Emile was a Gryffindor, he was brave like all the other students in his house.  He was barely scared of anything, it was practically in his blood.  However, one thing that gave him the creeps was exploring the dungeons.  Especially with the knowledge that some snobby Slytherin might just run him up the wall if they saw him, a younger Gryffindor.  

But he liked it, that's why he continued to weave around, peering around every corner before continuing along, caution radiating from him.  A ghost would be fun, he was sure of that.  Although, it was even more fun to watch someone who was most definetly not a brave soul terrified by the spirits at Hogwarts that dwelled in the depths. 

He shivered, not out of fear but simply because he was nearly freezing, wearing only a short sleeve shirt to cover his frigid torso.  He could understand why a Snake might live down here, but a Hufflepuff?  Perhaps to put a far distance from rivaling houses.  Nonetheless, it was like a freezer.

Emile came to another corner, beginning to search for whatever could be in the adjacent corridor but was distracted by a distinctive sizzling sound.  Shattered glass was right in the middle of the hall, waiting for someone to step on what he guessed used to be a potion, perhaps dropped by a wizard or witch sprinting down the hall to catch class in time.  He came closer to the brewing and was suddenly rammed to the cold, hard floor, tumbling to a stop, his body aching already, his shoulder screaming in pain.  He reached his hand to it and felt warm, red blood accompanied by shards of sharp glass, leaving a gash wide open, and no surprise.  He had just been layed out, rolling over most of the repurposed potion with another body on top of him. "What the hell was that for?" He spat.

Rico had to get back to his dorm room, a group of older Gryffindors were picking on him, he ran, knowing he couldn't take on 5 17-year-olds. He skidded as he turned the corner, looking behind him, he didn't notice the body in front of him. He rammed into the young Gryffie, whose name he did not remember. The boy slid into the shattered glass strewn about the floor.

"What the hell was that for?"

He noticed the colors the boy was wearing, a Gryffindor, how appropriate, maybe he could get a little one on his side so the older lions would leave him be. Rico smiled and reached a hand down to the boy whose shoulder was armored in glass, impaling the soft skin above his humerus. "Oh, wow, sorry, I didn't see you there, are...are you okay?" He was plotting in his head how he could create a false friendship with this one.

Rico's eye twitched, he was really thinking like a true Slytherin now, it frightened even him. He helped the boy up. "I'm Rico Posada, by the way, you might have met my sister or something? The girl with the multicolored hair?"

Emile stared into Rico's dark brown eyes, scrutinizing the Slytherin.  He was tall, very tall, with jet black hair and light brown skin.  Posada… He must've been Spanish.

  "Emiliano Lawson,"  He said, standing as tall as he could.  His shoulder was on fire, and when he looked to it, he suddenly felt sick.  The shards were fizzling and looked as though they were transluecent armor on his wound.  Acidic chunks of glass buried in his arm.  Wonderful.

  "I'm not exactly stellar, if you could tell," he said.  He felt his wound, but instead pushed glass father into it and returned with a dripping red hand.  He cried out in pain, wanting desperately to apply pressure but knowing that he would bleed out if he did so.

 "I could use some help," he muttered.  "What do you want in return?" He thought it was only fair that if Rico assisted him that he assist Rico.  "You don't look like you'd need help, though.  Are you a fifth year or something?"  He questioned. 

"Ummm..." Rico looked at Emiliano Lawson, much, much shorter than he, and his face looked like a chubby baby. Rico was trimming peach fuzz from his face already. "I've been in all of your classes all year, you haven't noticed me at all?" Posada ran a hand through his hair, it was getting long, he would need a haircut when he got back home. "Whatever, do you want to go to the Hospital Hut or somethi- what are you doing down here anyways Mr. Emiliano Lawson?"

This short kid was a bit Americanized- and Rico wasn't the biggest fan, he was sort of on edge about the whole Tetrawizard thing, there were no foreign wizards his age, so why should he care? "Are, are you originally from America? It's not my business, I'm Irish and Spanish, but you talk like an American, have you ever, like, been there?"

