Hawd on; detention? (Open~)

[Lars Van Der Zant]

<sub>After being flung to the side, Lars cringed against the fabric of his blue striped scarf and fiddled with the material in long, lean fingers, gazing as far away from Sadik as humanly possible. Shrinking down to sit opposite the Turk against the wall, far away from the shards of glass still scattered about the ground; His cheeks were infuriatingly reddening, and guilt pent up inside his chest as he saw the other rubbing his arm forcefully.

That was fucking embarrassing.

Mind still reeling as his heart rate slowed, Lars chastised himself internally a thousand times over. How could he have been so thick? Obviously the door was going to swing in, obviously he shouldn’t have leaned against it. Shit, heart, stop beating so fast.

Lars, you’re absolutely retarded.

Moving his gaze to Sadik once more, he saw the man checking his many pockets. The Dutchman gaped slightly; for someone who had that rapid of reflexes, Turkey was weird.

“Aye, I didn’t ‘njoy that ‘ny more than you might’ve!” He retorted hotly, accent in stronger swing as he was blinded by annoyance. ”Yeh, yeh, thanks. Happy?” Lars ran a hand through his gelled, choppy locks in frustration, it coming down to rest his chin upon. A small spasm of pain erupted on the back of his hand and liquid tricked down his neck. Wide eyed, Lars became aware of a large cut down that part of his hand, whipping out a handkerchief from his chest pocket and wiped away blood. Tying the cloth around his hand crudely, it made for a stupid looking bandage before he could properly tend to it.

”Smokes, y’say?” With his un-maimed hand he plucked a rolled joint and lighter out of an additional pocket and flung it lightly at the taller man. ”Hope cannabis’ll do, all I’ve got 'n me ri'ht now. Your arm alright there?” Lars questioned Sadik, actually desiring an answer.

He heard footsteps in front of him and looked over to find a familiar face walk in the room, staring at him and Sadik like they were mad men. Mathias held an expression of utter shock, probably piecing together absurd explanations for why Lars looked like his eyes were about bug out of his skull, and Sadik about to murder.

“Bad time? Eh, not really... I just fell,” he threw his gaze in the other direction, mortification creeping up on him once again. “What’re y’doing here, Mathias?” He asked, still looking away. Lars decided that if any a dignifying position, curled up against a classroom wall with your knees as high as Vaalserberg, wasn’t one, and made to stand up. His legs felt like fucking noodles.

You’re a ninny Lars.

((I won't lie, I read your post and went KSHFLKASDHFAS YES. Please do join in, I'd adore us all going for a beer or something, :D))</sub>

[Sadik Adnan]

There was no not noticing the blotchy-red shade of distress on Lars' face, and Sadik couldn't deny seeing his company's pain did make him feel better about the situation. But in the midst of this enjoyment a faint, foreign feeling of something that made his stomach flip lit like a match soon to be thrown into an ancient forest. Definitely wasn't that crude incision leaving Lars' hand gaping open – in Turkey's books it would be nothing but a scrape of the knee! Yet every time the Dutchman did so much as grit his teeth mending the cut, Sadik wanted to grimace just the same.

Wanted to; But he'd already done a good deed and any more unnecessary acts of kindness or show of emotions and the Turk would appear soft. In his books, at least. Sadik kept a scowl on his face just the same.

Fiddling with a corner of the ivory mask he so adored, Sadik pursed his lips in an uneven mix of frustration and contemplation. He couldn't have been awake in this place for more than an hour and already the inner turmoil was racking the Turk's mind and body alike. Another debate had sprung while watching the Dutchman behind hidden eyes. (He half-listened as well, the voice was heard but no words were taken in.) Helping the man was out of the question, but accordingly an action as minuscule to Sadik as speaking had to be thought out thoroughly. He wanted to say something, but whatever the Eurasian man spewed was either an apology or an insult, and there was no thinking of something more appropriate to say when the only thought crossing his mind was 'Why the hell do you even have to think about this?'[/b].

As though someone out there was listening to the Turk's rambled thoughts and took pity upon the blunt ridiculousness, he was pulled from the "depths" of his own mind a second time by his reflexes. Though quick, they were crude just the same, and as the oversized cigarette bent in the middle at Sadik's awkward grip, the lighter thrown flew past to slide along a desk and land on the chair behind it.

"Tha' fuck are ya carryin' around pot for?"

So hashish was nothing unfamiliar to the Turk. Hell, marijuana was something he was known for years ago. Sadik didn't have to examine the item in his hand to recognize it – perhaps fondly – but even before the plant was popularly named illegal he'd never heard of someone carrying it around just for convenience, no matter how convenient it really was.

Reaching over with his free hand to grab the arm in question, Sadik almost cracked a smile, only just keeping a stern look on his face. He hadn't even remembered the arm was hurt. "Worry about yourself more," The Turk nodded at Lars, his eyes focused on that horribly patched up hand.

A voice coming from the doorway caught Sadik unawares, assuming it was a more regular person at the school he flipped his head to the side, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight. Still holding his own arm, Sadik let go to bring his hand up in the most swift of motions, a clear thwack! resonating off the walls as palm met forehead. In his own exasperation, Sadik allowed the Dutchman to reply for them, burying his head in his hand while he listened.

Recognizing a question of Lars' to fix, Sadik brought his head up once again, for a moment just noting how much the Dutchman looked like an old person, meagrely attempting to push against gravity. Leaving the blunt he still held on the desk behind him (he would grab it later), Sadik spoke while shuffling his way over to the Dutchman to extend an arm, trying his best to seem apathetic towards the man.

"Int'rested as I am in ya, Dane, got any idea what we're doin' here?"[/size]