bitchprince | Room 303, Friday Morning

Arthur was in a mood.

This wasn't much different from usual - Arthur had any number of moods that varied wildly in intensity and contents but could all, generally, be classified as moods.

However, this was, to use the local vernacular, a really fucking big one.

As was evident by the way he shoved open the door to his room. The way he'd woken up had not been ideal, and so far, it seemed to be sticking. At least he'd gotten his clothes to cover him well enough, and the island had granted him a body that could be called Amazonian and that matched his male swagger well enough, but still.

He was a girl. A bloody girl.

He shut the door behind him, then threw himself at the bed. He had no intention of leaving. Even if he'd sort of have to, for class. The ceiling received a vast smattering of interesting curses across several languages; then he gave up on that, falling silent.

He was not going to grope himself. No. He was, however, going to very, very reluctantly leave a voicemail, and then possibly threaten Morgana with death if she ever, ever mentioned this to father. Ever. Oh god.

[[ door closed, but post open ]]

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"No," Arthur told him, head-on, "It is not."

He yanked the pillow over his face.

Then pulled it straight back down. "Lady Ghanima?"

Edited 2009-08-14 08:45 (UTC)

Let's see who long it would take for Arthur to figure it out.

"Now, I think you're making a little too much of this," Leto said. "I'm sure my brother would mock you for it, and for once I'd say you deserved it."

Arthur had not spent an awful lot of time around Lady Ghanima, so while the speech patterns twigged something vaguely curious, that did not grow into anything substantial.

He sat up and straightened his clothes to be a little more presentable (even if he was now a girl and ergo shouldn't be as worried about propriety around girls but certain things hadn't settled in post-freakout). "Good morning," he tried.

"It's good to hear you haven't lost your ability to be polite to women," Leto replied, crossing the room to look out of the window. "Now, can you offer any refreshments?"

That was... an odd statement to make, but Arthur would take it as well-deserved mockery, and attempted to slide out of bed without disturbing any of his clothes inappropriately.

Or, for that matter, falling over. Stupid lack of balance. "We keep some dates," he offered.

We do? Leto wanted to say, but he didn't.

"Dates?" He looked around the room. "And where is my brother?"

Maybe Lady Ghanima was having an off day herself? Perhaps Arthur's panic was setting her off somehow?

He couldn't quite press down on the funny look that followed. "With Alice, I presume," he said, "Perhaps you'd be best served... coming here... some other day, when he's here, and circumstances aren't quite so..." Horrifying? "...odd."

Leto smiled a little. "Well, I'm not going to interfere if he's staying with Alice," she said. "And this isn't so bad. I ended up looking like Leto for a day, you know."

... Wait a minute.

Arthur was dense, but he was not that dense, and his stance shifted slightly. "Of course," he said, his deferential tone hiding some growing anger. "I can only imagine how much of a chore that must have been."

No, it was a hint, after all. And Leto did notice the change. "Oh? How come?" He did his best not to look amused.

If Leto brought up the fact he'd left a 'hint', Arthur would've argued it was a sledgehammer of obvious (which, really, amounted to a hint when you were dealing with Arthur, most of the time).

He felt humiliated already. Leto pushing that feeling was not working out very well for his self-restraint. "Imagine having to look at that face every morning," he said, still pushing the deferential, and stepping towards what he was now fairly sure was Leto. "Must bring home reminders of all of those boring speeches and ridiculous pranks he likes to pull. Not that I'd want to malign his name to your face, of course, but you know what he's like."

Edited 2009-08-14 12:16 (UTC)

Leto would have pointed out that he was unusually perceptive today, and did it have anything to do with his current shape?

"Oh, I know him very well." Leto looked quite amused. "But if he has done anything to insult you, let me know."

"Perhaps you'd like to sit down?" Arthur asked. Cheerfully.

"I thought you just complained about Leto being too longwinded. You will just have to keep this short." Leto sounded equally cheerful.

"That was Leto," Arthur continued, ever the faux cheerful one. If he could make Leto feel even one inch as humiliated as he did... "I always have time for a good lady such as yourself. Please," he patted Leto's bed. "Make yourself comfortable."

"And are you suggesting that my brother has no time for ladies?" Leto had to ask, not making any move towards sitting down.

"I would never argue anything like that of your brother," Arthur said. Much emphasis on never.

"I'm glad to hear that, or I would have words with him," Leto replied cheerfully. "Now, where are those dates you mentioned?"

"Oh."

Arthur looked thoughtful.

"You know," he said, "I appear to have forgotten. My bad."

"Now, that doesn't make you a very good host," Leto pointed out.

"And yet still the best host in this room," said Arthur, who smiled in a way that wasn't very nice at all.

Leto snorted. "Well, I wouldn't invite anyone over dressed like that. It really doesn't suit you."

"Nor do your entrails suit you, Leto," Arthur said, cheerfully. "Would you like me to help you with that?"

"I didn't think your mood could get much worse, but today is certainly a low point," Leto observed drily. He would take no responsibility for that.

No, he'd only made it about three times worse, rather than the fifty times that the turning into a woman had. "If you want to spend your time humiliating someone," Arthur snapped, "Find someone else."

That was real, solid, wounded pride anger. There was nothing bitchy about it.

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