[[ For Jo | Myfanwy ]]Mihail thought lockers were unnecessary. He kept all his belongings carefully stocked away in his bedroom, sitting snugly on undecorated shelves and settled in a neat pile on the corner of his desk. The metallic lockers standing in the hallway of Mallory were too far for his liking, and yet, every so often, he found there was reason to visit them. There would be some combination of classes where it was too inconvenient to carry all the required books in his usual bag, or where the trek back to Winchester House would take too long, and he would be forced instead to make a quick pitstop between the two lessons to exchange one textbook for another.Today, morning classes had broken for lunch, and the black-haired man had made his way back to his locker from his Classical Civilisation & Language class to retrieve the Further Maths textbooks he had left there between the two lessons. He would have carried them both at once, but his Latin professor had introduced a particularly heavy new edition of the Aeneid, and Further Maths had brought out another Core Maths textbook, and it was a nightmare to take them both at the same time (not to mention Mihail had always been particularly resistant in allowing others to touch his belongings).His locker stood three from the end of a section, where they were ordered alphabetically, and wholly undecorated. There seemed no reason to cover the front door of his locker with unnecessary bought trash, nor did he care to fill the interior with all the accessories and baubles others appeared to require. It served the same purely practical purpose as his bedroom, and sat as white and sterile as if it had never been touched, the only sign of its use a large lock which sealed the door shut. Mihail was fussy about his locks: he was a skilled lockpicker himself, and combination locks were never as safe, so the only logical choice, as such, had proved to be a biometric lock, which wirelessly linked to his mobile phone and only opened at the touch of the appropriate fingerprint.Mihail pulled open the metal door, momentarily setting down the still-hot macchiato he'd been sipping in class, reaching for his maths textbook and the notebooks that came with it, dropping it into the black leather messenger bag which hung from his shoulder. It was weighty - tediously so, in fact - and he could not fathom why anyone would have assigned a pair of classes so close together with such a horrid set of books attached. He rolled his eyes in frustration as the bag sagged sadly where it hung, pouting despite his refusal to leave the books in the now-empty locker.He slammed the locker door shut with a lack of forgiveness which was evident in all his other actions, clipping the lock back into place as he raised his wrist to check the time on his watch. The minute hand was perched towards the twelve, and the silver hour hand was not far behind it, thus meaning that lunch was imminent. The food itself did not matter all that much to Mihail - he never ate much anyhow - and he tended to prefer the second half of lunch anyhow, but there was a meeting for Head Students a little past twelve, and he had never once been late.Turning to exit the hallway and direct his way to the meeting room in question, Mihail's eyes were elsewhere, directed onto the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through Instagram. Most people moved out of the way, but it appeared that someone that day had not received the memo, and he promptly walked into them. His macchiato wobbled in his hand, and a fair portion spilt from the lid of the cup to land unceremoniously on the beaded silk of his Aqualac loafers. His hand fell to rest on the waistline of his white shirt, cinching the fabric further, and his eyes narrowed so that the snake-shaped eyeliner made them seem little more than angered slits, a stray bang falling almost maliciously over his gaze."My shoes," he hissed, a part of him wishing he'd worn the Dandelions instead that day, for then the stain would have been somewhat less significant. His gaze dropped to the navy blue watch on his wrist, and he frowned as the time seemed slightly off. "You've decalibrated my watch, and you've ruined my fifth-favourite Louboutins. Were you not gifted with eyes at birth, or are you just too idiotic to use them?"
