Survival Of The Fittest

((Astrid Tate continued from Skeletons and Spaghetti))

Astrid wasn't happy.

As anyone who knew her could attest to, this was a total shock and absolutely not to be expected at all.

She gently reached up and around to touch her right shoulder blade. It still felt weird, slightly unnatural, the way something like a cast or even a piece of sticking plaster did against your skin even after it had been removed. She could feel it there every time she moved slightly, and it was driving her fucking mad. She made a noise of disgruntlement, leaned back in her chair, and rubbed her forehead. She sighed.

This was the price you paid for impulse decisions, she figured. She'd wanted a second tattoo for a while now, and she'd known exactly what she wanted; there was a tattoo parlour nearby which excelled specifically at animal tattoos, and the second she'd seen the fox drawings the artist could produce, she was instantly in love. No, the tattoo itself wasn't the problem, although if a single person asked her what she'd think when she was 80, like they had done with the one on her wrist, she didn't think she could be held accountable for her actions.

The problem was that she had picked a pretty awful time to actually get it done. It had slipped her mind that getting it done with soccer practice the next day might be a bit of an issue, and sure enough, the bandages and wraps had been irritating enough to prevent her from taking part; she'd been advised not to remove them, after all. Coach had been more surprised than angry or annoyed, given how rarely Astrid missed anything related to soccer, but Astrid had been forced to experience the rare feeling of being annoyed at herself.

Maybe that would have been okay in and of itself, but of course, the next few days had to be blazing hot, even by Kingman standards. The guy had told her not to expose the tattoo to direct sunlight for at least a couple of weeks, but at the same time, she really didn't feel like wearing anything but tank tops for the near future. It was that stubbornness shining through once again, but given there would be no serious repercussions to Astrid doing so, it wasn't likely she was going to change her tune.

So despite the weather outside being glorious, Astrid was spending her time indoors whenever she could. It wasn't exactly unpleasant; it was still hot, but the combination of tank top and the slight coolness of the library meant she wasn't dying. And it meant she could study some of the history books that had caught her eye in the past, too. But every now and again, she would look outside and wish that she was kicking a ball about, or chilling in the pool, or just relaxing outside.

Whatever. What was done was done. The ink was almost completely fixed into her skin, so just a few more days and-

"Ow, motherfuc-"

Astrid winced as she turned a page and sliced open her finger. She placed her finger in her mouth to stem the blood flow and stifle her curse, but the damage had already been done. She clenched her fist and tried to control her breathing.

Once again, Astrid had been transformed into a ticking time bomb.

((Maxim Kehrenbrink continued from Mortal Coil))

Maxim was in anything but high spirits when he was about to enter the library. His striking pair of bushy eyebrows was furrowed and forming a frown as usual, but unlike most other times, he was actually aware of it. He was carrying a small bag under his arm, containing two books, only one of which he intended to read.

The flaxen-haired boy stopped for a brief moment, in order to catch his breath. He hated taking longer walks when the sun shone, it made him virtually overheat in almost no time. Gasping for air, he leaned against the entrance door, using one hand to support his weight.

Papa just had to start renovating today, couldn't have waited until I finish my book, nein! Nothing but bad luck for me all week.

His father, Joachim Kehlenbrink, had indeed began working on the house of Maxim's godmother Joan on that very day. According to him, this had been overdue for years and being the proud and diligent man he was, he had vehemently refused to hire craftsmen to do the job. As a result, the entire house was now downright drowning in almost every loud noise imaginable.

Maxim finally began opening the door leading into the library's interior, gently at first, then he grew impatient within a mere second and pushed it open with force. As soon as he felt the cool air from within on his skin, his mood brightened up considerably. He felt at the books in his bag, worried that he might have forgotten to pack them for a second. To his content, his fear was for naught.

The book, or rather paperback he was all too excited to finish reading was the seventh volume of the Skullduggery Pleasant series, which had enthralled him more than all of the previous entries of the saga. He had been a measly 100 pages from finishing it when his father had started his vociferous work. Needless to say, it was an impossibility for him to enjoy his reading matter under said circumstances and thus, he had been forced to take a walk of twenty minutes under the burning sun, all to get to the only other place he knew he could read in peace at: Beale Library.

