Secluded staircase just off from The Great Hall
Exact time unknown

Sophie had ducked out of the party and a way from Nicky-the-Safety-Date because there was a strand of pearls that kept coming unpinned from the back of her dress and it was highly irritating tripping over it every few steps. She was already dealing with the enchanted blossoms that formed behind her with each step only to dissolve into wisps of pinks and green. The idea had been to find one of the girls to go with her as Demeter, or maybe talk Nicky into being Hades. Of course he wanted to be a Dementor and no one wanted to play her mother so she was just Persephone which only one out of every six people got despite the fact she was carrying around a pomegranate. At least people told her she looked pretty, and yes she as that incredibly vain. It had been a serious blow to her pride when all contact with Deus just dried up without warning. They had talked about coming to the Ball together not so very long ago and now... well now he was like a ghost.

Then there was Figaro, what the devil was she supposed to do about that mess? It wasn't really a mess, it had been nice. It had felt natural to just kiss him back... but what kind of girl did that make her? She knew that he fancied half a dozen girls at any given time and it was hard to feel special. So she avoided talking about it, didn't make eye contact, kept the conversation pithy and light when she was forced to be in close proximity to him. She knew it was categorically unfair; but then this was Figaro she was dealing with. He probably hadn't spent half the time agonizing over it as she had. She was a dweller, he just did things. She wasn't mad at him anymore but she was confused. She was mixed up about what everything meant - if it had to mean anything at all. It was more than mildly vexing that she was worrying over all this whilst simultaneously trying to reattach the beads to a clasp she couldn't even see, "Oh Bloody hell. Shite like this never happens to Raine".

She didn't actually know this for a fact of course but it felt like she had terrible luck. She ought to have had Nicky come help her, but he was off mingling and as far as stand in dates went he'd more than done his duty already. She hadn't had to show up alone, he'd given her a handful of dances, fixing wardrobe malfunctions was not in his job description. He probably would have humored her though, eventually all these favors were going to cost her. Pushing a long wayward curl from her face she gave a small disgruntled sigh, "Stupid girly costumes. Should have just been a hippy, whatever those are". It was then she heard the shuffling of feet behind her and tilted her head back to look at the lofty Castle buttresses, "My Kingdom for some help with this ridiculous dress"!

"Sooooophie," Figaro sang-song her name as he came a-trotting down the stairs  He'd timed it perfectly, he supposed; she was fumbling with some sparkly, frilly bits on her dress and had asked for help. 

He came up behind her and took the strands of pearls from her hands.  "What do I do with these?"

Figaro was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of white trousers and sneakers.  And, in the spirit of not-trying-hard-is-cool, he'd stuck a false unicorn horn to his face.  There was glitter all down his front - he had handfuls of it in his pockets and had been being a nuisance with the stuff.  Although he'd barely set foot in the dancer proper, mostly galavanting about with the likes of folks like Seto or Kiba.   

He was actually pretty happy to see Sophie.  No doubt she and everyone else was now well aware that Professor Sandusky had lifted the Silencing Spell and the world was back in balance again.  They'd kissed last week in the library and he'd been thinking about a lot.  He knew that he shouldn't read into it too much, but he liked to think that maybe she didn't hate him anymore. 

"What are you, a princess or something?" 

The Saints had a sense of humor, she found herself closing her eyes and lifting her hair into a pile at the back of her head as Fig took the misbegotten piece of costume, "The back of the dress, there's a hooky latch thing it's supposed to attach to," a pile of enchanted flowers had gathered at her feet, though they drifted into nothingness as Fig tried to help her. She felt her heart quick a little bit, his fingers grazing the soft skin just above the low back of her costume. Bollocks.

He sounded like himself again, and that made her happy. It was good to hear his silly singsong voice even though he would probably stick his foot in his mouth in the next five minutes. If she were honest with herself, sometimes (not all the time, but sometimes) she wished she could be a little bit more like Fig and a little less like herself. Sure he needed to see the bigger picture but constantly being worried about the state of the world was exhausting. It'd be nice to just be sixteen and silly.

