Snow is glistening

[Professor Carlyle]

With no classes to teach until the last period of the day, David Carlyle was having quite a wonderful Wednesday, all things considered. He had breakfasted as usual in the Great Hall, managed to find Socks' hiding place within the many hallways of the castle in under an hour, tidied his office and classroom somewhat, marked his fifth years' homework assignments, and had just helped a group of first years to complete their rather impressive snowman. The problem with the first years was that they hadn't been able to make the snowman particularly tall on account of they themselves not being particularly blessed in the height department. So, upon seeing Professor Carlyle trudging through the drifts of snow, they'd comandeering him to help them out. To be fair, they'd picked the right Professor to ask, because he delightedly aided them in creating not only a pretty impressively lanky snowman but also a snowwoman and snowchild to make a nice little family. Really, he was 11 at heart.

Now, walking back into his office, his hair drenched with the remaining moisture from the steadily falling snowflakes outside and his feet and hands well and truly numb from the cold, David took his coat, gloves and scarf off, dumping them unceremoniously on the armchair in his office as he crossed immediately over to the fireplace. With a swift jab of his wand he ignited the dying embers of the fire, drawing his seat hastily up beside it and practically sitting in it in an effort to return the feeling to his hands. Staring down into the flickering fire as he rubbed his hands together impatiently, he didn't notice someone standing in the open doorway until Socks meowed rather loudly while winding through his legs and alerted him to the presence of another person. "Oh!" he exclaimed in surprise.

((ooc: If you're still up for it, Lia, David's all ready for Kevin!))

[Kevin Walsh]

Kevin stood in the doorway of Professor Carlyle's office, beads of water dripping from his hair as he wiped a runny nose against his sleeve. Due to his refusal to own a proper winter coat, Kevin was wearing four hoodies layered on top of each other, the outermost one completely drenched with snow and hanging sadly from his skinny frame. He'd skipped class for the afternoon, but after realising that he no longer had anyone to hang out with and being shouted at by several Professors for kicking down a snowman and whipping chunks of ice at people, he'd conveniently decided that 'eh, snow sucks balls anyway, might as well stay inside'. Kevin had waited until the last possible moment to get himself a letter of recommendation for Hit-Wizardry, and there were (admittedly) a limited number of teachers he hadn't irrevocably angered at some point. He'd done well in Muggle Studies -- mostly because it disappointed his parents -- and Carlyle had broken up enough of his fights to know that he was both scrappy and stupid enough to fight people twice his size, so at least he had that going for him.

Don't say 'fuck'. Don't say 'fuck', he repeated over and over in his mind. Drawing air through his teeth in an uncharacteristically nervous fashion, he was about to rap his raw, bright-red knuckles against the door frame to catch the Professor's attention before the cat did the job for him. He looked down, then back up at Carlyle, shaking his leg to try to stop the cat from rubbing up against him. "Er, hi. You saw Trevor McMillan get pummeled by snowballs yeah? That was pretty funny," Kevin said in a nearly-incomprehensible teenage-boy-mumble while digging around in the pocket of his hoodie.

Inviting himself to sit down in the chair across from Professor Carlyle's desk, he extracted a crumpled, soggy application and informational packet called So You Want to be a Hit-Wizard?. He flattened the papers out against the desk and cleared his throat. "So, I've decided to leave school after Christmas. I was wondering if you'd write me a reference for bein' a Hit-Wizard." He looked up expectantly, his right knee bobbing up and down like crazy; he was really genuinely trying not to fuck this up.

[Professor Carlyle]

((ooc: David is awfully written, I'm sorry, but hey he's offering to help Kevin so... yay?))

“Socks, stop it,” David berated the cat who just seemed to look at him as if to say ‘what?’ in a haughty manner before leaving Kevin’s leg alone in favour of jumping up on to David’s desk, handily managing to scatter papers everywhere as it did so. “Cheers for that, mate,” he grumbled dryly, rolling his eyes at the cat before turning his attention back to Kevin. Only then did he realise how sodden the boy was. “Dear lord…” David murmured, looking over at where Kevin stood in his doorway, “Don’t take this the wrong way but have you possibly considered wearing a coat for once?” he asked with a slightly chuckle and shake of his head as he vacated his position near the fireplace to instead sit down in his chair behind the desk.

