Balls, balls and more balls. (Oriel)

[Greg Mackenzie]

“To make this class a bit more interesting – and get you lazy bums actually exercising –, we’re going to switch things up a bit. We’ll be having a volleyball tournament – I’d be dividing you into brackets where you’d be competing, and the top teams of each bracket will be exempt from the practical exam as well as get automatic As in this course. Be the top team of the class and you’d get the coveted A+. Sound easy? Good. Now go choose your partners. Be lucky I at least gave you this choice.”

Greg couldn’t help but laugh at the collective groan that erupted when his gym teacher told him of the plan. Unlike most kids, he actually found the plan novel and actually rather interesting. Then again, he’s what some people might call a jock – he plays at least three sports in a varsity-team level – and competition was what he lived for.

The only thing the telepath didn’t like about it was the part that they had to choose their own partners. Everyone seemed to know each other, and Greg just didn’t have the time to talk to anyone. And ‘sides, with stakes that high, he didn’t think he’d go with a complete stranger too had the situation been reversed. Even if said stranger seemed like he could bench press twice his body weight.

At the risk of being ostracized by everyone for asking help from their teacher, Greg slowly walked toward his teacher, hands on his pockets and head down low. He was just about to say something when he saw a guy, roughly his age (maybe a few years older?) walk out of the locker room. Could he be…?

Greg didn’t even wait for him to grab even a stray thought from the guy. “Hi. I’m Greg. You’re in Mr. Orshan’s phys ed class too right? Want to be partners? I think we have a great shot of winning this thing, I just know it, don’t you agree?” He gave the boy two thumbs up as well as a very cheesy grin, completely ignoring the fact that the boy might not have heard what transpired just five minutes after.

ooc:
Herpaderp. Sorry it took forever for me to write this. And it's a little longer than I anticipated. :3. Thanks for understanding Pheli. And hopefully I didn't do anything bad.
- Peanut

[Deleted]

Oriel was running late to class. No biggie, it was just gym class and he didn't give two shits about it anyway. Again, it was just gym class and it was quite possibly the easiest course he'd could ever hope to take. Climb a rope? Sure! Run 10 laps? No problem! If there was one thing that Oriel had was physical fitness. The only problem he really had was teamwork, but it wasn't his fucking fault if the other students didn't want to involve him in retorted team sports like basketball, or baseball, or whatever the hell else the teacher thought was supposed to qualify as relevant to your future.

So if they weren't going to bother trying to involve him anyway, then what was the point of showing up on time? He'd probably get yet another detention under his belt, but that was hardly a punishment at this point. Oriel had enough detention to last him the rest of his high school career.

He stepped out onto the gym floor from the locker room, decked out in black basketball shorts and a white t-shirt with his long hair tied back and out of his face, having completely missed the announcement the teacher had just given people, and started circling along the edge of the floor, watching and trying to figure out what it was he was supposed to be doing. That's when he was approached by a jolly Mr. McDorky Pants, talking and smiling at Oriel like he just stepped out of an episode of Cheers.

Who are you and why are you talking to me? he thought behind a glare that sent the same message. Plus he had no idea what this "Greg" was talking about. But he figured he could humor the Greg Brady wannabe and put on an equally cheesy grin. "Gee, Greg, that sounds swell. There's no "I" in "team", after all!" With that, Oriel dropped back down to his scowl and snarled. He glanced out to the gymnasium at the rest of the groups then back to this dork. "The fuck's going on anyway?" he asked.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg didn’t need to be a telepath to pick the sarcasm that’s laced every and all words that came out of the other boy’s mouth. And yeah, he realized that he might’ve been a little too excited and got a little too weird.

But could you blame him? Sports were probably the only thing he’s good at. It’s finally his time to shine and maybe even be known by at least half the class. Attention is power and the telepath would want some, if not all, of it.

He’s not going to call Oriel out though. Not for his sarcastic remarks, or his lame nickname (Jolly McDorky Pants? What are we, twelve?). He did learn his lesson from the naked hallway incident less than a week ago. “Mr. Orshan’s made this term’s class something like a tournament. Starting next week, we’d be battling in teams of two. Top team gets A+, top four gets As. Losers have to suffer through a physical/practical exam,” he explained as he absentmindedly played with the volleyball in his hand, the jolliness in his voice slowly dying down. It hasn’t died down to the point that it’s almost identical to Oriel’s grump, but the campiness was definitely gone. “He made it sound so hard. I’m new so I have no idea how much of a hardass he really is.”

“So are we just going to stand here looking pretty? ‘Cause I see a team that’s playing against no one and I think they might just be easy to beat.” Not really waiting for the other boy to answer, he began walking to the said pair’s direction. “Muffin-butt!” he yelled, “You coming or not?”

Direct information digging was something Greg has yet to fully master, which was why he’s actually surprised he managed to grab the other boy’s name perfectly. (Or he’d hope that was his name. Would explain why he’s such a grouch. I’d be a dick too if my parents named me like that). He also got a few other things he wasn’t looking for – like Oriel’s tattoo and the pain that came with having it done – that he felt a little light on his feet and fell on his knees.