She looked over her shoulder at him a bit back a laugh, " You're the sixteenth person to ask me that tonight. I'm really bad at this," shaking her bangs from her face she gave a little shrug, "Persephone. From Greek Mythology. Hades tricked her into being his bride, and her mother Demeter, who was the goddess of basically crops, went into mourning so everything died until Hades agreed to release her, which is why we have Spring and Summer," she wrinkled her nose a little, "Mostly I wanted to look pretty. Maybe I should have just been a princess," she paused and reached over to tap the glittery horn attached to his head "you're certainly looking majestic".

Permission to touch Sophie was a pretty damn good Halloween present and Figaro took his time re-attaching the loose strands.  Gently untangling them and finding the tiny little hooks-and-eyes that lined the hem of the back opening.  A few times his fingertips grazed her back and this did not escape his notice.

"I'm damn majestic," he concurred with a grin, and she bopped his horn. 

"No this is better than princess," he said, fixing the last strand.  "Persephone  Goddess of Crops.  I love crops.  They're bloody wicked, crops.  Damn, dropped it."

The last strand dropped and swung down loose again, and Figaro had to gather it up again, thread it back through.  He wasn't trying to delay things on purpose.  "You look pretty though.  Your boobs especially - I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

He immediately stepped back two or three paces and held up his hands in surrender.  He couldn't help it!  When he had been young and immature and a dolt and asked her out last year that's how he'd asked her - managed to mention how nice her breasts looked and now it was a laugh between them.  Right? Back in those heady days of childish romance that they were so past now, so beyond.  So much more sophisticated!

This was one of those situations that felt extremely weird simply because it didn't feel weird. Their friend-relationship-dating-thing was in constant chaos before. They were always fighting with one another, bickering. She wouldn't lie and say she'd kind of liked the version of him that had to stop and listen because he couldn't talk, rather than filling every silent second with noise. She'd missed his version though too, the funny Figaro who always said the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time - only tonight he seemed to have done it on purpose to be funny.

 She felt her cheeks flush when he affirmed she did, indeed, look pretty. Then her eyes went wide as he continued on to mention her breasts and she covered her face with one hand, groaning "Fiiiiiiiiiiigaro," as her cheeks burned hot and she was torn between wanting to cross her arms over her chest to hide them and just taking a swipe at his shoulder. It was best not to hit him - she had decided she would have to learn better ways to cope with his...verbal malfunctions. The problem was she had not yet found an alternative to just whopping him when he said vastly inappropriate things.

"Very funny, but sine you're no longer my boyfriend that means you're not supposed to be looking," she stuck her tongue out at him like a petulant four year old, wishing the red in her cheeks would fade - hoping it was hardly visible in the floating candle light. She was going to correct him and say that Persephone's mother was the Goddess of Crops but it hardly seemed important. She should have just been Rapunzel...except her mop of hair was already hard enough to control without making it magic grow to the floor. Clearing her throat she tried to think of something not awkward to say but floundered with a, "Did you ask anyone to the ball"? As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she  could stuff them back in. Why on Earth would she care about that?!

Figaro felt pretty smug at getting a rise out of Sophie.  It wasn't that hard, but it was great having her attention.  She was fun to hang out with, even if she took things too seriously sometimes.

"Ha, you're blushing...!" he observed cheerfully, knowing it'd make her blush more.  He almost retorted back that he should be her boyfriend, but held his tongue on that one.  He didn't actually want to bother her.  He knew she didn't want to be his girlfriend. 

Figaro stuck his hands in his pockets and then startled a moment - oh right, they were full of glitter.  He rubbed his finger and thumb together, wadding up bits of sparkle and cheer into a crunchy little pill.

"Ask someone? To this?"  he thumbed over his shoulder to the Great Hall which was cheerfully festooned, and full of kids in costume.  "No way, going stag.  Loads more fun."  Figaro lifted the bottom hem of his t-shirt with one hand and smeared glitter on it with the other, patting his 'abs'.  "Had t' break a few hearts though.  Why? Who are you here with?"

He sounded more curious than he wanted to, but he was curious.

"I am not," she tired to insist she wasn't blushing but it was plain as the nose on her face. She didn't want to be blushing, but even after all the attention Deus had lavished on her over the summer and the first weeks of school she was still adjusting to the idea that she was pretty and that she had...certain body parts boys took notice of. She felt like she was in that awkward transition phase of everyone seeing her one way and still feeling like she was much worth noticing. Leave it all up to Figaro to remind her that people were noticing a lot.

