Hands in his pockets a slump to his walk and shaking his head on the rhythm of his humming. "Sometimes I give myself theeee creeps" he hummed melodically under his breath. "Sometimes my mind plays tricks oooo-oon me" he took his hands out of his pockets and started air guitaring on the song. "It all keeps adding up, I think I'm craa-ckiiiiing up" he sung louder this time, taking a jump and landing into "Am I just paranoid, or I'm juuuu-ust stoned?" which he wasn't really. No, he was just bonkers out of his mind with utter boredom. Having only four classes was such a friggin' bummer half o' the time. Especially since they were spread out throughout the day, and he found himself with so many damned free periods, when all other smart-pants where in classes.

He had no actual idea of what he was doing or where he was going. he was just taking a stroll through the castle, hoping to find a client or two. But nothing so far. As he rounded the corner to enter the fourth floor corridor however, he recognized a familiar... arse. Which, totally did not sound barmy in his mind. 'Cause it was a mint arse, but if he skenned 'arder he could also see the tuft o' blond hair on Harper's head. Philip stopped humming instantly, and his entire body tensed in preparation and he grinned a full, toothy smile. He flexed his entire body, rounding his hands into fists and took a small jump on the spot, cracking the bones in his neck before he sprinted towards the crouching bloke. And just when he was close-enough that the dude couldn't really do anything to prevent his totally rude leap-frog, he cleared his throat and laughed under his breath.

"Yo, Harper, didn't ye learn to never bend for the soap, mate?" he said as his hands settled themselves comfortably on Erin's shoulders and he was preparing to take the jump.

Erin was just squatting in the corridor, retying a stubborn trainer and totally minding his own bloody business when some well-honed instinct in his ancient hindbrain sat up and sounded a subtle alarm. He only had time to pause in the middle of his lacing before two hands settled hard on his upper back and a familiar voice called above him in familiar glee, ""Yo, Harper, didn't ye learn to never bend for the soap, mate?"

Instantly he surged up but Phillip, the mad bugger, had already sailed over his head. Acting on reflexes long-since Seeker-honed, Erin threw out a hand to catch him by the ankle and pull down hard. Phillip went slamming face-first into unforgiving Hogwarts stone. Erin let out an explosive boy-guffaw that creased his whole face in a grin.

"Yo, Kinsey, didn't ye learn to never poke a snake?" he inquired innocently in exact imitation of Phillip's accent, crouching back on his heels.

He was grinning like an idiot, 'cause this was such an awesome idea and fun and joy—and then he was not. No, instead he was lying on the floor wailing in pain, because he had just faceplanted nose first into the cold, hard, resistant stone floor. Of course. Of course it was his bloody nose. No, literally his bloody nose, 'cause he could feel the warmth of the gross liquid pooling around his face, and feel the metallic taste on his lips. "Shite" he grunted under his breath as he pushed on his hands to get on all fours. "Bloody fuck, Harper! It's the fifteenth time in a friggin' month! One day they're not going ta be able ta put it back" he said as he took one sleeve to wipe at his face, or—well, more like smear the entire disgusting mess all over his face.

He slowly got on his knees and huffed, frowning until his eyebrows met his eyelashes. Which looked pretty demented. From the corner of his eye he tried to pinpoint Erin's location. He slowly, ever so slowly got on his feet and turned almost in slow-motion to glare at Harper. He then, oh so disgustingly spat to the side, hoping to get rid of the taste of blood in his cakehole. "Ye'd better start runnin' Erin boy-o... 'Cause if I catch ye, I'm'a beat yer li'l wupding arse 'till ye'r thrutching and skrikin like a banshee" he said in a dead-serious tone, as he cracked his knuckles and neck. Because Phillip was such a walking cliché of some scally hooligan. He jumped on the spot for a few seconds then sprinted towards Harper. And Phillip was a bloody brill' runner.

Erin sniggered as Phillip sat up and wailed about how his bloody nose was bloody bleedin'... well, served him right. Erin could admire the mess he'd just made, that Phillip had gotten himself in. He'd provoked him!

And off of that, he almost protested when the other turned on him and warned him to run. "Oi," he even got off, indignant, "I should be chasing you, you daft monkey!" But then Phillip stood and charged at him and, well, it was all just fun and games. Erin scrambled to his feet and took off, wiry legs pumping. He left his schoolbag behind. It would only slow him down.

