Open RP: Warning, there is an emo!Brice on the premises.
((Feel free to poke Brice! He needs to meet people.))Brice had left the Hospital Wing earlier that morning, and now he was just walking aimlessly around the school grounds. He was as usual dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt, with a grey hoodie over it for warmth though he technically didn't need it. Angels didn't freeze. And he was an angel again
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But today he had decided to wander around outside, just to get his bearings. He was walking the perimeter of the lake, thinking about how much it sucked to be gay and how he missed Jan Levinson, when he saw a figure throwing pebbles into the water.
A potential customer? Someone who might be able to help deflower him? Or maybe even someone who might be able to help out with some capital for the oil investment scheme he was hoping to get in on?
There was only one way to find out.
He approached Brice, shivering slightly from the cold. "Hey. And who might you be, my fair lad?" Ah yes, Michael's good ol' mock formal voice. So hilarious. Except...not at all. But to him, it was always the perfect way to greet someone!
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He stared at Michael for a second. "My name is Brice de Winter," he said finally. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me 'fair lad.'" Teenage rebels. They don't make 'em like they used to. But he felt like he'd done enough damage as it was, so why not at least be somewhat polite?
Another pebble was hurled off. Brice wished he had a bigger stone to throw. The small ones didn't even make a splash, and he wanted to blow off some steam.
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"All right, fair enough!" he said jauntily, as if the conversation had gotten off to an extremely smooth start. "So, Brice, what brings you out to...this neck of the woods?"
Brice seemed slightly upset, what with the pebble throwing and all, and Michael wondered if this just might be an opportunity for him to provide some more mediation!
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He began kicking around for more pebbles, or more preferably a rock. Anything to keep himself busy.
"Who're you, then?" he asked, in a less-than interested tone of voice, as he scraped more snow off the ground and watched as it fell into the lake.
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He sighed heavily, in a very overwrought manner, as if trying to convey just how much he understood what it meant to be thinking about stuff.
"I'm Michael Scott." He paused and then laughed. "I know, I know, that sounds familiar, right?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a square of parchment and held it out to Brice, an expectant smile on his face...waiting for a reaction. A reaction he was certain he would get.
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"What, you a celebrity or something?" he asked, looking at the parchment. Brice was from the 23rd century. He had no idea where Michael was from, but then, Brice had gotten around both in past and present, and felt fairly certain that if Michael had done anything that was truly worthwile, Brice would have at least heard of him. Which he... hadn't. Ohh. Awkward.
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"Well," he said with a laugh, "you might say I'm something of a local celebrity, amongst the parchment-buying crowds." He quickly added, "And the popular crowds." Being popular meant that people liked you, and that was pretty much Michael's only goal in life, when it came down to it. "I'm the Regional of Dunder-Mifflin Scranton and of Dunder-Mifflin Hogsmeade. We're a small paper and parchment distributor, and what we lack in prices, we make up for in service." Actually, Michael was starting to worry about the level of service he'd be able to provide all on his own here at Hogwarts. If the crew from Scranton didn't get their asses to Hogsmeade soon, he was going to have to start hiring new employees, or at least temps. All the same, he smiled smarmily at Brice.
" I'm also running for Prefect in Slytherin House. You a Slytherin? Because if you are, you should definitely vote for me."
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"Good for you," he said diplomatically, nodding once. "I'm not very in with either crowd. But good for you."
He found a larger stone and kicked it loose from the frozen dirt surrounding it. "Sorry, mate. I'm a Gryffindor." Yeah, some Gryffindor he was. Heroic and brave, that was Brice in a nutshell. The only reason he had ended up in that House was because of Mel. "Good luck with the Prefect thing, though."
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Come to think of it, this guy sort of reminded him of Ryan. He certainly was almost as good looking.*
"So...it's too bad about you not being in Slytherin...buuuu~uuuuut if you're looking for a temp job, I could interview you. We've got a position open." Oh, hell. He was sure the guy would be fine. "In fact, you're hired. You're HIGH-uhd!" He jutted his hand out and repeated, "You're HIGH-uhd!" in a pretty lame imitation of Donald Trump. Then he smiled, trying to contain his laughter at his own hilarity, waiting for Brice to thank him...maybe give him a big hug and tell him he was his hero...that sort of thing.
*((While Michael is not canonically gay, nor is he here at H_H (he only thinks he is, thanks to Molly Weasley's hex!), he does have a bizarre, creepy, canonical man crush on office temp Ryan Howard. Just wanted to clarify in case you don't know his canon!))
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"Thanks, but I'm good," Brice replied, a little warily. "I'm not in the market for a job." Being an angel was pretty much a full-time thing. And even if Brice had been wanting another occupation, he would not have been considering one that had anything to do with parchment. Seriously.
He was thankful for one thing. Michael was definitely a distraction. All of Brice's emo was slowly being replaced with irritation.
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Damn. It was so hard to find good-looking employees these days. Or employees in general. Michael was beginning to get desperate. If the job market continued to be like this, he was going to have to resort to asking that weird short white-faced guy with the acrobatic bowler hat to come work in Accounting...which was sort of a problem, because Michael was hoping to hire somebody more ethnic.
"Weeeee~eeeeell, if you change your mind, just shoooo~oooot me an owl and I~~~ will hook you right up, my man!" He paused and then added, "And even if you don't want the job, we can still hang out...go to Chili's...or Hooters.... What's your cell phone number?"
Yes, Brice, Michael has decided he's your friend. Now that? Is definitely something to emo about. Just ask Jim.
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"Cell phone number?" Brice repeated dumbly and blinked. Oh, right. 21st century thing. This guy was totally ancient. "Ah. I don't have one, mate, sorry. You'd better stick with the owls." But please, don't. Ever. Brice had better things to do than hang out with fossils. Why was he being polite to Michael, again?
Maybe he should go and mope in the common room instead? Though there the risk of meeting Mel was pretty large... She'd have to come down sooner or later. Better to just sneak up to his dorm instead, listen to some Evanescence Astral Garbage and try not to think.
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...unLESS he could figure out a way to charm the parchment to deliver a joke by voice!
Finally, Michael had discovered a use for magic! He would definitely have to pay attention during the next Charms class. If the type of magic they taught at Hogwarts had comedy potential, Michael was sooooo there!
"Okay, well...I'll leave you to your stone throwing." Michael turned around and started to walk away, only to stop and turn back.
"I'll owl you," he mouthed, pointing to himself, putting his hands in front of himself and fluttering them as if they were the wings of a bird, and then pointing to Brice.
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He just nodded at the man, not bothering to say anything. He didn't smile. In fact, his jaw was very tense and he appeared to be glaring. Cosmic outlaw indeed.
Once Michael was gone, Brice was so not into throwing pebbles anymore. He kicked the damn stone loose, and hurled it into the lake. It went splash, and sank like... well, like a stone. It was oddly satisfying. Brice even managed to smirk at it, before he remembered that his emo had now increased times ten, and then he skulked off to his dorm.
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