Inside the Owlery

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"So...um...on a scale of one to ten...how dead are we?"
Darien hoped he wasn't going to get attacked by random french people...or have to apologise to them, which was worse.

Viper drained her goblet. "Well, put it this way: if Madame Lasharna approaches you, run!"

"So there's no apologising..." Darien shuddered, "...involved? Don't make me apologise! Please!"
He knew he was being over-dramatic, but tipping goo and assorted gross-ness over the french girl had put him a very good mood.

The Potions Mistress sighed. "No, your definately apologizing. I don't care if you mean but you are apologizing!"

Darien scowled. "Is that our whole punishment? 'Cos I already feel punished just thinking about apologising...urgh."

Viper smirked. "Be grateful. If it was Professor Delanquar who caught you your apology would be a written one and you would all have to split the dry cleaning costs of Mademoiselle Lasharna's outfit."

Darien rolled his eyes.
"It's their fault really, if she hadn't been a french snob we wouldnt't have...corrected her...and there wouldn't be a bill to pay."

"Indeed. Be sure to include that in your apology." Viper replied dryly

Darien shuddered.
"I wouldn't want to get beaten up by this six foot tall and six-footed woman. Six feet are not to be sniffed at...or sniffed in general."
He sniggered.
"Hah, she must have to do triple the normal amount of feet washing...and it'd cost her a fortune in shoes...I wonder if little frenchie inherited the six-footed gene..."

Viper rolled her eyes again and shook her head. Yes, Darien and her relationship were definately related.

"Everyone hates the funny guy..." Darien muttered under his breath. "I am tragically unappreciated."

"You're not the one with frog parts being flung at them." Viper stated, laughing despite herself.

"We were just trying to make her feel at home."
Darien smiled sweetly.
"And she looked distinctly underfed to me."

"Yes, I'm sure back at Beauxbatons, people are flinging frogs at her left and right."

Darien grinned more widely.
"You never know...They are french after all."

Shaking her head, Viper smiled at the teen. "Yes, well I'll be sure to ask Madame Lasharna if she is accustomed to such a tradition."

"Well...We could always just do a simple test...to avoid any confrontations."
Darien smirked.
"All we need is a bag of frogs legs, some snails, some useless goo and a death wish. We fling the stuff and run. Simple...And satisfying."

"As tempting as the offer is, I'm afraid I must decline. I do not have a death wish at the moment. Not this moment..." Viper replied, smiling softly.

"I might have after the apology..." Darien muttered, sitting down on the floor with his back to the uneven stone wall.

"Like I said, Mr.Vaight. You don't have to mean it. Just say it and walk away."

"But it's still the whole...humbling...thing. It's just..." Darien shuddered thearatically.
"And they're french. I am english. I cannot possibly apologise to one of them!"
He didn't realise quite how snobbish he sounded...

Viper smirked. "You sound like her equal."

Darien growled. "They started it. We just finished it."

"Mr.Vaight, its two words and three syllables. Mumble them and then leave." she sighed, her patience getting thinner.

"How about one word and two syllables? A whole word and syllable less."