Her eyebrow raised slowly as she tilted her head to one side. He hadn't asked anyone - what did that mean? Well, it meant it was the Halloween Ball, and Halloween night was more fun to run around scaring people or pulling pranks. BUT it could also mean he didn't ask anyone because he was still thinking about their kiss in the library last week. She'd heard all the rumors about how loose his lips had been. Trying to be all over Abby on her birthday, making out with Alexia Wilson, then there had been the thing with Envy over the summer - which didn't really count she supposed because it only served to get him a bloody lip.

His actual tell was in the undoubtedly too curious tone of his voice. She gave a nonchalant shrug and inspected her nails, "Nicky," she let the name hang in the air there for a moment. She was trying to decide if she should elaborate that it wasn't a date-date, they just showed up places together because Sophie was trying to salvage some dignity after the whole Deus thing (not that she was mad at Deus, he was just being himself and she knew that and if her feelings got hurt it was her own fault for letting herself think she was special), She didn't like the idea of false pretense with Figaro, so after another moment she added, "Neither of us like showing up to things alone. It's the same reason we went to the Champion after party together".

"Bevans?" 

Figaro echoed with perhaps more distaste than he actually had for him.  Figaro frankly had absolutely no problem with Nick Bevans.  He was a bit of an aloof prat sometimes, but honestly a good bloke and Fig'd hang out with him when he had the chance.  But the fact that Sophie called him Nicky?  Vomit.

He rolled his eyes, barely even listening to what she said next.  He was too busy in his head coming to his own conclusions about why she would be at the Halloween dance with Nick.  He wasn't jealous.  Why would he be jealous? And what after-party?

"Yea, sure, Sophie.  Nick Bevans.  I get it.  I guess.  He's really loads of fun.  And soft hands, too.  Nice cuticles. Very well-kept lad."  He quipped on with a little scoff, trying to play it off with a flippant toss of his head.  His unicorn horn sparkled.

He clapped his hands and glitter flew everywhere and he rubbed his palms together, shedding some of the excess.  Glitter.  The herpes of arts and crafts.  It just got everywhere...

Sophie looked at Figaro and blinked, head tilted to one side, "Hey, Nick is a good guy," she sounded defensive and a little hurt. Why was Fig being a prat now? It wasn't as though he asked her, and why should she feel defensive anyway? She was free to do what she liked with whomever she wanted as far as she knew. "Gordic's Garters, stop acting like a such a twit. We're just friends," she couldn't help but sound huffy.

Who did Fig think he was anyway? He'd made out with plenty of girls since they'd broken up the previous spring. He'd told Envy he wanted to shove his tongue in her mouth right in front of Sophie over the summer! Why did he get to do what he liked and she suddenly felt guilty for showing up somewhere with one of the few people who actually stuck through shite with her when it got hard? Nick was a good friend, she didn't like him that way but even if she did it wasn't Figaro's job to be a self important prat about it.

"Besides, it's not like anyone else asked me. I just wanted to have a bit of a laugh. Everything has been so terrible lately - I would think you of all people wouldn't begrudge me a chance to just be with a friend and stuff my face with candy. It's not like I'm going to haul him off into the broom closet and snog him senseless. It isn't that way," she punctuated the little rant with another huff and her arms crossed over her chest. Of course she found herself sputtering as he glitter clapped at her, trying to bat the sparkles away, "Why do you care anyway, you didn't even try to talk to me about getting back together after we broke up," and to prove that she was really mature...she stuck her tongue out at him, which was then coated in bits of glitter.

Figaro just rolled his eyes.  This was impossible.  Why did everything always become some thing?  She was impossible. 

"I did not want to think about that, thank you very much!" Sophie snogging Bevans senseless was not a pretty picture.  All up... on there...c'mon.

"I don't care. Do whatever you want. Harper, Bevans, Deres, who cares."  God, the glitter was everywhere.  He wiped his hands on his trousers, now getting more annoyed.  "Maybe I didn't try and get back with you because I didn't want to get back with you."

