"Iapos;d have thought," he said, voice clipped and cool, like he obviously thought he could fool me into thinking he was the same, "that my presence here wouldnapos;t have stopped you from pursuing your /acquaintance/. Magritte, I believe it was? Or was that Isobel?"
"Magritte or Isobel," I said, "I didnapos;t think you pillow-biters noticed that sort of thing."
He looked at me then, eyes green even in the dark and spitting-mad, like he wanted to hit me but was too smart to go through with it. Whatever Iapos;d got into my head just now concerning the professor hit me real sweet and real deep, the way a particular drop did a number on my belly when I was riding Havemercy, but I wasnapos;t averse to hitting him back-- and harder.
Being a Mollyrat, he was too smart to hit someone bigger than he was, and better at fighting to boot. Dirty fucking sneak-- just like the rest of them.
"Wrong, huh?" I guessed. "You must have had your eye on one of them, then." I wasnapos;t getting right in his face, just reminding him that I could. "Which was it, then? The blonde? apos;Cause she screams like you wouldnapos;t believe, only itapos;s the dark oneapos;s got this trick she does with her tongue, like--"
"Donapos;t," he said, eyes bright, jaw as hard as he could make it. "Spare me the sordid details. No one cares as much as you think."
"As much as I think?� /Hereapos;s/ what I think." I changed tack swift as if heapos;d flicked a switch, pushing forward like you had to in a raid apos;cause once youapos;d touched off the ground there was no going back. "I think you donapos;t have any idea who Iapos;m talking about, that I could name them all and you /still/ wouldnapos;t know, because you werenapos;t looking at none of /them/ no matter how much tit they were showing."
"Iapos;d be surprised if /you/ could name one of them, either," he said, "considering your embarrassing display earlier."
"She didnapos;t seem to mind," I pointed out. The whole thing reminded me a little of that first night when Iapos;d put him to the wall. The professor got like a wildcat when he was cornered, and it wasnapos;t like Iapos;d forgot the fact but more like I had to remember it a bit every time it happened. "Why, do /you/?"
"Actually," the professor faltered, "I think that this whole little performance was more for my benefit, that you didnapos;t care one way or another about being with that girl. You only cared about my seeing it and what my reaction would be."
Something sparked in his eyes like metal scraping metal.
"Do you?" I asked, soft and dangerous.
I leaned in close and his face changed, disgust and confusion and fear in his eyes. His lips parted halfway like he was going to protest or scream or something, and I felt a hot spike of victory hit me low in the belly.
It was better than a dive.
a leeeetle bit further on:
That was when I grabbed him by the collar and threw him up against the railing. His lower back hit against it and his breath whistled sharp between his teeth, and then we stared at each other for a long time, that same metallic scraping and flashing passing between us.
"Weapos;re not so different as you think," he said, finally, just like Have. It was like he had some kind of death wish.
"If you believe that," I said, showing all my teeth, "then youapos;re stupider than you look. If you thought I was watching you and putting on a show for you-- maybe you were right. But youapos;d better keep just as close an eye on me," I added, tightening my grip on his throat, "if you know whatapos;s good for you."
"Youapos;re no more than a common bully," he whispered, voice trembling. Iapos;d shaken him for good now, and it was deeper than just the physical side, my knuckles bruising his throat and his back aching for all his so-called defiance.
"I donapos;t care what I am, so long as youapos;re afraid of me," I said, and dropped him neat as that.
[....]
I took a handful of his hair right at the back of his neck and tugged his head back. Tilted up toward mine, his face was hard, like maybe Iapos;d pushed him too far, but I could see something still struggling in his mouth, bitter and desperate like surrender.
"Yeah," I said finally, when I could be sure he was listening, "I thought so."
Then I turned on my heel and left him there without any warning, sagged against the balcony and limp as a forgotten pair of gloves. I needed some time to think about what had just happened, and what in bastionapos;s name I was going to even do about it.
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