FLU EVENT: Fail Ninja (Asher)

[Samuel Rixon]

Common sense wasn't exactly something Samuel Rixon had in abundance.

As usual, today he had made a number of bad decisions. Namely, he'd given up on attending class in favor of something much more fun, and smelled just a little like pot. Not that that was unusual in any way. That was just Sam.

He'd decided, after having a long conversation with Iguana, that class wasn't interesting enough to attend. So, scooping up the little gecko, he'd set the creature on his shoulder like a scaly parrot and headed off to adventure. He ignored his phone as it beeped at him. Most likely irate messages from Ember, yelling at him for ditching class yet again.

Honestly, at this rate, he'd be lucky to graduate by the time he was thirty.

But that didn't matter, because he was having fun. Despite what his teachers had tried to tell him, ditching class was fun, and he wasn't about to quit anytime soon.

Finding an adventure wasn't exactly difficult within the old school walls. Especially when so many of the students and staff were locked up in classrooms and offices. It wasn't like he was going to get caught. Not with everyone else with their backs turned. He grinned to Iguana. "This is gonna be awesome."

Exactly what was so awesome, only he knew.

Like the (fail)ninja he was, he crept down the hallway, intent on going where no man had ever dared to before.

No, not the girls' washroom. He'd been there.

No. The staff lounge.

Because this was a brilliant idea.

"C'mon Iggy," he said in a stage-whisper, as anyone that knew him knew that he was incapable of being quiet for any length of time. He was pretty sure even Vincent hadn't explored this small corner of the school yet. "Hells yes, I win," he cheered as he pushed the door open. No one was going to catch him. He was invincible.

[Asher Bastien]

Of all the people that could've figured today as an excellent time for trouble, it had to be Rixon.

It wasn't that Asher disliked him; there were some people who you could tell were just full of seething malice, and there were others who, while absolutely and unerringly aggravating, didn't do what they did because they wanted to cause harm (usually it was because they were just plain stupid or had boundary issues or something). In his past experience with the guy, he didn't get the vibe that Sammy was necessarily a deep-down bad kid - at least not the type of bad that was going to go on to develop into some fetishist mass-murderer that killed in a dress or anything like that. Loud kids weren't the ones you had to worry about on the creepy scale.

Nevertheless, he DID have to worry about him when he broke the rules (which was exasperatingly often) because it was his job to make sure that he didn't. Ash had already failed that part of his job when he glanced up from the cup of tea he'd been nursing in the corner of the room as the door creaked open; and if that wasn't any other indication that it was a student and not a faculty member, the 'Hells yes, I win' was a tipoff. Yes, Sammy, you win. What's behind door number three? Why, your favorite red-headed security guard! What else has he won, Gloria? A fabulous trip to Mr. Claude Harris's Office! Thanks for playing Stay The Hell Out Of The Staff Lounge, tune in next time.

"Rixon," Ash warned, setting his cup onto a table and fighting back a sniffle; word around the street was that there was a bug going around, and he was pretty sure he'd caught it despite having felt only slightly off that morning. However, Sam didn't need to know that he had a nose running like a faucet and would probably end up snotting all over himself if he was stuck running after him this time. Careful to enunciate and not doing so well, he continued, "Turn aroud and leave. Dere's nothing to see here." At this point Ash had to clear a frog from his throat, and seeing little movement on the student's side as to actually following direction, he crossed the room to hold onto the edge of the door, fully prepared to force him out of the room if he didn't about-face. BE CAREFUL ASH THERE'S PROBABLY A LAWSUIT IF YOU COUGH ON HIM. Or, you know, slam the door on his hand or something. Lots and lots of lawsuits. "I'm serious. Aren'd you s'posed t'be in class ride now?"

Granted, he probably would've been a hell of a lot more intimidating if he didn't just look miserable and sick. Awww. Poor widdle snoogie-oogums.

[Samuel Rixon]

Of course it was Rixon. It was always Rixon. If there was trouble happening, it was one of two people. Samuel Rixon, or Vincent Verax. But because Vincent was off being a douche somewhere, and this was all about manly pride, Sam was going at this alone.

Not that that made it any better.

If anything, Sam was going to grow up to be exactly what he was now. A stoned loser with idiot friends that pulled idiot stunts like this. Only older. Really, he wasn’t going to be anywhere close to graduation anytime soon. Poor Asher would likely still be chasing a thirty year old Sam down the hall for yet another prank gone awry.

In the grand scheme of things, was breaking into the staff lounge REALLY SO BAD?

... Actually, yeah. It kind of was.

He hadn’t actually expected to find anyone in the lounge. They were all supposed to be... y’know... teaching. Otherwise it was like they were skipping class, and that made them just a little hypocritical now, didn’t it? ... No. No it didn’t, but Sam liked to think it did. He froze like a deer in the headlights at the voice.

Oh great. Just great. Of all the people in all of Hammel to run into. He’d had brushes with this particular security guard many times in the past. He wasn’t exactly fun. So much so, that he actually entertained the idea of turning around and lea –

Was that a sniffle?