“Aye I did see that,” he confirmed seriously with a nod of his head before the amused smile won through and he grinned, his delighted expression contrasting to his more sombre words as he added, “But as a teacher I couldn’t possibly comment on it, I certainly wouldn’t take delight in such a thing, and I certainly wouldn’t have posted a status about it on Facebook. Nope, not me.” Smiling then in a less crazy and simply more friendly manner, David looked curiously to Kevin as he sat down opposite and took out of his pocket a rather wet clump of papers, the front one emblazoned with the bold words ‘So You Want to be a Hit-Wizard?’ Brow furrowed as he saw this he listened as the boy explained his plans to leave school and then found himself hesitating visibly, sighing slightly before he finally answered Kevin, “Alright, I have a dilemma now because I know I should be very teachery and impress upon you the importance of education and completing your NEWTs but… honestly? My non-teacher side is winning. So… of course I’ll write you a reference, I’m more than happy to help anyone who gives a damn, or pretends to give a damn for that matter, about my subject. If it’s what you want to do then, hey, who am I to do anything but encourage you?” he commented simply.

Leaning back in his chair then, David glanced across at Kevin with an interested look, “Why do you want to leave and train to be a hit-wizard though? Is it that school is boring and just isn't really… ‘your thing’ or-?” he asked. He didn’t mean to pry (David was just naturally nosy) into the boy’s decision but Kevin had always baffled him if he was honest.

[Kevin Walsh]

Kevin shrugged noncommittally. "It's fine. Heat gets trapped between the layers, or something," he guessed while rolling his sleeves to his elbows, "I've still got boots and all." He held out one foot, which was decked in a heavy black combat boot with the names of various punk bands scrawled into it. Kevin moved to stick his hands out in front of the fire, the skin on his fingers cracking and bleeding slightly, though he didn't seem to notice.

"Right," he said to the Professor, nodding, wondering if that meant Kevin also "didn't" chuck a block of ice at that kid a few hours ago. He shifted around in his seat and jabbed idly at the buttons of an old disconnected Muggle telephone sitting on the desk. He was only accustomed to being in teachers' offices when he'd done something wrong, and was therefore a little on edge about the whole thing. He visibly relaxed, however, when Professor Carlyle agreed to his request, and was about to quickly thank him and bolt out the door before the man asked him another question.

Kevin looked puzzled for a moment; he'd never been asked to articulate his reasoning further than 'fuck this shit, I'm out,' which was pretty much Standard Kevin. His crap grades were part of it, his lack of interest in school was part of it, Amy and Caleb were part of it, but those things still didn't truly cover his feelings about leaving. "There's nothing left for me here, I guess," he shrugged. "I just know I need to man up, and stop being such a screw-up all the time, and do... something. Maybe it'd suit me better? No reading, no exams, just cursin' people? I thought about the Muggle Army as well. I'm a seventeen-year-old with displaced anger who can point a gun, what more could they want?" Kevin snorted. He often fantasized about ditching the wizarding world for good, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it, and had ultimately dismissed the army idea with something about how spending all that time with other men 'seems a bit gay'.

"Think I'll get in? Be a Hit-Wizard, I mean," he asked finally, not wanting to look like he was some needy kid desperate for adult guidance, though he really sort of was.

[Professor Carlyle]

“Not when the layers themselves are soaked through though,” David pointed out lightly before shaking his head as Kevin showed him his boots as if to prove his choice of winter attire wasn’t completely ridiculous. “Go you, I for one approve of your music tastes showcased via your shoes,” he smiled kindly as the boy warmed his hands in front of the fire.

