Week 31, Broadleaf Hall, just after the last classes of the day
As students make their way from their classes to whatever occupies their time afterwards, the sound of an arguement can be heard from one of the rooms. At first it seems to be one-sided.
"No! N-fucking-O, you pasty faced twig." Spindle's shrill voice tears at the eardrums of anyone passing by. "Now go screw a corpse or whatever is you do when you're not creeping about."
There is a soft murmuring from within.
"What, you don't understand? Has your brain rotted? Go away! Don't ask again!" Spindle storms into the hallway backwards. His books are clutched under one arm, the other occupied with giving the finger to whomever is in the room. The Nocker's dirty and worn shopcoat flaps as he spins about.
"No! N-fucking-O, you pasty faced twig." Spindle's shrill voice tears at the eardrums of anyone passing by. "Now go screw a corpse or whatever is you do when you're not creeping about."
There is a soft murmuring from within.
"What, you don't understand? Has your brain rotted? Go away! Don't ask again!" Spindle storms into the hallway backwards. His books are clutched under one arm, the other occupied with giving the finger to whomever is in the room. The Nocker's dirty and worn shopcoat flaps as he spins about.