Erin was a very decent runner too, as Phillip would soon discover. He spent loads of his time running everywhere... or he had, last year, back when he got in proper fights. He would always remember fondly that one time in the Forbidden Forest, running hellbent from Fayette's horse form with his scary mad eyes and great dinner-plate hooves. He'd gotten treed eventually, then they'd had a bit of a brawl, and then Storm had caught them and marched them both to Nagde's hut. Ah, good times. Anyways, he knew the way of it, and now he skidded down hallways and zigzagged abruptly down hallways just to throw Phillip off the scent.

"Sloooowwww," he crowed, and lept over a banister to land unharmed on the steps below.

"Run and hide, Harper, run and hide" he grunted between puffs and huffs as he was increasing his speed. "This me bloody peng nose we talking 'bout, minger! I 'ave every right ta chase ye and bash yer kite in a wall, hear?" he shouted after him, his brows furrowed as he tried to track Erin's erratic moves.

And while the boy-o might be swift and springy, Phillip had the upper hand on tackling and he smirked as he pulled himself over the bannister to land with a thump on the steps Erin had just vacated. Oh, he had him now, height was just the advantage he needed—even if doing this on the stairs was probably not the brightest idea. So he waited until Erin was off the the stairs and he himself was on the last steps to throttle his body forward, hoping the trajectory in his mind would actually translate in his movements.

Well, it didn't—not really. And he felt the air in his lungs escape him completely as he took a belly flop on the stone floor. Genius, this Kinsey was, genius... He let out an almost inhuman grunt and huffed into the carpet. "Jesus, Mary and Jos—bloody hell" he articulately said while trying to get up. " Shag me sideways with a monkey wrench!" he then exclaimed out of breath, while rolling on the floor holding his torso. "Mate—mate! Stop... I think I broke a rib 'ere." 

Erin did skid to a stop, grabbing at a wall tapestry to halt his wild momentum, but he hung well back out of pouncing range. Dubiously he peered at Phillip writhing on the floor down the hall, suspecting a trap.

"Oi," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his head. "Is that what I've got to look forward to in my old age? Merlin's great hairy arse Kinsey, it's just a little stone floor." He crouched where he was, his blue eyes all bright and amused-like as he watched the other boy. "If you're looking for me to kiss it better, you've got a long time to wait."

Still grunting and pouring blasphemy after blasphemy he suddenly stopped, pain still etched on his face and tipped his head back, looking at Erin upside down and attempting a charming smile. That, most certainly did not come out quite as charming as he intended. "Yer breaking me heart, Harper. I know ye want a piece of this" he said sort of gesticulating at—well, his entire body.

He tried to laugh, but it came out as half a grunt, half a huff. Rolling to his side, he put both hands on the floor and pushed himself on his knees. "'M getting too old for this shite" he muttered, seeing as, apparently that was as far as he'd manage to get up. "Lend me a hand cocknobber. I'll patch meself up and give ye a head start, then whoop that scrawny arse of yours seven ways to Sunday, aye?" he said grinning, before scowling in pain again.

"Kinsey," Erin drawled. Now he crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not going to help you, you daft bugger. What kinda idiot d'you think I am?"

He turned his back on Phillip and sighed expansively, his shoulders visibly rising and falling in tempting target. "How the mighty have fallen," he mused to the empty corridor around them. "You never needed a break before. I guess I'll just go about my business then, no worries about you causing trouble."

"Fine, then. See me squirm in pain and misery" he muttered as he attempted to straighten his back only to fall back on his palms. "Jesus fuck, I felt that through my entire body" he hissed as he tried to balance on one hand, while extracting his wand with his other hand. He cast a rudimentary healing charm at his ribs and breathe din relief as the pain subsided for a sec. "Bloody hell" he moaned as he finally got back on his feet.

"Oh, Harper, laddie" he mocked, shaking his head left and right with a grin on his face. "'S merely the wrong kind of activity" he drawled with a smirk. "Ye won't see me asking for a break if the circumstances were different" he continued, wagging his eyebrows, distractingly before he dashed after him again, still hissing at sudden jolts. His ribs were definitely bruised. He was mere centimeters away from actually touching his shoulder, but no such bloody luck, so he huffed and set about it with renewed vigor.

Harper be damned, he hoped he'd just ram into someone else, or  that a wall suddenly appeared in front of him. Bloody knapper.