“You alright? You seem a bit… on edge…” he said uncertainly, his brow furrowed in confusion as Kevin seemed to be an equal mix of baffled and uncomfortable. Then, leaning forward to instead rest his arms on his desk, David looked over at the boy as he explained his reasons for wanting to be a Hit-Wizard. “Nothing left? Y’know, I’m quite offended, Mr Walsh! Don’t tell me you won’t miss my positively thrilling lessons?!” he said incredulously, in a sarcastically teasing manner, before he smiled lightly and nodded, becoming more subdued and serious once more. “I think… I think it’s actually a very mature decision, Kevin. If you really feel that strongly about wanting to get out there and do something rather than waste weeks on books and exams, then I think you’re right to realise that and make an effort to change things. I’d hold back on the ‘just cursing people’ though…” he added the latter part with a joking smile. “Yes but there’s also a hierarchal system in the army and so lots of authority figures and discipline that, let’s be honest, you’d probably feel the need to rebel against, aye?” David suggested good naturedly.

Shrugging his shoulders he said honestly, “I don’t know, Kevin, as a person who has unapologetically spent his life surrounded by books and involved in politics and paperwork and attended far too many boring conferences… I’m not the best person to talk to about doing something as hands-on as being a Hit-Wizard. However, I know I reckon you have as good a chance as anyone, you do tend to throw yourself into fights with extraordinary disregard for self-preservation… that’s got to be one of the requirements on the job description, right?” David concluded with a chuckle and a shake of his head as he recalled just how many of Kevin’s ‘scraps’ he’d had to break up.

[Kevin Walsh]

"Yeah? Kinda sucks I wasn't around in the seventies, punk heyday an' all," Kevin said while shaking out his hoodie and draping it over the back of the chair. "What bands're you into?" he asked; he was sure Carlyle had talked about Muggle music in class at some point, but to be perfectly honest he hadn't been paying attention.

He snorted at the Professor's sarcasm and shook his head. "I'm honestly not trying to be a kiss-arse here or anything, but I've learned a lot of stuff from your lessons. I reckon I could hook up a television or handle Muggle money or get around on the Tube, you know, if I had to," Kevin said seriously. He took some strange joy in planning his Great Muggle Escape, even if it would never come to fruition, and even though he still hadn't the foggiest clue what that Shakespeare guy was on about, he'd taken the more practical elements of Muggle Studies to heart. "Cool. Thanks," he said with a slightly confused look pressed across his brow, unused to anyone recognising the fact that he was becoming more mature -- in his own somewhat incompetent way, but still, he was making an effort. He'd stopped complaining about everything, and he felt horribly after cheating on Amy, for all he'd acted like a callous prick about it.

"Ha. Fair dues, man, I'm not... great with authority," he understated to put it lightly, laughing at the idea of himself in any sort of disciplined regiment. "Didn't think that plan through too well. Seemed like the easiest way to ditch everything. Ever want to do that?" He flipped distractedly through the packet of information and landed on a list of job requirements. "'Candidate should not be of nervous disposition'," he read off; it was a requirement he'd interpreted as 'don't be a pussy'.

[Professor Carlyle]

“Mmm something tells me you would have loved that scene, I was born in ‘72 and some of the stuff I grew up listening to thanks to my older siblings was pretty cool… not sure some of the punk they listened to was appropriate for, say, a 6 year old child to hear but whatever,” David commented light heartedly with a smile at Kevin. “If we’re talking punk-ish then probably Ramones, The Clash, Sex Pistols. Don’t mind a bit of The Jam or Buzzcocks now and again either. Bowie and Queen are the obvious ones. Talking Heads, Blondie. Oh and The Stone Roses, The Libertines, Babyshambles, Arctic Monkeys, Editors, Franz Ferdinand, The Fratellis, Kaiser Chiefs, We Are Scientists, The Subways, The Holloways, Kasabian, … I always feel like I’ve forgotten someone major. Really, I’ll listen to anything remotely rock or indie-ish, and I’ve noticed I do tend to favour English bands… odd that, from a Scot, really,” he shrugged good naturedly.

He shook his head with a smile, “It’s not ‘kiss-arse’ to say things like that Kevin, it’s good to know people actually listen sometimes. The tube is honestly… terrifyingly good, seriously, London has it sorted as far as transport is concerned. The wizarding alternative is, I admit, more fun but nothing beats the uncomfortable silence of the tube, all the commuters intently reading copies of the Metro or the Evening Standard and glaring at anyone who dares to try and talk to them. It’s so unbelievably British… I love it,” he grinned a little too enthusiastically. It honestly was little observations like that that David loved to add in to his Muggle Studies lessons as though they’d be even remotely useful information for his students to have… which they weren’t.

