#[ RIP to Bernie in the Shubbery...

[crimsonretainer]

@encantresse cont. From here

THE THOUGHTS ECHOING IN HIS HEAD are utterly confusing for someone that who tries his hardest to suppress any semblance of emotion to distract him from his tasks. Yet... it's not entirely unpleasant if he were to admit it to himself, Dorothea's presence is... warm, he's heard her described as a beacon in the dark before and yet it's only in the moment that he can understand why students so eagerly flock to her like moths to a flame.

The fleeting look of betrayal in her eyes before the gaze is drawn upwards is more potent than any knife will claim to be. Fuelling the dark ire that his magic feeds upon and promising an almost stern visit to the opera in search of whomever has made it almost familiar to her. He's thinking almost irrationally, and yet Hubert grips to reign in the dark magic curling in his fingers.

He can't put the mask back up before she's talking, offering only the barest hint of a smile to the woman he's trusted with more and more secrets of late. "Perhaps... unless you intend for Bernadetta to faint on the spot." The tone is teasing in a way that's uncommon outside the coffee mornings where he knows no one is liable to wander in, except here, and now they're standing in the middle of a classroom without any way to disguise the conversation.

He's become more observant now, to the way her eyes have a light to them, he's clearly ignored in the past, the way that mischievous smile seems all the more fitting that the fake smiles he's seen her wear in front of boys he's always considered to be rude for approaching and disturbing so suddenly. "Enticing isn't it?" The smirk on his features is natural looking, relaxed as he willingly lets the mask hang from his features rather than allow the walls to shoot back up. "Careful now, wouldn't want people to think the mistletoe has somehow managed to swap our personalities..."

The hand lightly holding her cheek is dropping away as they step apart, and yet, it seems for the first time he's looking at her rather than through her, something has changed fundamentally, and it's become scary in a way with how fast the currents of his thought shift, like someone has begun to dam a torrential river within him. "Never happened is for the best, yes." At least until he can figure out this puzzling change. That lean is dangerous, but only for the reason it shows a side to the songstress he has clearly failed to account for. "Hmm... You do realise, Dorothea, that to bring up the fact I was blushing is to incriminate yourself as the cause." A completely playful barb, a side of him that etiquette lessons have failed to smother completely.

Ah, that wink, it sends his thoughts spiralling once more, and unlike the last time it seems he too has been dragged away with the current as he reaches upwards to pull the enchanted mistletoe down. The sleeves pulled back reveal the trademark of magically overexertion as he burns away the enchantment he'd tried to subtly nullify before she reached him, calling out just loud enough to hear.

"Tomorrow at Eight, of course, 'Thea..."