Shoes weren't ruined. The very statement was laughable, though Mihail was hardly in the mood to do so, and the sole indication of his amusement at such a sentence was the way the left side of his lips twitched upwards for a split second into a smirk which reeked of twin disdain and derision. "These are Aqualacs," he informed her, ignoring every other word that had come out of this girl's mouth thus far. Her apologies and chuckles meant nothing to him, and he saw them solely as a further assault to the sanctity of his precious loafers. "They are hand-embroidered to a custom design. Beautiful. French. They cost four thousand dollars." Mihail tilted his foot, so the light glinted off the silver and green beads that made up the snakes designed on the vamp, now partially stained with the remains of his coffee. "This is grosgrain silk; I doubt the maids would know what they're doing. Besides, I do not let others touch my beauties." He was fussy about the shoes, more so than anything else, and only the very closest of his companions were given the excuse to touch them.For a moment longer, the man stared down at the shoes, his gaze still dark, obviously distressed by the entire situation, though he refused to show any emotion rather than anger. As if he needed to pay more considerable attention to his walking-path: most were intelligent enough to step out of his way and not comment on the way he was so often engrossed by all his favoured social media apps. The idea of interrupting him would have been thoroughly idiotic, and Mihail ignored the suggestion that he should alter his attentions, skipping directly to the introductions."Princess," he answered, feeling as if that was the most appropriate nickname by which to introduce himself at that moment, given that she was already aware of his full name. Extending a hand with crimson-painted nails in response, pointing his fingers downwards in a silent request for a kiss, his next words almost clearly untrue, with little attempt to hide the contempt which filled his words. "Lovely to meet you, Myfanwy." Mihail was touchy about diminutives (perhaps why, outside of his close friend group and potential partners, his own nickname was more of a title). "I am certain Elizabeth has made some darling comments about me." This was unlikely, but he did not entirely care.Glancing down at his watch in irritation once more, still annoyed by the way the collision had shifted the time by what he calculated to be around one-minute-and-thirty-seconds, he was thankful to see there was still time before the meeting. He turned his gaze back to Myfanwy, running it down the length of her outfit and settling on her own drenched shoes. "I imagine we were rushed to return to the Victorian period?" he queried, smug at his own words, for her outfit seemed drastically outside of the norm, and she stood out even in the empty corridor. "I am surprised Elizabeth would allow someone with such a loose grasp of basic dress-sense to sit so near her illustriousness." The words dripped with sarcasm, and he quirked his hip outwards, clearly indicating he did not mean to move from his current position until this entire matter had been resolved to his standards. "Now, do we desire a detention for gallivanting so madly through the halls, or am I feeling apologetic?"
More apologies. Mihail watched her through his thick eyelashes, his expression uninterested, though he found some amusement in the way she had lowered her own eyelashes, and the way a smile had crept onto her lips. His scornful smirk widened, surprised by yet mildly accepting of the flirting, then thought he might crush her apparent momentary fantasy. "I am in a relationship," he commented, though unsure where he and his sometimes-partner currently stood. It was now an 'off', so far as he was aware, "and it is a same-sex relationship. And I do not find you attractive, even speaking objectively." She was not entirely his type, even on those rare occasions when he did swing towards women."You are correct: your personal style is highly different from that which I usually experience. Elizabeth is partially correct as well: it is unique." The latter, however, was not something with which Mihail could agree. He had always favoured high fashion, and followed most designers avidly. Thus the majority of his outfits seemed to fall directly from a catwalk, regardless of whether they were typically deemed excessively extravagant for everyday wear. He considered himself thrice as fashionable as most other students, and most certainly more so than the girl who had dared ruin such a carefully selected outfit. "As for your concerns, I do not care for your apologies. My sisters often wish to speak with me, but that does not mean I do not pay attention to my surroundings." A lie, given the situation, but it did not matter. Mihail was confident he had the upper hand in this encounter.The youngest Toussaint might not have been feeling apologetic, and such was evident in the way his eyebrows remained furrowed together, and he had not shifted his hand from his waistline, but it seemed Myfanwy was, at least, willing to attempt to make amends. He snorted at her feigned sweetness, and at the suggestion that she could pay for his items. It was not a matter of price - he was relatively confident she could afford either the replacement or the laundering - but more an uncommon sentimentality."I do not desire them replaced," he objected, his tone tilting in such a way that implied incredulity she would even suggest this. "As I said, these are custom-designed. No one touches my Louboutins." There were only two (three, technically) people he would trust to do so, and this girl was not one of the lucky few. "I think a detention is more than fair."Mihail turned away a moment, his attention falling on a smaller student who was attempting to pass the altercation without drawing attention to themselves. He gestured them over for a moment, giving them the previously offending coffee to hold onto so he could easily reach into his bag to find his little pad of detention slips. He scrawled on the name she had given him (his handwriting had never been all that elegant), then scribbled some comment about the alleged 'assault' which was her offence. "Tonight, hm?" he suggested, even though the question was rhetorical as he marked down the final time. "Lucky you: I specifically requested the honour of supervising this evening's detention. You're sure to have a delightful time. Five-thirty to eight-thirty. Do you know where the detention room is?"