Reaching across to grab Socks just in time (it looked like it was planning to jump into Kevin’s lap), David tickled the cat near its ears while Kevin spoke, nodding along to what he was saying. “Hmmm no, perhaps you’re not,” David admitted with a knowing smile then over at the boy. However, his efforts to calm his cat stopped suddenly at the boy’s next question about ditching everything. His hand visibly freezing he looked down, thereby undoubtedly showing his guilt, and hesitated, “I…” he finally looked up again, shaking his head slightly at himself, “I’ve done that, Kevin, not the army thing but the ‘ditching everything’ thing, definitely. It… it leaves a lot of people worrying about you, more people than you realise would. I tend to up and run whenever I get too settled, I get fidgety and… I ditch… thankfully that hasn’t happened in a few years but y’know, it does happen so… yes, you could say I do understand that feeling,” he finished with a tight, somewhat forced smile.

Clearing his throat then, David tried to return to a more light hearted manner of conversation rather than dwell silently on how crap of a person he was considering the times, and the people, he’d ditched when it all got a bit too comfortable and serious. Deciding on breaking the awkwardness that had settled over the room in the only way he knew, he suddenly dove into his desk drawer and pulled out a packet of jelly beans, “Jelly bean?” he offered, taking one himself before thrusting the packet across the desk to him. “You aren’t of a nervous disposition, that much I can deduce from teaching you… and breaking up some of your… uh… ‘scuffles’ shall we say. How’s that going by the way, the ‘trying not to get so worked up’ thing that the Headmaster advised you to work on?” he asked conversationally.

[Kevin Walsh]

"I just wanna headbutt someone, really," Kevin snorted. He managed a light smile at the Professor's list of bands; for an 'old dude' he was actually pretty cool, which confused and perturbed Kevin deeply. Pulling the edges of his sleeves over his hands, Kevin poked and prodded at the various items atop Carlyle's desk as he listened to the man speak of Muggle transport. The picture of Muggle life that his lessons had painted appealed to him, but he didn't quite know how to articulate his thoughts, so he just nodded along while making an unintelligible noise of agreement before adding finally, "I prefer flying my broom, but I'd kill to see some of my family trapped in a confined space with Muggles, not gonna lie."

Kevin eyed the cat suspiciously -- he wasn't much for animals -- and looked relieved when it no longer looked like it was about to jump on him. Looking down awkwardly as the teacher spoke, Kevin picked at the peeling skin on his knuckles. Kevin laughed somewhat inappropriately at the suggestion that people would worry if he left, an idea that to him seemed highly unlikely... Kevin wasn't exactly universally beloved. His pissing off for good might be doing everyone a favour, really.

"Thanks," Kevin mumbled as he caught the packet of jelly beans, taking a handful and chewing them all at once. "To tell the truth," he said through a mouthful of sweets, motioning with one hand, "any time the Headmaster tells me not to do something, I just want to do it more. I mean... someone wants to fight me, what else am I supposed to do? I'm not Gandhi forgodssake," he said exasperatedly. "Plus, girls like the scratches an' stuff," he joked.

[Professor Carlyle]

David chuckled at Kevin’s response and nodded, “Well, you would have fit in wonderfully in the 70s then I reckon,” he agreed light heartedly. He reckoned Kevin probably liked playing the ‘so dark and misunderstood’ teenage boy role in general; all he knew about Kevin’s life outside of the Muggle Studies classroom came through the gossip he learned from Joe’s classroom. And as someone who was horribly out-of-touch with the rumour mill he never was the most clued in teacher to any of the school gossip that practically everyone but him seemed to know.

Confused for a second as Kevin talked of his family, he asked, “Really? Oh… oh… not particularly Muggle fans then?” he commented conversationally, trying to ligthen it because he was fairly sure what he and Kevin had in common was a ‘Deatheater father’. “See I never was much of a flier… or at all athletic for that matter… but that’s not exactly all that surprising looking at me now, is it?” he joked- he was lanky and scrawny with zero muscle definition and always had been that way in school, just add some acne and speccy glasses and there was teenage David.

