Catch The Snitch

As he looked at him directly, Lysander respected him enough to do the same, tucking a thumb into his pocket as he walked. He raised a brow about not listening to the spirits costing him more than speaking.

When he said be honest with him, Lysander made a gesture of "Go ahead," waiting for what it was he wanted honesty for. However, the actual question made him smirk in amusement, "Ruins the moment?" he mused, "I hope not, but I am still very curious about you. You caught my attention the second a professor stepped into the middle of a prank war to assist, that Miral wanted your advice in the first place, and then everything from there has just sparked more and more curiosity. I find myself wanting to know what makes you tick," He said, being honest as he said he would be, that smirk only getting slightly more devious on that last line.

He'd be blind not to be able to appreciate Davi, but even rotten things can be wrapped in gold. So far, though, he'd only found more gold, "And I don't anticipate just being given anything just because I'm charming," he chuckled a little, though it was dry kind of wit, more of an acknowledgement he'd done that before, "I'm patient and willing to take the time to make you want to," he hummed a bit, though his eyes never left Davi's face, focused on his eyes, not flinching away from it.

Davi let out a breath he hadn’t quite realized he was holding, the tension easing from his shoulders as Lysander’s answer landed without sharp edges. If anything, it left him… intrigued. And a little off-balance in a way he didn’t mind. “That’s generous of you,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Curiosity is rarely harmless...but it’s rarely boring either.” He resumed walking, matching Lysander’s pace without comment, hands still in his pockets. After a few steps, he glanced over—brief, measured, but warm enough to acknowledge the weight of what had just been said.

“I don’t often think of myself as interesting,” Davi admitted. “Mostly I’m… attentive. I notice patterns. People. When something is off-balance, it’s hard for me not to step in.” A pause, then a softer addendum, “Sometimes to my own detriment.” At the mention of the prank war, his expression shifted; not stern, but thoughtful. “I intervened because I know what it’s like when pranks stop being in good faith,” he said. “When they turn into something meant to humiliate or harm rather than remind someone they’re human.” He shook his head faintly. “I was on the receiving end of worse than what Miral is planning. Enough to know where that line sits.”

His gaze drifted ahead, toward the darkening trees. “And she’s one of my best students. Sharp. Resourceful. Already carrying more of the world than she should have to at her age.” He glanced back at Lysander, something earnest there. “They all are, really. This generation grew up in the shadow of a war they didn’t choose, cleaning up pieces left behind by adults who told themselves it was finished.” A faint smile returned, quieter now. “If they need support: guidance, restraint, or simply someone willing to stand beside them, I’ll give it. That’s part of the job. And part of who I am.”

Then, almost as an afterthought but not quite, he added, “As for what makes me tick… I suspect you’ll find it’s less mysterious than you imagine.” His eyes met Lysander’s again, holding this time just a fraction longer. “But I won’t stop you from taking the time to find out.”