However, his bag also contained one more book, namely a textbook he was required to read for his upcoming exam in political geography. Only that Maxim was already very aware of the fact that he was not going to read it. He had merely brought the textbook with him to ease the pangs of guilt that he couldn't manage to subdue. And what better pastime to expel the thoughts of having to study than reading his favorite kind of novel?

The flaxen-haired boy had stood there in silent for a few moments now, pondering whether or not to give the textbook a look after all. He chose not to. Instead, he decided to find a conveniently placed chair to sit on and immerse himself back into the world of Skullduggery Pleasant. He looked at the one that stood closest to him.

Toll. Of course it's right next to the window and of course the sun is shining directly onto it. Just my luck.

Ill-humored, he continued his quest for a comfy seat. He found another chair.

Taken. To hell with those simpletons loitering around here.

His mood only got worse when he continued to only discover chairs that were either already occupied, or contaminated by sunlight. Just when he thought his search had been for naught and he was ready to course to the high heavens, his hazel eyes spotted one more empty seat.

He would have immediately jumped straight onto it if not for the fact that the chair was placed directly next to another sitting person. Not just any, in fact. Maxim was certain that he had seen the person, a noticeably tall girl, before. He had never spoken to her in person nor did he know her name, but he had noticed her walking past him in the hallways of Cochise numerous times before. Having found her presence rather imposing in the past, and he being the easily intimidated boy that he was, Maxim was all too reluctant to simply walk up to her and sit on the chair adjacent to hers.

He stood there for a few more moments, then considered the terrible possibility of someone coming in and getting seated on that last available chair before he did. It was decided. He would not wait until someone else got up or until the sun changed position.

Deep breaths, Junge. You got this.

His palms already sweaty, he started walking towards the girl. Coming to a halt about four feet away from her, he nervously cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Excuse me, uh...Miss?"

Smooth, Maxim, totally how one would normally talk.

"Do you...well, do you mind if I take a moment of your time?"

After some foraging around in her pockets and her bag, Astrid managed to find a solution, of sorts, to her papercut problem. A spare tissue wrapped around her finger and secured with an elastic band she'd dug up from the depths of her bag. A little bit fiddly and it meant she wasn't as dexterous for the time being, but it beat spilling droplets of blood over the table and her work. Problem solved.

However, it also created a brand new problem, in that it looked fucking stupid. This was probably even worse, and of course, there was nothing she could do about it without unravelling the solution to her previous problem. And on top of that, the phantom itch from the tattoo on her shoulder blades refused to go away.

Everything that could annoy Astrid today, was annoying Astrid.

As if to compound the issue, some guy was hovering nearby and trying to talk to her. She'd passed by him in the hallway a few times, and it always amazed her how someone could stand to look so unkempt all the time. This, he'd stayed firmly off of her radar until now. She'd seen him wandering around the library as well, out of the corner of her vision, and she'd attempted to avoid eye contact. But all that looked like it was for nothing, now.

Astrid rolled her eyes at Maxim's question, not at all bothered that her annoyance was plain to see. Ugh. She was probably going to regret this, if the guy's personality matched his appearance, but whatever. It wasn't like her day could get much worse. Probably.

"Fine, whatever. Knock yourself out."

((Melanie Beckett: Pregame Start))

That was right about when Mel walked up and plopped herself in the contested chair, her backpack unceremoniously landing on the floor next to her.

Hey, you snooze, you lose.

"Astrid!" She glanced over a bit, grinned. "What's up, Maxim? Funny finding her in a library instead of out and about, right?"

She didn't say more for now. They seemed to be in the middle of a conversation and she wasn't feeling like butting in too much without some context. She'd always thought of them both as tall and standoffish - although if she figured him right, Maxim was more just quiet than unfriendly - so this was unlikely to be idle talk. Not Sadies talk, obviously, but that didn't narrow it down much.

Mel bent down, opened her backpack, and then leaned back in the chair and began to peel the banana she'd retrieved.

"Fine, whatever. Knock yourself out."

