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3.) The time she forgot she was standing next to a friend.
There wasn’t much conversation material to be found while passing each other in between classes, but idle conversation was a step in some direction.
Never mind that it took several weeks of being acquainted with each other for Lou to stop walking in the opposite direction upon seeing him. Jamil could almost forgive that, thanks to the consequences her single-minded movement would bring her.
While she would forget that she was being accompanied by one of her fellow first-years. Sometimes leaving them behind, shoulder-checking them by accident, and so on.
But when one is standing next to Jack Howl—and the bigger question here is how can one not be aware of that freshman’s hulking figure?—mindfulness is the deciding factor between a bruised ego and a minor bump.
“Ow, fuck!”
Make that three bruises, rather.
“Lou?! Your nose—”
“I’m fine, don’t worry about it!”
She just charged right into the human-shaped brick wall. Which was a feat, really.
Better to let Jack fuss over her. Jamil, on the other hand, will pretend to not have seen anything.
(It takes him a few days to stop reflexively cracking a smile at the memory.)
2.) The one and only time she just left mid-conversation.
See, Jamil’s used to hearing out-of-pocket shit. He’s used to people having a lowered guard around him, and he more than expects others to keep their cards close to their chest. Blending into the background versus being civil and hospitable, he could easily switch between the two tactics.
It was another thing to see someone waver between guarded and…
(He can’t really use the word ‘relaxed’ to describe Lou Tang. It just doesn’t fit her.)
One minute they were outside of the gym, right when basketball practice wrapped up. Lou was rambling about an Alchemy mishap that affected most of the students in her class, instead of Grim causing an incident out of spite.
He could empathize.
Try as he might to account for most unpleasant surprises, life had a way of throwing him curveballs that even the most well-trained foresight couldn’t account for.
So, the chat turned into trading anecdotes—mostly of Lou’s chaotic life as the Ramshackle Prefect, of course. Jamil knew that it was better to be the listening ear, to gently prod the conversation along, to recount a bit of the mishaps he’d faced to fill in the dead air.
Until she trailed off into silence, thinking so loud he could hear the grind of her mental cogs.
Maybe it was in the sympathetic expression he gave her? Or did she misread a sense of eagerness in his rhetorical question? No, there was no way it was—
“Oh, wow, um. I can’t.” And she turned on her heel, leaving Jamil alone.
Sure, he could’ve called after her and confirmed his guesses for his peace of mind. In that split-second of her turning away, he definitely caught a glimpse of that familiar red flush creeping up the base of her neck.
How flattering, that she could be thoroughly flustered from watching a gesture as minuscule as him tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear.
(dis)Honorable mention to the time she got bailed out by someone else.
“No buts, Triggerfishie, you remember the agreement.”
“I said weekends. Ends, not days!”
“Then you should have read over the terms carefully, Prefect Lou.”
This had to be calculated, right? No, well-calculated strategies also demanded a sense of finesse in execution.
At least there was something minuscule and plausible to requests from Crowley and the occasional Heartslabyul emergency. Sudden club errands were questionable, considering her only other clubmate was Grim, but alright. Sure, throw in the times she’d get wrangled into playing manager for Savanaclaw’s Spelldrive scrimmages too. Even her flimsy lies at having left behind her textbooks—while clasping them tightly in her arms—Jamil could let all of those past examples slide.
It’s not his fault that her preferred routes to class were so predictable. How many more incidental chats would push her into scaling the outer walls of the main campus?
Her deer-in-the-headlights gaze meant she had considered the thought more than once.
This, on the other hand, was sloppy.
Irritation, unfiltered and raw, throbbed against Jamil’s temple as he watched Lou get willingly dragged away by the Leech twins, their elbows linked with hers.
But then again, spontaneity was drawn to Lou like a magnet.
It wasn’t worth the trouble to think about this—whether she was in a contract for the Mostro Lounge, whether she intentionally lets her obligations fall through just to get out of harmless small talk—It was only going to give Jamil a headache.
Let her lie in the bed she made, or whatever.
1.) That time she also brought him along
As much as she lived inside of her head, Lou was eerily sensitive to the moods of others around her. Sure, she preferred to turn the other way in order to preemptively avoid a confrontation. But it was easy to see when her conscience nagged at her, pushed her to intervene in something that wasn’t her business.
“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” The question spilled out of him, sharp and accusatory.
That third year from Scarabia had been carrying a chip on his shoulder ever since Jamil first entered NRC. His Overblot only emboldened the guy to be upfront about his disdain, to cause a scene in front of more people and further drive Jamil’s reputation into the mud.
Though, the third year probably wasn’t expecting the random freshman carrying a crate full of corrosive Potionology ingredients to interject into the conversation.
“No, but I know when someone’s being an asshole. Who was he?”
It was uncomfortable being on the receiving end of this sudden perceptiveness. “It’s not important. Which classroom?”
“It’s empty.”
“…what?” The straightforward admission made Jamil stop in his tracks.
“I mean, the box only has my books. I’m bringing it back to the dorm.”
“Oh.” He let her take the box from him. Then, that meant she was aware of what was going on in Scarabia even after winter break had ended. That she…
She was the Prefect. She had to keep tabs on most students, it was a logical reason for being concerned. Anything more was wishful thinking.
“Anyway, I’m going. That guy’s gonna realize I lied and I don’t want to be around for the fallout.” Her ears were turning red as she adjusted her grip on the crate.
“Lou, wait.”
“I’m going, bye!” She walked faster, not sparing a backwards glance.
Though her tendency to cut their conversation abruptly was more irksome than endearing, acknowledging that thought would mean admitting he found her company pleasant in the first place.
Which Jamil didn’t, if that wasn’t clear.
Lou Tang only brought a smidge of entertainment—maybe a rare reprieve, if he was being generous—to his monotonous life. That was all.