Both from the use of his power and that sensation of having needles run down his back.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as he tried to compose himself.

[/justify]

[Deleted]

Oriel was fit. He just didn't like sports. Stuff that didn't require teamwork was his thing. Which was why he wasn't too pleased about the prospect of doing a team kind of sport. His face turned into a look of pure disgust as this Mr. McDorky Pants(No, we were five) explained what the activity was. "Screw this. I'll go through the exams." They'd be no problem for him. Why should he have to try so hard for something that he could get easy in the first place. Gym was one of those classes that he never actually did poorly in.

"Nope. I'm gonna sit," he clarified when Greg decided to try and make the decision for him. Oriel kept walking and took a seat on the bleachers, pitching his feet up on the seats beneath him and eyeing the other groups scattered around the gym. "And don't call me Muffin-butt. That name is reserved for my special someone." That was half of the pet name that he and Phoenix called each other on a regular basis. Squishy Muffin-Butt.

Oriel had no intention of doing anything until the instructor finally got on his case about it. So he continued to lounge for a bit until something else happened. And that didn't take long. Oriel started up when Greg fell to his knees. Oriel might've been a dick, but he wasn't about to leave someone alone who needed help. He hopped down from the bleachers to Greg's side and gently placed his hand on the other boy's back. "Oy! Brady! The fuck's wrong?" If he didn't answer and if it took to long, Oriel was inclined to just punch the guy and carry him over his shoulder to the infirmary. Hell, at least that'd get him out of gym.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Of course he’d be left with the delinquent. (Nothing personal, Greg says. If it were any other subject, he’d totally be doing what Oriel was doing. It’s just that sport is his baby and he doesn’t like losing. Like, ever). He should’ve grown some balls and talked to that Italian dude who stood to his right when class started. The guy’s playing in one of the courts to his left and damn, that boy can move. His stance, his control, and the power behind those spikes – they’d win for sure.

If only he wasn’t so hot. That scruff is just ugh.

“Oh come on. It’s a practical exam. No one aces those things.” At least Greg never did. And he’d like to believe he’s among the best of the best in his classes, physically at least. Then again there might be those with powers that let them run fifty kilometres in five minutes, do a hundred sit-ups and pull-ups, touch their toes and maintain the position for three minutes, and then ace an Algebra test afterwards. Fuck those kids. “You really are a ray of sunshine, aren’t you MuffinButt.” Until the telepath could think of a better nickname – and he really was thinking of a good one, since Oriel’s just been giving him great ones and he can’t be outdone – the nickname stays. Unfortunately.

Greg couldn’t help but smile slightly when Oriel rushed to his side. At least he’s not a total butthole.

He almost told Oriel exactly what happened – power acting up, accidentally got into his head and felt the pain of the tattoo – but decided not to last minute. He’s playing a delicate tug-of-war with Oriel and revealing all his cards at once might not be advantageous for him in the long run. “Gotcha there,” he said, forcing a smile on his face as he stood up, “Now you have no choice.” He linked arms with the boy and tried to drag him towards the said free court. “You guys still are free right?" 

Unfortunately, with his powers still technically on – they’re on the process of turning ‘off’ after his use – this meant that skin contact (arm-linking, in this case) meant that the boy got more of Oriel’s memories.

That time he scared a boy named Jack who was drinking with his friend Lux. 

That time when he fought with his lab partner – a Korean with white hair who named him Oreo. 

Oh, and that Oriel’s friends with a snake shifter.

God and he thought this school couldn’t get any weirder.

This, unfortunately, made his grip on Oriel weaker than usual, and well, heaven be damned. Fuck, I hate this stupid side effect.

[Deleted]

A practical exam for the physically fit suited Oriel just fine. The boy had run across practically across the city non-stop when he was still out of shape last year. He'd spent a greater part of his childhood climbing fences and the sides of buildings in the boroughs of New York City while trying to get away from cops and angry street thugs. He had his b-boying back then and his dancing now. There was no reason for Oriel to think he couldn't get high marks on the practical exams.

Oriel snarled at Professor Cuntsworth, not appreciating the use of that nickname and only spurning him to get the better of him….if he actually cared. This guy's banter was pathetic and wasn't worth engaging in.

But when Captain Douche-Cracker revealed his "act" to get Oriel to get off his ass, Oriel only scowled, about to make a quick about face right back to the bleachers. Unfortunately, the jock pulled a fast one on Oriel and pulled him along against his will. What Greg didn't know, was that Oriel did not like being touched by people he was unacquainted with. "Oy!" he shouted as he was dragged along, struggling against the invasive boy with a fury. "Hands off, you fucking ass-licker!"

Oriel felt the other boy's grip weaken and he pushed the guy away, pulling himself back and ready to go at him again if he needed to.