every rose has it's thorn

Iris yawned tiredly as she entered the great hall and sat at one of the house tables, not really caring which one. She had spent half the night awake in her dorm and and the rest at the kitchens, munching on coffee cake. As much as she enjoyed staying up, it was becoming a pain in the ass to try and stay up during classes.

She put some food on her plate, and played with it with her fork. Taking a mouthful, she realized she really wasn't that hungry and pushed the plate away from her with a sigh.

It was an odd thing for Dameon to contemplate about his old days at the Training Centre during a mealtime. After all, all of his life he had wanted to get away from the place, yet now he was thinking about coming back. Perhaps the Elder was right: humans can't seem to be satisfied with whatever they have.

He entered the Hall and randomly chose a table, and on it was a girl he'd never seen before, so she might be from one of the other years. "You should eat, you know," he remarked, sitting opposite her.

Iris looked at the boy with a raised eyebrow and retorted, "And you should mind your own business, you know." People really needed to stop giving her random advice, it was never going to work anyway. She could tell immediately he was probably from somewhere around here and not from Hogwarts. Or even London for that matter.

"So do you always go around targeting people in the Great Hall?" She smirked.

"This is my own business, now," Dameon replied, staring at the girl. He then fished out some food from the dishes and he slowly ate them, incising them carefully with his knife and fork. He may have grown up in a Training Centre but he was taught some basic table manners. "Surely you need some energy to get through the day, young lady."

Iris watched with amusement at the boy's mannerisms and shook her head. Didn't even realize there were people like this anymore, she thought. She rolled her eyes and said, "What I do is nobody's business, especially a stranger's."

"Young lady? Oh please, not even my parents call me that," she muttered, nearly deciding this boy wasn't even from this era. "Besides, you seem to be nearly my age, so it's just creepy when you call me that," she told bluntly looking at him. "I'm Iris by the way, but feel free to call me Grayson," she introduced herself, getting the feeling he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

"Oh, is it not?" Dameon asked, raising an eyebrow, "I may be... what do you call this - out of the loop? - but even someone as old-fashioned as I have heard of the word 'gossip.'" He took a bite out of his fillet, chewing it like a beat of a metronome on lento before speaking again, "Gossip spreads fast, does it not?"

The Hrabrost shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly, "Whoever said I was from this era, young lady?" He purposely repeated it, but he did not smirk to show he was merely joking. "Grayson?" he echoed, "are you not from Great Britain? You may know me by Dameon, and you may call me by the very name."

"Yeah, you're way out of the loop," Iris agreed and ate a piece of toast on her plate. "Well, this is a school, so it's kind of hard for gossip not to get around easily," she smirked. "And the best part of gossip is you can start it by saying anything you want and it spreads like wildfire," she told, looking straight at the Hrabrost. "Why, heard anything about me? Or you got some gossip of your own?"

"Do not call me 'young lady', alright?" She growled. "Great Britain it is," she nodded her head. "Nope, I don't know you by any name but sure, I'll stick to Dameon. Anything else I should know?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.