Survival Of The Fittest

Astrid looked at Mel out of the corner of her eye, and glowered. Depending on who you talked to, and how likely you were to listen to malicious rumours, Astrid's glower never truly went away. It occasionally got interrupted or sidetracked, but it was always there, just waiting for something to set it off. According to legend, it was even the natural state of her face whilst she was sleeping, but finding that out was a privilege very few were given, thank you very much.

Maybe her previous statement of Mel had been incorrect? There were a couple of new ideas floating around in Astrid's head now. Either the girl was an uncomplicated genius, or she actually was complex but a total moron. It wasn't as if either option was preferable, because no matter what, it still left Astrid with a girl that aggravated the shit out of her, but not understanding how she worked kinda vexed her.

"No, it's not for a report, I don't think we're going to be studying anything near that period for the rest of the year. Do you not pay attention in class?" Astrid finally tore her vision away from her books to look straight at Mel, glower still very much there. She already knew the answer to that, which was a resounding ‘No'. But the longer she stayed in Mel's presence, the more her resolve to stay passive got sorely tested. It always happened. And whenever it did, Mel would always manage to get the upper hand in some way.

It was a horribly vicious cycle, and one of Astrid's own creation, not that she'd ever realise that.

"I've always enjoyed medieval history. There's always something new and different to find out about, it's just such an alien lifestyle in comparison to how we live now. Yet at the same time, it's also interesting to look at how similar certain things are, between now and then. The whole time period spans for so long, and across so many countries too; there's an almost endless number of things to discover."

Astrid's cheeks took on a slight pink hue as she realised she'd been rambling more than a little. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, before re-affixing her scowl and turning back to her books.

"So, yeah, that's why I'm reading this. And if you're really interested, yes, Robin Hood did exist, but no, he wasn't everyone's favourite dashing rogue leaping around in green clothes and tights. His ideology was more ‘steal from the rich, give to yourself, slaughter anyone who tries to argue with you,' most likely."

"Sounds like you," Mel said. "The slaughtering part, anyway."

She had not missed the blush that marked that Astrid had been talking about something she really cared about - more than arguing with others over the right way to do things, maybe even more than glaring. Mel filed it away in her tiny two-inch by two-inch mental folder that contained Astrid's softer moments, and then continued on with her needling.

"Astrid of Locksley," she mused, her grin reduced to a softly curving smirk. "Legend, folk hero... Without dashing, roguery, or tights. Like, to be honest though, I think you should at least keep the clothes on."

Even just thinking about her willful misinterpretation of Astrid's explanation was suddenly far too amusing. Stealing from the rich, keeping it, and doing it all while bare naked - that was an alternate history of Robin Hood she could subscribe to. It'd look great in the history books. In movies.

Mel Brooks' Men in Tights? Old-ish comedy movie, not for kids. Mel Beckett's Men Out of Tights? Definitely not appropriate for younger audiences.

"I mean- I'm sure Robin must have cut a... striking figure when he burst through the trees- hahaha!"

She tried hard to stifle the laughter - she really did - since they were in a library and all, but every time she tried to compose herself, she caught a glimpse of the mental image or Astrid's face and burst straight out in giggles again. She almost laughed herself off the chair before she could even stand up.

Tears in her eyes, she gave Astrid a wave and trotted herself out of the library before the librarian could round on her for the dual crimes of eating in the library and disturbing the peace.

((Melanie Beckett continued elsewhere))

It was times like these that Astrid realised Mel was probably amongst the people closest to her at Cochise, by sheer virtue of having spent enough time around each other to know the other's quirks, and that fucking infuriated her.

Because, come on. Astrid had gone on a rare tangent about something she actually cared about when it hadn't been (at least in her mind) strictly necessary to the conversation at hand, a luxury she afforded to very few people aside from Sophie. And what did she get from it? A slightly more respectful response from Mel? Some further interest in what Astrid had been talking about? An actually sensible, civilised fucking conversation?

No, she got to be compared to a brutal vagabond with a penchant for decapitation, then given the delightful mental image of herself as a heroic rogue and champion of the poor and downtrodden – okay, that one wasn't bad in the slightest – and of a naked Robin Hood gallivanting about on his merry way, which completely destroyed the good karma Mel had just gained.

Astrid watched Mel give her a cheerful wave and leave the library with a look of utter disbelief on her face. That girl was just… she was… just…

"Fucking unbelievable," Astrid said under her breath, leaning back in her chair, both of which were just a smidge too loud for the librarian, who fixed Astrid with a steely glare and shushed her.

Astrid tried to get back to her books, but it felt now that her brain had been sitting on a hot plate for an hour or so. Nothing made sense and thinking was hard. She snapped the topmost book shut with a sigh, before packing up and heading for the exit, after flipping off the librarian when her back was turned.

Today had been fucking dumb.

((Astrid Tate continued in A Salad of Anger))