Not the kind of polite answer Maxim had hoped for, but well, it was an answer at least. An affirmative one as well. And after all, he didn't need to try and further socialize with the girl, right? No need to approach the unapproachable.  He just needed to sit down, keep his mouth shut and let the writing and wit of his favorite author do the rest for him. In theory, at least.

Just when Maxim had opened his mouth to give thanks - in an overly flowery manner of speech, no doubt - his plans were spontaneously shattered and then ground into fine dust. He barely had time to even turn his head before the object of his desire was swiftly taken by another person, out of nowhere, like a breeze.

"Hey, wha-" He didn't even manage to finish a single line of expressing his surprise, instead, he just stood there, dumbfounded and looking a proper Charlie. So much for things going his way for once. His streak of terrible luck just didn't know when to end.

Just another day in paradise...

Only now did he take his time to properly examine the intruder, who was sitting with her back turned to him at the moment. Something familiar about that curly, brown hair. Something, something, history class...

The girl turned her head and at last, the penny dropped. Melanie, yes, that was her name. Pleasant creature, as far as he could remember. He had only fleetingly interacted with her in the past, but she had managed to leave some sort of impression on him nonetheless. Probably because she had been one of the few of his classmates he didn't instantly feel nervous around. Something about her aura, maybe.

She had addressed him just now, asked him something, but he had once again been too busy with his own thoughts to catch the full sentence. Maxim felt guilty for a second, but then noticed her expression, which, to him, indicated that she was not expecting him to answer. Kind of a gamble to assume that, but it was better to roll with it than to ask her to repeat her sentence.

That aside, he had a more dire problem at the moment. It only took him another swift glance around himself to see that all the other chairs were still taken. Yippie. That obviously meant he had to take on the challenge of somehow managing to reclaim his rightful throne, he had to actually win through this time. In other words, he could abandon all hope.

"Hey, uh...Melanie? That is what you are called, correct?"

Drop the stiff language. Get a little determination in there.

He cleared his throat, then took a small step forward, just about enough to not invade any kind of comfort zone, or so he thought, at least. "I don't mean to - well, to burst your bubble, I guess you could say, but I think I was the first one to ask for permission to sit there. And technically, you didn't ask at all, so..." He coughed into his paw once more, an awkward attempt to cover his anxiety. "But...in any case, good to see you, I guess..."

There was a saying that wise old men said in this situation, a saying that succinctly summed up Astrid's feelings right now. A saying passed down through the annals of time, known only as ‘What in the fuck is going on?'

Instead of just taking the seat like, y'know, a normal person would have done, Maxim started flapping his mouth again, probably preparing to talk about something Astrid literally could not care less about. Fortunately, he was prevented from doing so by someone rushing in and sitting on the chair that he had claimed. Unfortunately, said someone happened to be Mel Beckett.

Now, even Astrid had to admit that Mel wasn't the worst person she knew at Kingman, not by a long shot. However, the two had some pretty differing views on a lot of different subjects; most notably, how one should approach their schoolwork. From what Astrid could see, Mel's approach was not to approach it. She was far too lackadaisical for Astrid's tastes, and she hadn't exactly been subtle about that view.

However, this didn't seem to deter Mel. If anything, it only encouraged her to seek out Astrid whenever she possibly could. If she was trying to annoy Astrid as much as possible, well then, congratulations; she had passed with flying colours. Mel's grin was met with a stare that could pierce through sheet metal.

Maxim finally figured out what he wanted to say, and started rambling on. After about a second, Astrid could feel a headache coming on. She rubbed her forehead, and rolled her eyes. She'd known she was going to regret this, and now, here she was. Regretting this. Might as well make the most of it, or try to anyway.

"Guys, it's a chair. No-one has dibs on it, or their name engraved in the goddamn thing. You really wanna sit here so badly, you can fight amongst yourselves. Just leave me out of it. Don't drag me into a stupid argument."

Astrid sighed, then continued.

"As for why I'm not outside like I want to be, it's all thanks to this."

Astrid turned, shifting her hair to the side, and pointed a thumb at the tattoo on her shoulder blade, slightly obscured by the strap of her top but still mostly visible.