Maybe.  He covered up a pout with an indignant scowl. 

Then with a strange sort of sigh/groan he tossed his head back and looked Sophie head on.  "Will you get back with me?"

While she was busy trying to get glitter off her tongue she rolled her eyes, "Oh just make me sound so terrible! At least I never told Deus I wanted to shove my tongue in his mouth right in front of you," she was sputtering - not because she was particularly mad or anything, but she really couldn't get the glitter off her tongue and it felt terrible. She was frustrated and flustered - and it was mad worse because she couldn't even really defend herself. She didn't know where he got the idea she'd hooked up with Nick or Erin. What kind of girl did he take her for?!

She couldn't deny the Deus thing, that was what it was and still stung a little. Rolling her eyes, she slapped her forehead with one hand and heaved a huge sigh, "If you don't care then why are you acting so huffy about it? We're just friends! You don't get to tell me who I can and can't spend time with". Why were they even fighting about this? Half the time they couldn't stand one another (this conversation was a prime example of exactly why they did best in small doses). What did he want from her?

She winced a little as he declared he hadn't wanted to be with her anymore - and then turned around and asked her if they should get back together now. She just looked at him, mouth agape (bits of glitter still stuck to her tongue), brown eyes wide. She started to say something and then stopped herself, mouth opening and closing like a fishing trying to breathe on land. She gestured with her hands but no sound came out of her mouth until finally, in total exasperation she threw her hands up in the air and cried, "DO YOU EVEN LIKE ME FIGARO? No, seriously, think before you answer. It is a legitimate question".

Figaro watched as Sophie's brain exploded.  It was bizarre to see everything misfiring in there.  She was trying to speak, but then couldn't, waving her hands...  and then she was shouting. 

Figaro was completely taken aback by the question.  And she was right to stop him straight away - he'd opened his mouth to speak, but obeyed at the order to think.  (Dear readers, we might think he'd have learned by now the merit of this, but some lessons take awhile to stick.)  He left his mouth hanging open a little as he actually let the question settle.

Why was she even asking him that? Wasn't it obvious? Why would she even ask him that? Had he not been clear?  Why did it even matter? Hadn't she wanted him to ask her out? Wasn't that what she'd hinted at twice? Once when she said that no one else had asked her to the Halloween dance, and again when she accused him of not trying to get back together after she'd dumped him.  Wait, did her asking mean she didn't like him?  He thought they were friends!

"Uh..."  His face told the tale of his total confusion.  He had absolutely no idea how to respond.  And Sophie's probing stare made every option seem like it would just send her off.  He was so concerned about saying the right thing, it didn't occur to him to just say the true thing.  Now especially that he was now doubting that she even liked him.

Sophie took several deep breaths as Figaro, for once, took his sweet time in answering. It was awkward, standing there waiting to hear what he had to say. She thought of the kiss in the library, how natural it had felt to just do that on the spot, no hesitation. She thought about what it had been like when they were friends, after the break up, after her mum had died. She thought of his aloof looks and the fact he just didn't talk to her unless he had to. She had missed him. She'd gone about her life but she'd missed him.

They were like these two opposite unstoppable forces, they clashed and the raged... but in the end they couldn't stay away. The idea of losing that again, of going back to indifferent looks and no laughter made her queasy, and for once she was the one rushing to fill the silence, "It's ok if you don't. I just... I never know where I stand with you. One second we're fighting and the next we're kissing - but you still want to kiss other people and I don't want to go back to not talking. Even when you make me crazy it's the good kind of crazy. It's the kind of crazy I miss when you just stop talking and start pretending like I don't exist".

She chewed her bottom lip, clasping her hands together to ind the fact she wanted to wring them. He was going to tell her she took everything too seriously. He was going to tell her she was a killjoy. He was going to point out all the ways in which she was the least likable person on the planet, "I know that I yell at you a lot, and I broke your nose, and you think I take life too seriously, and I think you don't take it seriously enough because you're busy living in Figaroland where I can only assume there are a lot of fart jokes and Weidman collectibles... but even when it seems like I don't, I do like you... and when we don't talk I miss you, which I realize is stupid and cliched and terribly girly of me but I can't really help it... and please shut me up because I feel like an idiot".