It seemed Myfanwy had come to terms with the fact that Mihail was correct (a truth which most eventually learned to understand), and he offered her the kind of smile which appeared perfectly kind but was slightly more condescending. Still, the moment was shortlived, as the girl's face immediately shifted into an expression of surprise as he announced his intentions to offer her detention. He didn't think it so ludicrous a suggestion. "You seem confused?" he questioned as she glanced over the slip, for a moment wondering if it was due to an inability to read his handwriting. It was true that it was not the neatest, but the style of his script seemed thoroughly unimportant compared to the grand scheme of things, and he didn't care if others disliked it. Mihail was not one to be interested in the opinions of others. "Assault, noun. In law: an act which threatens physical harm to a person, whether or not actual harm is done. Your actions here have threatened harm unto me and, therefore, it merits detention. I would rather you did not question me, else I might be forced to give you another detention period for disobedience."Mihail returned his booklet of detention slips to his bag, taking back his half-empty cup of coffee from the boy-turned-temporary-table and shooing him away. The girl was staring at him with evident distaste, and her expression had turned to something he supposed she thought was menacing but only seemed amusing in its failure. It was not a strange reaction: most weren't quite so happy to see they had been assigned a detention. Her tone was nothing new either, and Mihail bent down so that his height was level to her, despite the heel on his ruined shoes."I would save your attempts at viciousness, darling. You ruined my shoes and decalibrated my watch, and I am not in the habit of forgiveness. You wouldn't like to see what I did to this one man who tried to steal my Biancas, but, and do trust me on this, he can't see you now." He smirked at her, lacing his words with the same malice she attempted as he pulled himself up to his full height, looming over the girl. "Bad behaviour begets punishment; I am sure you must have learned that at some point in your life and, even if you have not, I can assure you that you shall in your time here. Now, the detention room is on the second floor of Grimsby Hall, and it is rather difficult to miss. As for Liza, no, there is no need to question her." Mihail took a long, slow sip from his macchiato, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground, frowning thoughtfully. "I assume you have brought up your friend as you think I am afraid of her but, let me assure you: I most certainly am not. I am her superior, and I have the right to assign detentions as I see fit. Now..." He glanced at his watch a final time, still annoyed by the slightly incorrect timing, then continued, lingering after he spoke to ensure she was fully aware of the situation: "I have a meeting. I shall see you this evening. Do not be late. Is that understood?"
"Being a woman does not excuse you from being able to cause physical harm. In case it has escaped your notice - and by looks, I would say it probably has - we are in the twenty-first century. I can assure you that any of my sisters could likely tackle a man twice her size if she so needed to." All the Toussaint children, male or female, knew how to hold their own against others, and Mihail knew full well that not one of his sisters would allow a man to harm her without holding her own against him. "However, we are not here to discuss gender equality. Assault, as I have stated, is an act which threatens harm, whether or not said harm is done. My macchiato was hot and, therefore, by causing me to spill it, you might have caused me harm. You certainly caused harm to my shoes, and that I do not allow. This is not a matter for further debate."He chose to ignore her nonsensical argument that Elizabeth might hold a higher rank than he, knowing full well that it was not true. Solely because she was the daughter of the headmaster did not mean she held authority over him: she was no more than a child, and it was her father who held any power. Any individuals who believed otherwise clearly had a weak grasp of how power worked or was transferred between people. Besides, Mihail was perfectly aware that his family could crush hers easily, for they often handled high-class targets with little concern. The only statement Myfanwy had made that was clearly correct was that he was valuable to their headmaster. He knew that much to be accurate, for his academic record had always been perfect, and he was an exemplary student in every other regard.Was she attempting to suck up to a passing professor? It was almost comical, but Mihail almost mimicked the action by offering the man a polite smile in greeting. "Thank you," he replied, perhaps genuinely appreciative of her hope that things go well in his meeting, though he did not respond to her offer as to his watch, for the brand required specific fixing, and her proposal would not help. Mihail took her hand, shaking it lightly before he adjusted the sit of his bag strap over his shoulder, already starting to walk away. "And once more: do not be late."[[ RP Ended | Continued HERE ]]
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