"Guy said I shouldn't expose it to direct sunlight for a few days, at least. So, here I am, stuck indoors. It's annoying, but better this than having it be faded and shitty looking."

"Not a bad idea, y'know?" Mel traced the back of the chair with one fingernail, taking a bite out of her banana as she did so. Chewed. Swallowed. "Could carve my initials - go all Zorro on it. Swish!"

That was a joke, of course. She was probably breaking enough library rules already.

To be honest, she didn't remember Maxim asking for the chair in the first place, but hell, she hadn't been listening. She wasn't going to complain when the sanctity of dibs was on the line, despite anything Astrid said.

That glare, by the way? Made dropping in totally worth it. She'd never known exactly why Astrid always seemed so annoyed with her - but this was all in good fun. Maybe someday she'd get to the bottom of it all, discuss some soccer, broker a peace. Maybe not.

Right, right, the chair.

Mel stood up, walked a few steps... before plopping her rear end down on the other side of the table, on the table itself. She wasn't picky.

"Go ahead," she said, pivoting to face the two of them again.

As for Astrid's tattoo, she had to admit that caught her attention. For the briefest of moments, Mel leaned in, her free hand impulsively lifting as if to brush aside the strap of Astrid's top just a little bit to get a better look - then she thought better of it. She sat back, eyes still on the tattoo, her banana almost forgotten in her grasp.

"That's a sweet tattoo." She had never felt the urge to get one for herself, mostly because of their tendency to give a negative impression in the job market, but she appreciated the artistry, the ink. Tattoos got a bad rap sometimes. Perhaps the cause was the perceived low status of its customers, or the unskilled efforts that were publicly seen and mocked. In some ways, though, she thought it shared similarities with watercolor in that tattoo artists' challenges were in many ways unique - to work directly on human skin, to create something that lived and breathed in time with the person that wore it. "It really is. Like, I wouldn't even complain about staying in if that's what you get in return."

Mel paused, her eyes flitting to Astrid's wrist and back again, catching only momentarily on the tissue wrapped around one of the other girl's fingertips. "The guy's the same artist that did your other one?"

Well, so much for attracting as little attention as possible. Now that other girl was getting irritated as well, mission critically failed. Oof, that glare of hers looked like it could melt steel beams, let alone geeky Germans. At least it wasn't directed at him. Not yet, at least.

She was right though. It was petty of him to insist on something as trivial as this. Hell, he had even falsely claimed to have asked for the chair first - even though he had only planned to, but not finished his sentence in time. Just him being a slowpoke, as usual. On the other hand, he had come so far already, backing down now would only hurt his confidence more than -

Never mind. Mel had already gotten up on her own. Huh, rare to see such altruism among his classmates. He almost felt bad now, making a nice girl like her comply with his own selfish needs. Darn, one of those moral dilemmas again, weren't there enough of those in the books he was reading already? He could just make it easy on himself, sit down and refrain from asking any more questions. Ta-dah! All good.

In fact, there was no need for him to have any more moral qualms. She had already sat back down, on the table, sure, but she didn't look like she minded at all. Pretty much an invitation for him to sit his own behind down already, now she even said it. Well, not exactly like that, but the idea was very much the same.

Maxim wrung his hands for a second, pondering how to thank Melanie for her indulgence. He settled for the simplest way he could think of. Grabbing his bag tightly, he lowered himself onto the chair, the object of his desire, all while muttering a less than enthusiastic "thanks."

Sure, he could have been a little more cordial, but she was already busy ogling that inky "art work", or however that other girl wanted to call it. He personally found it to be distasteful, but to each their own, as long as they didn't bother him with it.
In any case, he had wasted enough thought on his surroundings already - time to get back to the matter at hand. Didn't help his patience that the last chapter he had read ended on a cliffhanger. Eagerly, he opened up the tote bag containing his precious - comparison to Gollum, didn't seem that farfetched, really. Finally, his fingers felt at the smoothness of the book's cover and he let his fingertips linger over it for a moment. No class book could ever yield that same feeling of comfort!

All would have been perfect, if not for the fact that Mel couldn't seem to keep her mouth closed. This was a library, not a fish market! Oh well, he had picked his poison, too late to change his mind now. And besides, she would have to stop talking at some point, right?

