Open Give the Brit a Break

[Michael Newton]

Open after @Sydney Townsend

Michael had been surprised he made it so far in the dueling tournament, especially since it was his first time ever competing. While he had felt successful in his conquests, the last battle had ended due to his own theatrics, which was fine in his eyes. He figured Sydney would have won anyway, and he was starting to get bored. With no one getting hit, it was just casting spells rather than actual action. And wasn't that the whole point of dueling? Seeing someone get knocked across the chamber or watching something catch fire? Even though Michael had been pretty impressed by his own improv skills, someone else was seemingly having a difficult time accepting her own... win? The Gryffindor had encountered some kooky characters at this new school, but he was pretty sure this was taking the cake. Who sends notes trying to induce nightmares to someone they beat? And beat fair and square? It wasn't like Sydney had cheated.

Michael genuinely thought she would be happy, but as he finally gave in and headed to the dungeons looking for his former opponent, he couldn't help but have his wand at the ready for fear of being on the unexpected end of a hex. "Oy! Townsend! What is this about?" he called to Sydney, approaching her before quickly dumping a pile of notes on the floor in front of her. "Is this some Kiwi way of expressing your admiration for me?" he smirked.

 

[Sydney Townsend]

Sydney was still livid after the stunt Michael had pulled during their duel. The indignity of going up against an opponent who didn't even see you as enough of a threat to try. And then to go ahead and throw the duel in their championship match. She'd spent the following weeks pacing and plotting, her own champion title, well deserved, felt fake until she'd found some way to prove she could beat Michael without his "help".

It had taken longer than she had expected, but it seemed finally all her notes and lurking in the duelling chambers had paid off and Sydney spun around with a flourish of her robes when Michael finally showed his face. "About time you showed up," She said haughtily, face scrunching in disgust when Michael implied she admired him. "As if," She scoffed, crossing her arms. "I want a rematch. None of your theatrics this time," Sydney explained, pointing her wand at Michael, pleased that he'd had enough wherewithal to already have his own out. She wasn't going to just attack him without warning, but Sydney hoped she was making it clear that Michael didn't exactly have a choice in declining her request now that he was here.

 

[Michael Newton]

Michael raised his eyebrows at Syndey and then gave a big laugh. She had won, and now she wanted to try again? Was there something about a dueling match that Michael was missing? "I didn't think we had to do best 2 out of three," he said, calming himself down a little bit. "That's just part of the game. Dueling is theatrics!" Michael exclaimed, still bewildered by Sydney's reaction to all of this, but he then realized she had her wand pointed at him, and he calmed down evenmore. "Look, what's winning again going to prove? That you're still the champion?" he asked. "From what I'm told, you've won the past couple years anyway so no one is questioning your skill," the Gryffindor assured her. Michael wasn't sure why she was getting so worked up, and maybe he would never understand. But asking for him to tone down his personality was a little excessive.

 

[Sydney Townsend]

Sydney bristled when Michael started laughing, tempted to just hex him on the spot instead of in a proper duel. "No, it's not," she said hotly, "Duelling is about wit and skill," she explained, readjusting her grip on her wand and leveling it back at Michael as her annoyance grew. "Winning proves that I can beat you without you making a fool of us both. I don't need some clown acting like I need their help finishing a duel," Sydney snapped. Of course Michael wouldn't take this seriously, she should have expected as such, but Sydney wasn't about to let him get away with making a mockery of her, her tournament, or her skills. "Everte statum!" Negotiations had clearly failed, so Sydney figured she wasn't going to give Michael a choice here, hoping the knock back spell might goad him into action.

 

[Michael Newton]

Michael squinted at the Slytherin as she continued to work herself up. His hand was definitely on his wand, but at the same time, she was a prefect. It wasn't like she was going to attack him in a public space. "Wit, skill, and theatrics," Michael emphasized, recalling some of his friends' dueling tactics. Why else would there be spells to make your eyebrows grow enourmous or puke out slugs? That wasn't a useful spell, and only a dramatic person would have thought it up when something as stabbing or slicing didn't provide the response they wanted. He was about to tell Sydney that calling him a clown was in fact a compliment when he hurled back into a wall. "What the hell?" he called after finally catching his breath and standing back up. "What are you playing at? Even if dueling isn't about the drama, it sure as hell isn't about attacking your opponent without bowing first," he yelled at her as he slowly bowed and then shot his wand at the Slytherin. "Confundo!"

