BAZ
There he is. Dylan Carlson. He looks so lost. I think I pity him. If I have a type, it must be absolutely pathetic men. How hopeless of me.
"Gentlemen," I say. "Why don't we be kind to our new friend. It seems he could use a place to sit."
Dev and Niall don't object, but rather clear extra room at our table. I point my wand at Dylan and whisper "may I have your attention, please!" And it does just the trick I was hoping it to. He turns around and looks right in our direction. I guesture to the now available seat next to me. I can see him nervously shift his weight and rub the back of his neck with his hand. He slowly makes his way to our table.
Yes! Splendid! Finally, someone to pine over at close distance other than Simon fucking Snow.
Dylan sits down with his food. Sandwhiches and chips. I'd come to notice a few things during class earlier. He's left-handed. His handwriting is messier than his hair. Most of his height (which there isn't much of) is in his legs. (Speaking of his legs, he bounces his right leg almost constantly.) And he's incredibly brilliant. So much smarter than Simon Snow. He's spectacular with Latin.
"Hello, Dylan. It seems we've gotten off on the wrong foot earlier. Allow me to start over. This is Dev, and this is Niall. And most people call me Baz."
Dev and Niall, the good men they are, each take turns shaking Dylan's hand.
"Tell us about yourself, Dylan," I ask.
"Why don't you tell me about yourself first," he challenges, cocking one eyebrow.
"Alright," I say. "I'm from Hampshire, and the only heir to the Pitch name. My mother was headmistress here until she died in a raid on the school by vampires." (I leave out the part where I was bitten that day.) Something softens in Dylan's eyes when I mention my mother's death. "I play violin and I've been the top of our class since first year. Now, your turn."
"Okay. I'm an only child. I'm from the only place on the globe that you can high-five." (I must look confused out of my mind, as that prompts him to explain.) "I'm from a state called Michigan. It's literally shaped like this." He holds up one hand, his fingers together and his thumb sticking out. "Anyways, I've gone to a Normal school all my life, but I practice magick all the time. Mostly at home."
"Oh really? Why don't you show us something?" Am I flirting or challenging at this point? I've no idea.
Dylan tilts his head back and thinks for a moment. Then he sighs and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a bag of... MM's? He pours a few into his palm and places them on the table. He carefully folds the bag over and puts it back in his pocket. He waves his left hand over the MM's. "Will the real Slim Shady please stand up!"
What the bloody Morgana kind of spell is that?