With a sigh, Maxim pulled out the seventh volume of the Skullduggery Pleasant series and flipped it open, using the silky white bookmark.

God-freaking-damnit.

If there was one thing Astrid could say about Mel most of the time, it was that she had enough energy for at least 3 people. Whenever the two bumped into one another, Astrid was dead certain the other girl had a tanker of Monster wired directly to her veins, replacing her blood with pure sugar and caffeine. It was grating at best in those situations, but it was damn useful on the field, having someone who could run forever. Not that Astrid would ever admit that out loud.

Of course, the only time that Mel's energy seemed to be depleted was when she was actually supposed to be learning and participating in class. Either that, or she'd divert all of that energy into steadfastly doing anything but classwork, which was exactly what was going on now. Sure, it was lunchbreak right around now, but they were still in a goddamn library. If you weren't gonna read, or study, or do something that wasn't ‘sitting on the fucking table,' then you should just go to the freaking cafeteria.

That was what Astrid wanted to say to Mel, but she just had to ruin it all by actually deciding to be personable and reasonable, not to mention being the bigger person by letting Maxim take the chair. Going off at Mel, no matter how deserved Astrid felt it was, would just make her look like a raging bitch in this scenario. Instead, she closed her eyes, sighed, rubbed her forehead, and looked back up at Mel.

"Thanks." Astrid said, still unable to keep the begrudging tone out of her voice. "I guess you're right. I'd just prefer to be doing something outside on a day like this. Plus, the more people who get to see this, the better."

Astrid gave a short laugh, and smirked at that thought. It wasn't entirely true, not really. Sure, it was cool when people like Mel saw the tattoo on her wrist and complimented it, but there were just as many people who decided they would lecture her on how unprofessional it was, and reminding her that tattoos were permanent, and what would she think when she was 80? All that did was give Astrid another person whose opinions were irrelevant to her and who she was more important than.

"Different guy this time." Astrid shook her head as she said this. "There are some artists who are good at doing a lot of different designs, but the guy who did this one- "

Astrid raised her hand to indicate her wrist tattoo.

"-he specialises in line art and the like, things like Celtic knots and tribal tattoos. This new one, the guy specialises in animals, as well as a few other stuff. I'm probably gonna get a few more done in the future. People can say it's ‘unprofessional' as much as they like, but fuck that; if I'm gonna be working in the medical industry, I'm gonna be covered up anyway. People just wanna complain for the sake of complaining."

Astrid paused for a second, realising she was interacting with Mel a lot more than she had ever planned to do.

"Plus, my sister likes them, so there's that too."

"It's so arbitrary," Mel said, swinging her legs a couple of times. She stopped when the table shook under her. "I mean, it's just dumb that people are always telling others what they can or can't do. Like we should all be the same or something."

It was funny that Astrid seemed more civil right now than almost anytime else, just from getting a little buttered up. Then again, Mel couldn't imagine anyone reacting badly to a compliment unless they thought it was mockery, and it was clear enough that her interest had been genuine. Her mouth usually said what it wanted with little input from her brain, anyway.

She hadn't given thought to deliberately complimenting Astrid before. Maybe it was something to try in the future - give her some time, let her forget about this, then slip under her guard once it was down... It'd be amusing, at the very least.

As for Maxim, he seemed to have disengaged from everything to sink into his book. She could respect a good book enough, especially one with a fancy looking skeleton on the cover, not to interrupt him to ask what it was about.

"I wish my brother was interested in artsy stuff. Actually, no. Then I'd have to teach him, and that'd be a hopeless cause- anyway, he talks about your sister sometimes."

Mel grinned, left it vague for a long moment.

"Nothing weird, though."

Unbelievable. The two of them really couldn't keep their mouths shut now, could they? What had he even gone to the library for in the first place? Silence, of course. Welcoming, all-consuming silence. Another plan failed. He should have seen it coming.

Maxim let out a pained sigh, simultaneously chewing on his bottom lip. He had barely managed to get through three sentences yet. He had to keep starting all over, his peers' words blending in with the carefully braided web of words he was trying to focus on. Artists. Tattoos. Artsy stuff. Something about brothers and sisters. Someone just sew their damned mouths shut!