Noting Kevin’s furtive look at Socks he smiled, “Sorry, she’s a bit… touchy-feely,” he told him with a good natured roll of his eyes, continuing to tickle the cat where it liked to distract it from its prior intention to launch itself at Kevin. Absentmindedly resuming said action while talking about upping and leaving on a whim, David frowned slightly as Kevin laughed when he suggested that people may worry if he should leave. Hesitating then he looked at the boy properly, seriously, well as serious as he could be anyway, “Kevin… do you… you do realise people would genuinely worry, don’t you?” he asked.

Chewing the jelly bean thoughtfully as he listened to Kevin, David nodded along, “Aye, you’d think us adults would have realised by now that if you tell a teenager not to do something, they want to do it all the more. Well I say ‘adult’ and ‘teenager’ but, let’s be honest, that ‘wanting to do the precise opposite thing than what others want you to do’ feeling never fades really.” Then sighing he shrugged, “If I’m being honest, if someone wants to fight you, you could… just not, you know?” He shrugged once more and added in explanation, “But that’s coming from a bloke who never was confrontational, ever. Even when he should have been fighting for something.” Laughing then at Kevin’s latter comment he nodded, “Ah! I see, so that’s where I’ve been going wrong with women? Note to self: need more battle scars,” he joked back just as easily with an amused grin.

[Kevin Walsh]

Kevin laughed at the understatement of his family not being Muggle fans. "Like half my family are Death Eaters, no lie. Plus former Death Eaters, imprisoned Death Eaters, dead Death Eaters... that's the best sort, in my opinion," he said darkly. It was an unforgivable offense, in his mind. Kevin didn't talk about his dad much, but he figured people knew enough about him; his arrest had been in the Prophet and everything. "Wouldn't actually want any of them in a train full of Muggles, funnily enough. I was thinking more my mum, for maximum hilarity... her opinion on Muggles is more along the line of her opinion on immigrants, poor people and the gays: if they're not employed as waxers or manicurists, she wants nothing to do with them." Kevin then looked at David and held up his own scrawny little arm for comparison. His skinniness was one of his greatest annoyances; no matter what he did, the weight just didn't seem to want to stick to him, and he could only hope that the Hitwizard training would give him some sort of shape. He was light and fast on a broom, but that was about it.

Shaking his head violently at the Professor's serious question, he said, "Whoa, hey, no need to talk me down off the bridge or anything, yeah? It's fine," he brushed it off. Other people were overrated, anyway. Kevin merely shrugged noncommittally at the suggestion that he just not fight... he was too angry and impulsive, and even when he lacked a good reason to be throwing his fists at some giant dude, the thought of being considered a coward was too horrific to contemplate. Sometimes he just liked being violent and destructive for the very sake of it. Again... he wasn't Gandhi.

"Ha. You're not married, right? If you are, you might not wanna try it out with women. Or your wife will give you some battle scars, I don't know," he laughed. Since his breakup he'd been trying on the 'cute but troubled' act with younger-year Quidditch groupies to moderate success, but he hadn't treated them very well at all and it didn't seem like something he should admit to.

[Professor Carlyle]

David shook his head slightly, "I feel your pain, I mean not to the extent of your family involvement with it but you know, my dad was a right... insert appropriate swear word here..." he murmured with a look of disgust. "The best bit is that my mum just thought he was a bit up himself and proud to be pureblood, turns out he was a bit... deathy when it came to facing muggle borns. Who would've thought it," he commented sarcastically. Then, he found himself laughing as Kevin talked of his own mum, glad that it at least had stopped him before he'd ended up dwelling angrily about his father- he tended to do that a lot if he didn't reign his thoughts back into lollipops and rainbows as soon as he thought about Jonathan MacBryde.

Smiling, David held up his arm as Kevin seemed to compare his against it. "Aye, like yours truly, you're decidedly the scrawny body type. Sucks, doesn't it? I've tried, god forbid, actually lifting weights after one stupid New Years' Resolution, didn't do a thing for me... I've tried allowing my mum or my girlfriend at any given time to fatten me up with every meal they can possibly image... didn't do a thing for me. I doubt it'll ever change," he commented good naturedly with a smile and shrug of his shoulders.