Emile didn't like Rico Posada, not one bit.  He was like all the other Slytherins; basically a jerk.  So, even if he bled to death, he'd be a clever arsehole the whole time.  "Well, you are quite unnoticeable," he said, his tone weighted by sarcasm.  "And, aren't you a Slytherin?  I wouldn't want to notice a piece of garbage like you." Emile looked at Rico for dramatic affect, his eyes scanning him.  "So, a half-giant, yeah?" He snickered. 

"Well…" he began, concocting a fake story.  "Well, you see, I rode a bloody rainbow down to Hogwarts from the clouds of eternal bliss, and came to the dungeons to explore." He scoffed.  "Why the hell should I tell you?"

His blood was boiling, although he wasn't sure why.  But he wasn't the least bit afraid of Posada.  So he continued to be a jerk.  "Definetly." He prepared his best southern American accent.  "I love them eagles and free-dome in 'Merica, you can certainly tell." Emile's eyes rolled.  "Get a thinkin' cap, berk!" He lost his American a little at the end, but he didn't mind.  He imagined Rico was fuming.

"Oh well aren't we a raging hotbed of wit today?" Rico was appalled by the boys horrendous answer to his innocent question. "You don't want to get in trouble with the older Slytherins that pass by here in about 3 minutes from Defence, the last kid they found in the dungeons other than a Slytherin was hung upside down by his shoe laces in the Great Hall you know?"

Rico rolled his eyes. "Go, bleed out by yourself then, just get out of the dungeons okay, no one wants to see an ugly Gryffindor mug down here, and if you think you're going to try pranking Slytherin house, you though wrong." Rico chattered his teeth together. "Damn, you Brits sure have different customs than Ireland and Spain." Rico said quieter as he turned away from Emile to go into the commonroom.

Rico could say literally anything he wanted, but Emile wouldn't so touch him.  If he shoved Rico, he'd be on the floor, shoulder first - before he could second guess his actions.  He could barely muster enough strength to throw a punch, anyway.  He was already feeling dizzy, his arm was dripping blood and his side was soaked even though his shoulder was bleeding on the outside of his arm.  "Thank you, I am quite clever, you must know by now." His sarcasm streak continued. 

"I am utterly terrified." His blunt statement was clearly false, even though his tone was flat.  He was a Gryffindor, he was brave, not skittish.  But as Rico walked off, Emile regretted being so mean.  He had no help whatsoever, and he knew only the kindest of Slytherins would come to his aid at that point, so he hoped for a Hufflepuff.  

His dizziness turned to light-headedness as he struggled to stay standing on two feet.  He imagined his face was pale as a ghost, and he really needed to get to the hospital wing.  He slipped away from conscienceness, the corners of his vision blurring.  He fell, grabbing on Rico's robes as he thudded to the ground.

Rico continued to ignore Emile, not wanting to get involved with the rude British boy. Emile grabbed his robes, half-choking him, as he fell. "Gak!" Emiliano had passed out. Rico stumbled as Emi hit the cold, stone dungeon floor. This was the millionth time this year, he was going to have to help someone, why couldn't everyone stay not-hurt? Rico dragged Emile so his heels no longer were near the glass. There wasn't even that much blood, maybe he just passed out from the thought of losing blood.

Rico took off his tie and used it to pull the large shards of glass out of the Gryffindor's arm. The smaller ones would have to wait for the medical wing. Rico slung his now bloodied tie over his neck. He pulled the boy's arms and positioned him so he was 'sitting' in an upright position. He grabbed the shirt just above the boy's belt, using the handful of cloth to position Emile over his right shoulder.

"Okay Emile, we're going to the medical wing now, okay?" He said to un-conscious child. He slunk through the hallways, older kids were in class, he was not going to the common-room he finalized. He hid behind corners, putting Emile down twice to switch shoulders, he was nothing next to 100 pound bags of raw meat. One side of his white shirt was a deep crimson, was it just him, or was the blood streaming faster?

He made it to the medical wing, giving him to Madam Nadge. Rico told her that he had found the young Gryffie passed out in the pile of glass. He followed the trail of drip splots back to the dungeons were he removed his shirt, to find his skin a deep pink. He ran to a bathroom and sat in the bathtub scrubbing his shoulder until his skin was raw, and he continued to scrub.