He lowered the book, his fingers slightly quivering as they desperately held on to it. Annoyed, yes, that was the term. He way beyond annoyed at this point. But then again, he couldn't really blame those girls, now that he thought about it. They succeeded where he was failing. Casual conversation, being sociable. What people of his age were all about, usually. Maybe he was just being jealous.

Was he really? No, the idea was preposterous. He was fairly content the way everything was, why would he have been jealous? Maxim the loner, the hermit,  the outcast. That's what he was and he was fine with it.

One of his hands left the book cover and felt at the furrows on his forehead. Yes, there it was, that permanent frown. Not even out of place this time. Out of place. Yes, that's what he was. Out of place, out of his element, a foreign body. Even here, at the library, which he usually considered sacred.

Maxim looked at the other two once more. They seemed content, both of them. He, he was just a disturbance. A liability. Which was fine. He was okay with that. Still, he had to act accordingly. Let his actions speak for him.

Slowly at first, then with a sudden jolt, he got up from his chair, almost jumping to his feet, the book firmly clasped under his arm, the bag held in the other hand. He glanced at Astrid and Mel, only for a split second, before averting his gaze again. The less said, the better. Let them have their fun.

He felt a shiver going down his spine. Couldn't even describe what it was. Maybe shame, excitement, anxiety, anything and everything combined. Whatever it was, it was his prompt to finally leave the scene.

And with that, he crept away, head hanging almost submissively low. He would find another place to read, a place nobody would disturb him. Where he wouldn't disturb someone else. Seek and you shall find. Yes, that would be his motto for the rest of the day. As swiftly and silently as possible, Maxim exited Beale Library.

((Maxim Kehlenbrink continued in Wasserweber))

Ah. Right. That was why Astrid would most likely prefer the company of a chainsaw wielding maniac than Mel half the time. Even if Astrid did begrudgingly agree with everything Mel was saying, at least the murderer would have the common courtesy not to swing their legs so hard the table literally started rocking. Jesus Christ. How old was she anyway, ten?

Somehow, Astrid resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead closing them and massaging her forehead. Yep. That was definitely a headache coming along. Goddamnit. That was absolutely not going to help her mood.

Leaning down to dig around in her bag again, Astrid found a packet of ibuprofen and her bottle of water after a few seconds of rummaging, placing them on the table just as Mel started talking again. She scattered a couple of tablets out on to the table, placed one in her mouth, took a swig of water, then nearly spat it all out again as she processed what Mel had just said.

Somehow she managed to swallow it, breaking into a small coughing fit as she glared at Mel, face a mix of anger and confusion. Eventually, Mel told her that ‘nothing weird' was going on, and Astrid's confusion subsided. Her anger, however, only increased. Her glare wouldn't just melt through metal; it'd obliterate and anything that stood in a six-mile radius around it.

It was a blessing for Mel's own safety that Maxim chose that moment to depart. He didn't say a word, not even a ‘goodbye' or a ‘oh shit I'm late for class.' He just got up like the chair was suddenly on fire and almost bolted out of the library. It was enough to jolt Astrid out of her un-righteous fury.

"The fuck is his deal anyway?" Astrid muttered. "Guy pretty much begs for that seat, then just ups and leaves after a few minutes? Is there something I'm missing here, or what?"

Astrid shook her head, and took another swig of water. The way this day was going, she almost expected someone to run up and squeeze the bottle whilst she was drinking.

If they did, then there would be a murder in the library.

Mel furrowed her brow, any semblance of a smile disappearing off her face. Her mostly eaten banana shifted from her left hand to her right, and then found its place back in her backpack again, in a pocket where it was less likely to smear over everything. If she thought really hard, or even not that hard at all, she could guess why Maxim had left. They all had different priorities. The guy was nice enough, but he had just wanted to read his book in peace, or go somewhere he'd forgotten to go, or avoid being witness to a murder. She wasn't much confused or annoyed about that. All it did was provide her with a few more opportunities.