Oh em gee, the dude was sick. Cue mischief making music, this boy’s about to make a scene. Sam leaned against the wall, surprisingly elegantly moving out of the way, saving himself the pain (and the lawsuit!) of any crushed limbs. “Naaaaw. Make me.” Oh, good move, stonerboy. Challenge the security guard. “I see pleeeeenty.” Like the coffee machine. And the vending machine. Both of which he scampered over to investigate. “Aww fuck dude! Y’ guys got MARS BARS IN HERE.” He dug in his pockets to no avail, before turning to look at Ash, a hopeful grin on his face. “Y’ got a dollar?”

Yes Sam, I’m sure he has a dollar and I’m sure he’s willing to part with it just to fuel your idiocy with sugar. No. All the while he investigated, he did his best to keep just out of Asher’s reach. “Y’ totes sick, aren’tcha bro?” He grinned. “Sucks, don’t it?” Please, everyone marvel at the fact the boy has any sort of grasp on the English language.

“Soooooo. This is actually kinda lame. Where’s the high tech computers and massage chairs and junk?” Then he realized that he was being asked a question. “... Y- ... Nooo. I have a study period.” Lies, he’s meant to be in English. “Aren’t youuuu s’pposed t’ be in class?”

Head, meet desk. Repeatedly.

[Asher Bastien]

Ohhhh, if looks could kill. For a moment, Mr. Bastien consoled himself with the mental image of Sammy Rixon's head exploding (and felt bad about it shortly after) and chose instead to cross his arms over his chest, watching as - of course - the kid didn't listen and waltzed in like he owned the place. Christ. If only he'd waited ten minutes, then Ash would've been back on his rounds and he wouldn't have to deal with him when he wasn't feeling up to it. Oh wait... Ash never felt up to dealing with Rixon, that's right.

Nonetheless, he started when he realized that Sammy had hit it on the head that he was ill, and he frowned. "It's Fibe. FINB. FINBUH-" poor Ashypie, couldn't even say 'fine' properly. "It's not a big deal." Oh no. NO ASH, DON'T EVEN GIVE HIM THAT. DON'T SHOW WEAKNESS, SHOW HOW MANLY AND VIRILE YOU STILL ARE. GO BENCH PRESS MII OR SOMETHING.

Woooooow that came out wrong.

Aren't youuuu s'pposed t' be in class? Cue rolled eyes. "I work here, I don't have class." Ash debated whether or not to go over there and grab him by the scruff of the neck like he was misbehaving five year old, but Sammy wasn't exactly a tiny little thing, and he had his inhibitions about, you know, actually touching him. He didn't know where he'd been. Settling for a temporary fix, he blanked out the vending machine in white - just a thin enough layer to obscure the treats behind the glass - and added, "It's oub of order. There's a machine in the student lounge, go use that one." Oh yes, because it was going to be that easy. Right. Let me know when you get out of La-La-Land, Ash, I'll be over here waiting by the tasers.

It was obvious that he knew that nice tactics weren't going to effective in the least, but it never hurt to hope. At least not when your head felt like it was going to implode on itself, which it did NOW, and he felt himself getting more and more likely to die of frustration as the seconds wore on (is that even a thing? If it isn't, then it should totally be named after Sammy in his honor). "Huh," he lied seemingly to himself as he feigned interest out the door, although it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that his volume was specifically calibrated to carry over to the kid. "A bunch of New England Patriot cheerleaders are streaking down th' hallways. That's weird."

Okay - dumb plan, but still totally worth a shot.

[Samuel Rixon]

Quite honestly, if anyone deserved to have their head explode, it was probably Sam. He was infuriating to most of the staff members, and caused a lot of trouble. While Asher watched him, he casually pulled out his phone to snap a few pictures, spinning to take one of the very un-amused security guard. Hey, no one would believe him without proof. As long as one Mr. Bastien didn’t confiscate the phone, that is.

“Are you suuuuure? Sounds serious. You might diiiiiiiiiiie. You should go home and sleep.” Yes, because that was what Sam did when he was sick. Not. “Hammel’s fiiiine without you!” Sam, who, exactly, are you trying to convince? If he wasn’t careful, he’d have a bigger problem on his hands. Either a visit with the head of security (bad), a visit with Sean (worse), or a visit with the headmaster (red alert). Not that those consequences actually crossed his tiny little mind.

“You could!” Some powers required extra training, even after graduation. He knew that, because he was routinely threatened with it. Obviously, it wasn’t of huge interest to him, because he wandered off in the direction of the vending machine. He knew a little bit about Asher, simply because he’d encountered him and his fairy ass power before. Seeing as he’d seen the treats just a moment ago, he frowned and banged his hands against the glass. “Duuuuude. Quit using your rainbow ass fairy power! ‘s not fair! An’ the one in the lounge sucks.” Granted, he wasn’t supposed to be in the student lounge either. He was supposed to be in English. But no need for Asher to know that, right?

Nice wasn’t blanking out the vending machine, now was it? Really, Ash, you should know better by now. Sam wasn’t going anywhere unless it was by force, and even that could be dubious. There was no telling what an irritated Sammy being manhandled would do. But it would probably involve profanity. Or fire. Or both. But the little lie caught his attention. Turning away from the blanked out machine, he craned his neck to peek out into the hallway. “Really?” Oh look Ash, you’re holding his attention for more than three seconds. Congratulati – “Aww dude. Didn’t your mom tell you not to lie? ‘s not cool.” With that, the pyro marched over to the couches (that were in far better condition than the ones in the student lounge) and flopped down. “So. What’s up?”

Ash. Kill him. Please.

[Event !]

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