THE WORDS YOU SPOKE TO ME - (Wriolette)

╰┈➤ 00 - PRELUDE

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Neuvillette is not surprised or confused at the prospect of a meeting after school in the student council office. He is the president of it, of course, if someone had something to say they would take it to him.

What does surprise and confuse him is the person sat lazily in the chair opposite a desk, leg crossed and hung over the armrest, and arm thrown over the back.

It's a pose confident in its laziness, much like its owner.

This handsome, dark haired, blue eyed, rough looking boy is called Wriothesley. Neuvillette knows him and they could almost be considered friends, so it is odd that he would call a proper meeting to talk to him. He's sure Wriothesley would prefer talking to him far more informally, like usual.

Neuvillette slips into the room, shutting the door behind him and turning to Wriothesley. He's slung himself onto the only chair currently in the room so Neuvillette simply stands opposite him for the time being.

"What do you need?" he asks. Straight to the point is how he likes his meetings. Wriothesley snorts.

"So formal, president Neuvillette. Always so smart. Proper." there's a teasing lilt in his voice that Neuvillette is not unfamiliar with, yet all the same doesn't appreciate. He frowns and Wriothesley moves his leg down, "Can I not just talk to you?"

The furrow in Neuvillette's brow deepens. He sighs, "Wriothesley. You called a meeting with me for a reason, no?"

Wriothesley tips his head back, "No. And really, if this is such a meeting, shouldn't it be duke Wriothesley?" he narrows his eyes. His fluffy hair falls in his face and it's not the first time Neuvillette's wanted to reach out and touch it. He squishes down the awkward thought. Not quite the time.

"You aren't a duke."

"You aren't actually president of anything much either." he counters quickly and Neuvillette feels a little powerless. He did not expect such a rebuttal, though really he should have.

Wriothesley has recently been dubbed as 'duke' by his little band of troublemakers that are somehow an official club. Pankration is barely a sport, let alone worthy of its own space in the sports hall after school on Thursdays. At least the student council do some good for the school.

"Fine, Wriothesley. But it's very inappropriate for you to ask for an official meeting just so that we can chat." Neuvillette speaks sternly, though he's not quite as annoyed as he makes himself sound. He doesn't mind talking to Wriothesley, but his student council is serious business.

In fact, it could be said he likes talking to Wriothesley. Neuvillette might even go so far as to say he likes the boy himself. As a friend. Of course.

Wriothesley rests his head on one of his hands, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and showing off his strong forearms. He must surely be doing this on purpose.

Neuvillette watches him and wonders why. He's sure Wriothesley knows he's attractive. This is the sort of way he would act around the girls. Not with Neuvillette, in the small office, alone and close in proximity. Not with Neuvillette.

"C'mon, president. Monsieur Neuvillette." Wriothesley drawls, voice low. At being addressed in such a manner, Neuvillette feels his face and the tips of his ears heat up. He's too wound up now and he knows it. Wriothesley chuckles, "Have some fun, will you? You aren't going to fall behind after one busy evening." he slouches back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk.

Neuvillette watches him, willing his face to return to normal and his heartbeat to slow. He looks up to the ceiling instead of the dark hair and piercing eyes, "Why would I be busy? This meeting is barely going to last, as we are."