Figaro had to look over his shoulder, back towards the dance to make sure that there wasn't anyone eavesdropping them.  He was trying to follow, but there was so much emotion going on and he'd caused some of it.  Sophie was a really good person.  She was just a good person.  She tried to do the right thing, she really cared about people, she worried about how they felt.  Figaro was not any of that.  And for as much as he talked, he never really felt like he was good at speaking his mind.  But he did like her.  He did.  In all sorts of ways.  The laughs, the kissing, how pretty she was, how nice she was, that she got all fussed about important things, how she put up with his shit most of the time, how she said that she liked him.  He did like her.

And he didn't really want her to shut up.  He'd been watching her talk at him and his own blush and self-conscious grimace.  "Just... shhh,"  he took a few steps away from her, and beckoned her to follow.  There was a small space beside the giant staircase, a sheltered nook inhabited by a suit of armor.   When he got close, the suit of armor turned its head with a scrape, and then snapped it back to attention.  Nothing to see here.  And in this quiet nook it had probably seen plenty.

Figaro leaned against the stone wall, and sighed.  His face looked pained.  He mustered up some courage and with a deep breath started in.

"I really like you too.  I always do, even when we're fighting.  I figured that's why we were good for each other.  Friends I mean.  Didn't really matter that I'm a big-mouth arsehole most of the time and you're a bossy know-it-all - I still like you.  And I thought you liked me. And when you act like maybe you like someone else better... I don't know.  I shouldn't be jealous, but I am.  Not like...jealous boyfriend, though.  That's creepy as hell."

He scoffed at the notion of some stalkery, possessive Romeo. 

"I didn't kiss anyone else when we were together.  I didn't think you'd care otherwise.  And you've got to let that thing with Envy go!  Oh, god, Sophie, please.  That was so not my finest hour," he laughed.  "Also - did Fauna not tell you I kissed her?  I figured she would."

Just talking to Sophie again was actually cheering him up and he found himself getting off topic.

"It was hilarious - she seemed to think that I wouldn't do it.  She practically dared me.  Wasn't, like, a thing though.  We're just friends."

"I would date you though.  I'd date you hard."  He looked down at his feet and shook his head, embarrassed that he'd just asked her again, after telling her he'd also kissed Fauna Blake. 

Sophie followed him carefully, watching the strands of pearls and chains because the absolute last thing she needed was to fall into him face first or something, or get tangled and end up with her dress around her ankles. Ducking under the staircase wasn't hard, she was barefoot (because Persephone wouldn't wear shoes) so she was at her level 5'1" (at best). She listened to him carefully, her head tilted to one side. He hadn't ever told her these things, and sure she was a Seer but she wasn't a mind reader. She couldn't know how he really felt about her all the time, especially when there were so many voices in her ear telling her other things too. When visibly winced when he brought up kissing Fauna and found herself having to look down at her hands with a small sigh.

"I'm not just talking about Envy, though that was really horrible," she gave a little shrug finally looking up, "I knew all kinds of things Fig. I knew you asked Misty to the dance first and she told you no so you asked me... and that was ok because we'd always had fun. I couldn't hold it against you because I had some weird feelings about Chance... I didn't know about you and Fauna till later. I... when she told me I didn't know what to think anymore. It was like everyone was just mad for her. I felt like some third rate prize you settled for because I said yes," she frowned and shook her head.
"That probably sounds stupidly insecure, and I know I stomp around all the time like I know everything, but I don't. I just act that way so people won't know how unsure of all this shit I am".

And then he did that thing where he said he wanted to be with her, but he said it in the least flattering way. She didn't want roses and candlelight, that was corny and stupid... but he could have better timing, and he could have put it in the form of a question rather than a statement. Of course she could stop being picky and just accept that this is how things were with him, he was never going to be sweepingly romantic, he was always going to say the wrong thing, but there would always been the right feeling behind it. He liked her, he really liked her, he was crap at showing it but then so was she sometimes. She was bossy, and demanding, and know-it-all-y...but he liked her anyways. She laughed a little at his assertion he would date her so hard before leaning over and placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth, "That is mildly helpful information to have".