David must admit, he was a little relieved that Kevin brushed off David's attempts to console him about him being worthwhile and worthy of other peoples' concern, because really he wasn't the greatest at being sincere and heart-felt, especially not when it came to students like Kevin. "Really? Good. You may have noticed, I'm not great at the 'being serious' thing that teachers are supposed to know how to do," he commented jokingly and then added briefly, "But you know, people do care. I'm just saying," he held his hands up quickly as though in defence of his 'being serious' for a minute.

"Married? Me?!" David repeated seriously and then chuckled heartily at the very idea of it, shaking his head slightly, "They haven't quite developed a love potion strong enough to trick women into doing that, Kevin," he joked easily. "Nah, I'm seeing someone though, Chloe she's called, so... you know probably not the best time to try out different tactics for attracting women. I think she might actually kill me if I did, I reckon she'd be quite good at clawing my eyes out and causing serious bodily damage," he commented in a casual manner, looking jokingly wistful as though contemplating this eventuality for a moment.

[Kevin Walsh]

Kevin could think of at least ten appropriate swear words to put into that sentence, so he just snorted loudly as he sat there. "Yeah, my dad too," he spoke while pulling on a pair of gloves that had the fingers cut off for maximum ineffectiveness. He let his arm fall dejectedly to his side and sarcastically muttered, "Well, lucky me." He appreciated the copious free food from his aunt and all, but it didn't seem to be helping his scrawny frame. And if he had to be five foot six for the rest of his life... well, he wasn't sure he could handle it.

"Mmhm," Kevin mumbled vaguely, chewing on a jelly bean and cracking his knuckles. To be honest, he was mildly uncomfortable with the thought of other people caring about his well-being -- it went against all of his core beliefs and made it rather difficult to go about his business of being blissfully irresponsible and self-destructive. As far as Professor Carlyle's ability to be serious and teacherly, any time a teacher wasn't blindingly furious at him for something horrible he'd done was a huge improvement, to be honest.

"Yeah, I dunno. Marriage probably sucks, eh? Hmm, Chloooe," he spoke carefully, narrowing his eyes. "Is she cute? She sounds cute. In, like, a French sort of way or whatever." Kevin's definition of 'hot in a French way' was, like many things Kevin said, something that made complete sense to himself and almost no sense to anyone else.

[Professor Carlyle]

"Yeah? It's tragic really, what the hell are they thinking?" David commented vaguely, waving his hand around as if to illustrate his point before he sighed heavily and left it at that. It really didn't do him any good to digress about his dad, Deatheating or fathers in general... he tended to rant and only make himself, and the person on the receiving end of the rant, feel worse. Chuckling then at Kevin's sarcasm, he shrugged lightly, "Just being honest and hey, it means people always fussing around you... which I suppose may be a bad thing, aye? It does have its positives though because you can eat all the rubbish food you want and drink as many beers as you like and you won't get a beer belly or get fat," he remarked light heartedly before adding in a mock sombre manner, "Of course, I am in no way advocating excessive alcohol consumption in order to test this body-type theory."

"I know, I know, you probably don't like all the mushy caring cra-I mean 'rubbish' but it's true so-" he trailed off simply with a fleeting sincere smile before he returned to his usual overly cheery self, sensing that Kevin really wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of other people caring about him.

Smiling in amusement, David replied good humouredly, "Dunno, it's worked well for my brother and sister, they seem to quite like being legally bound to someone else by way of a huge fancy ceremony. Marriage is probably good and all but there's the small matter of having to find a potential wife that isn't crazy... or only agreeing to it so they can get leave to stay in the country," he joked easily, leaning back comfortably in his chair and smiling then as Kevin said Chloe's name oddly. "If I'm allowed a moment to be solely shallow then yes, she is not just cute but beautiful, but you'd probably expect me to say that I suppose. She isn't French, she's rather English. I know how un-Scottish of me to fratenise with the English, the enemy!" he chuckled, his laughter deepening somewhat as he asked, brow furrowed, "What on earth is 'cute in a French sort of way'?"