 

[Sydney Townsend]

Sydney rolled her eyes at Michaels comment. It was clear now she was wasting her time trying to talk any sense into him, glad she'd made the right choice by just hexing the idiot off his feet. "I'll bow to you if I think you deserve it," she shot back, grinning and throwing up a shield charm when Michael fired a spell back. There had been a chance Michael would back off or run off crying to a professor, so Sydney was pleased when he'd decided to actually engage her. Perhaps without some simpering audience he'd actually duel her properly too and not just back off because he was bored or frightened of losing. "You think this is still a joke, right? Rictusempra!" Without a proctor and the threat of being disqualified, Sydney was looking forward to really enjoying this duel. And to mopping the floor with Michael like she should have done in their original duel.

 

[Michael Newton]

Michael rolled his eyes at the girl. "Like anyone actually respects you? Attacking a defenseless Gryffindor unsuspectedly?" he feigned, twirling his wand as Sydney blocked his spell. He knew she was good, and he knew she would probably beat him if he consistently fought in a duel. But it wasn't about that. It was just her general attitude to the whole situation that threw the Brit for a loop. He blocked her next spell and gave a small laugh at her comment. "I just like to have fun and not have a stick up my butt," he joked, sending back a stunning spell and then taking his wand with both hands as he made lightsaber noises. "What if we actually fought with swords of somesort?" he wondered outloud, now focused on his imaginary lit-up sword as he continue making noises, walking dangerously close to the Slytherin like he would pull out another spell when in reality he was in his own play.

 

[Sydney Townsend]

Sydney felt her lip curl as Michael's comment about respect. At least he was finally being honest about his opinion of her instead of hiding behind his ridiculous clown routine for a moment. "I like to think I made my intentions very clear. It's not my fault you were too dense to parse them out," she said haughtily, side-stepping his stunning spell with a flourish and readying her wand to return fire with another spell until Michael's inane chatter detailed her some. "I can cut you again if that's what you want," she said lowly, taking a step away from Michael and the weird noises he was making. Clearly, he didn't intend to take this duel any more seriously than the last and that had Sydney's hackles back up in an instant. Agitated, Sydney shot a slug-vomiting curse at Michael, hoping with him slow close she could hit him easier. Then at least if he was going to talk such drivel he could have some slugs to go along with it.

 

[Michael Newton]

Michael continue with his antics as Sydney responded, continuing to move closer to her. Clearly not paying attention, he felt himself jolted backwards onto the ground, a weird feeling in his stomach. A feeling that he had experienced many times before at the expense of his friends and their slug vomiting competitions. Nevertheless, the movement in his throat and mouth was not pleasant, and Michael immeadiately vomited two slugs on his legs as he jolted up as to not choke on the creatures. "You happy?" he responded to Sydney, coughing some slime out and then picking up one of the slugs. "Hello, frienwhhaAAA," Michael quickly threw up, finding another creature in his other hand. He gently set the slugs on the ground and he went to look for a bin around the room so the slugs could be placed there and not just left to roam the school. "I don't know what your problem is Townsend, but I'm not bothered by a few slugs," he said, grabbing his wand after another slug made its way out of his mouth. "Finite." The boy felt a little relief and placed the 5 slugs in the bin, as he stuck out his tongue at the Slytherin and exited the dungeon to release the slimy things into the wild.

 

[Sydney Townsend]

Sydney grinned when her spell struck true, but her satisfaction was short lived when Michael still seemed unbothered. She grit her teeth as he casually carried on, apparently already so slovenly that puking up slugs was just another weekday for him. But she had won, again, so surely she should be happy. But she wasn't. "Why won't you take this seriously," she hissed, but it was pointless, Michael was already on his way out of the room, slugs in tow, and Sydney wanted to scream. So she did, yelling in frustration in the empty duelling chamber, barely resisting the urge to chuck her wand across the room. Michael Newton was an idiot and she should have known trying to prove she was better than him was a waste of her time. Shoving her wand in her pocket, Sydney stalked out of the room, headed to the common room so there'd be no chance of her running into any more infuriating Gryffindors.