"Whatever it was, I must've missed it too. No... wait a sec." She locked eyes to eye with Astrid. "I bet it's some sort of lesson - trying to show you that everyone will vanish from your life one day. They'll graduate, move across the country. They'll stop responding to your texts. They'll go and build a colony on the moon."

"And the worst part is, like him, they probably won't even tell you when they're gonna-"

Mel hopped off the table, dipped to grab her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and made for the door.

But only to wheel around a couple seconds later and plop back into Maxim's vacated chair.

"Except for people who you aren't getting rid of that easy," she said. The smile slid back onto her face. As far as her mind and mouth were concerned, she could do this all day, nudging at the alternating, rising tides of confusion and indignation that Astrid was prone to. "What're you reading, anyway?"

Astrid almost felt self-satisfied, as Mel too seemed to be concerned at Maxim's abrupt exit. At least the omni-present smile on her face had disappeared, which was a sure-fire sign that something was up with her. And why wouldn't there be? It HAD been rude for the guy to just get up and bolt after causing so much commotion. Sure, maybe he was shy. Big deal. Didn't stop him from making a gesture of farewell or something.

She tried not to feel too satisfied though. Didn't exactly feel great having a similar view to a girl who shoved a half-eaten banana back into her bag.

But then Mel started going on some weird little spiel about people leaving her or something, and Astrid's eyes narrowed. Was she missing out on some sort of joke here? That wouldn't be too unlikely; there was always some stupid joke or reference floating around the student body that she couldn't care less about.

Then all of a sudden, Mel herself abruptly stood up and started walking towards the exit, taking her bag with her, and suddenly the meaning behind her words became very clear. Astrid was now stuck in the incredibly unfavourable position on being conflicted about Mel leaving. On the one hand, it meant that she was now out of her hair, something that never came about this easily. On the other hand, Mel had just left in the exact same way as Maxim had, immediately after Astrid had made it very clear exactly how rude that was. So all that happened was that she was left bubbling with confusion, glaring at Mel's retreating back.

Of course, Mel's true intentions were almost immediately deciphered. The girl baffled Astrid. She wasn't exactly a complicated girl, truth be told, and yet it seemed every single thing she did was meticulously designed to vex Astrid, and the worst part was that it worked. No doubt Mel had enjoyed the look of confusion and indignation on her face as she'd turned back around, and was probably enjoying the death glare she was receiving right now.

Astrid let out a deep sigh, turning back to her books, flipping through the pages of the one lying on top to try and find her place again. It wasn't like she could just get up and go somewhere else; the chances of Mel following her wherever she went like a stray puppy were about 99.9%.

"It's history stuff." Astrid muttered curtly. "The late 1100s, Richard the Lionheart and the Third Crusade, that general area. Lot of misconceptions about him."

Astrid was sorely tempted to add a ‘I don't expect you to understand it,' but she just knew that, somehow, Mel would find a way to spin it around to further aggravate her.

Well, now Astrid was just acting like a deflated balloon. Any bigger of a sigh and Mel would have drawn the conclusion that if she pushed Astrid's buttons enough, Astrid would flip from workaholic to sensitive artistic soul. But hey, maybe it was part of a scheme - to weaponize a general aura of resignation, in order to succeed where angry death glares had failed (not to say that Astrid wasn't still trying the latter).

What Astrid was reading did surprise her, though. History. On top of that, it was history that wasn't particularly relevant to what Mel had figured Astrid's interests to be.

Perhaps it was to maintain her grouchy attitude towards the world? Mel could buy that. Nine hundred years had passed, and followers of a god were still murdering each other over holy sites and differences in their texts. The actual conflict between the religions was almost certainly more subtle than that, not to mention more serious than she was willing to think about right now, but she had never paid enough attention in Sunday school to have any chance at remembering the details. In any case, once Astrid finished the book, she'd be fully recharged on misanthropy, and could then go around eyeing people suspiciously for signs of wanting to put on heavy armor and kill others to regain access to Jerusalem.

It was a decent theory for why Astrid had chosen this particular book. Its only flaw was that it wasn't grounded in reality at all.

She supposed she could just ask.

"Is this for a report?" Mel squinted at the book. "The next thing I know, you'll be telling me that Robin Hood doesn't exist."