"Sorry, is this your lesson? I didn't think so. What's your greatest fear?" Reid slouched in his chair, generally displeased with the turn this encounter was taking.

"Isn't this a bit personal?"

"Did I ever say it wouldn't be?" Still the boy cocked his head to the side, debating whether or not to respond. "Look. This goes nowhere. No one will see it but me."

"Why do you need it?"

"I told you, I'm going to teach you to become a human being." Rolling his eyes, Reid ran a hand through his hair. It didn't appear that he had a choice.

"Performing." Holly's face in its entirety appeared from behind the camera, a practiced look of neutrality masking her features.

"Wouldn't you consider yourself a class clown? Someone who likes attention? Isn't that a performance?"

"Not for things I might fail at." Nodding once, Holly ducked back again.

"What's your favorite movie?"

"This Is England."

"Interesting… How very…"

"Very what?" Reid was testy, defensive in the face of what he was beginning to think might be the second coming of the Spanish Inquisition.

"Nevermind. Favorite band?"

"Bloc Party."

"Any siblings?"

"No."

"Who's your best friend?" Reid snorted. Holly raised an eyebrow at him and he gave her a look, knowing the answer was obvious.

"….Tyler."

"What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Coffee."

"How tall are you?"

"5'11". What do these questions have to do with anything."

"Well, all of these questions have to do with something, but for this… some are relevant. Some aren't. If you could have any magic ability what would it be?" Reid smirked; Holly noted it with some personal satisfaction. That's what I thought…

"Flight."

"Favorite book?"

"Ham on Rye."

"Number?"

"Four."

"Animal?"

"Wolf."

"Actress?"

"Kate Winslet." Holly raised an eyebrow behind the camera lens. "What? I see you smirking, Holly."

"Wouldn't have figured her for your type."

"Like I said, Holly, not everything's about sex." He smirked, and she enjoyed the patronizing tone in his voice for a moment- it felt like the normal Reid. Although normal Reid never called her by her name, so often.

"Just most things, right? Does the fact that she's naked in almost all of her movies have anything to do with it?" His smirk grew wider.

"No."

"Liar."

"If I said yes or no how would you know I wasn't lying?"

"How do you know I care if you're lying or not?" He didn't answer, as she had suspected he wouldn't. "Favorite actor?"

"Philip Seymour Hoffman."

"Favorite food?"

"Fish." He bit his lip provocatively after speaking, his boredom leading to what Holly knew was an attempt to provoke her. Pervert.

"Least favorite food?"

"Tomatoes."

"Least favorite color?"

"Yellow."

"Why?"

"Too bright. Annoying as fuck."

"Pet peeve?" Reid actually thought about this one.

"Apparently pointless activities left unexplained. Girls who are hard to read. Girls who sing when they think no one is listening. Bossy, irritating people who never show what they're thinking, and you know it's just because-" Here he sat back, breaking off his statement. Chewing on her lip from behind the safety of the large black camera, Holly brought a finger to her mouth quickly, ignoring the blood that bloomed at her torn cuticle when she returned the hand to her lap.

"I think we're done for today, Reid."

"I don't." Reid looked delighted at a chance to turn the tables on his interviewer. "Meet me at the pool tonight. Seven o'clock. Come in a swim suit."