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[retrieverchef]

WHO | Eliot Spencer and Draco Malfoy
WHAT | Trying to spare the kid some trouble
WHEN | The evening after this video
WHERE | Rooftop garden at the Training Complex
WARNINGS / NOTES | Possible language

Eliot wandered around the garden, keeping fairly close to the elevator in case the blond kid actually came. He couldn't say he expected him to show up after their conversation on the network but he'd said he'd be here just in case. He really hoped the kid would show up soon. He had an overnight appointment starting shortly before dinner.

Comments

[retrieverchef]

Eliot looked the kid in the eyes. "I know you haven't been here as long as I have. I know you haven't been sleeping around the city which means you still have that much freedom left. And I want to keep at least that last true as long as possible."

[mudbloodhater]

"Well, aren't you a special one. Just off trying to save every last person you come across, is that it? I don't need your help," he snapped, finding it so much easier to tell this man off than Snape. He had things to do, and this Arena bollocks wasn't part of that.

[retrieverchef]

Eliot took a deep breath. Yelling at the kid wouldn't solve anything, no matter how tempting it might be. "Let me put it this way, then," he said bluntly. "Do you want to get tortured? Do you want to be a whore?"

[mudbloodhater]

He rolled his eyes in obvious disdain. "I really don't see how either of those things have anything to do with all of this."

[retrieverchef]

"Look, they've done it before now," Eliot said quietly but urgently. "If you attract their attention beyond being able to survive the Arena, you could easily be next.

"And... I highly doubt they will ever let us go home, even if they find a way to send us back. They're too invested in how they can use us."

and this is where he says 'my father will hear about this' okok.

[mudbloodhater]

"That's not an option. I have to get home," Draco stated, his voice dropping into a low hiss then; he leaned in slightly, his glare threatening, even for a sixteen-year-old. "I have things I need to do, and this isn't one of them. And if I find out you have anything to do with this, you're going to be sorry."

which is where Eliot says "your father ain't here and I ain't scared of him if he were"

[retrieverchef]

Eliot's voice matched the boy's. "And I need to be home, protectin' my team," he countered. "I don't want you or any of the other kids here. But we're all goin' to haveta find our own way back. Which ya won't be able to do if they're keepin' ya busy sleepin' with half the city every week."

rude. lucius is totally scary. 8(

[mudbloodhater]

"I'm not a bloody child," he snapped, wishing more than anything that he had his wand on him, that it worked, that his magic was more than just a familiar tingle flowing through his veins. It was like he was stopped up at the edges somehow, unable to make anything more than the most basic magic work. His ire was getting the best of him, showing not just through his face, his voice, but in the faint waver of the nearby plants as they reacted to the magic radiating off him in palpable waves.

"And you would do well to remember that."

He didn't want to think about them forcing him to do anything. He didn't have any business being there in the first place; they weren't the Dark Lord, and they didn't have that power over him.

He has a wand. That is no scarier to Eliot than a gun. He can move fast enough to dodge any spell.

[retrieverchef]

Eliot looked closely at the boy. "Maybe not," he conceded. "But you're not a man yet either. Look, do what you want with what I told you. Just... Be careful. And don't assume that who you are back home means anything here."

He started walking toward the elevator. Time to see what Valeria had picked out for him to wear tonight and hope it wasn't too ridiculous.

tsk. those spells are pretty quick, bro.

[mudbloodhater]

The warning had lodged itself somewhere in the back of his mind, but like anything, Draco wasn't about to acknowledge that in any regard. Especially not from this prick of a man who thought he could tell a Malfoy what to do, or threaten him with thoughts of getting whored out. He was a Death Eater, after all - he was capable of things no one was giving him credit for. The last Arena was a write-off; he hadn't been prepared, he hadn't understood, but this one would be different. That's what he told himself as he glared at Eliot's retreating back, sneering at him all the while. He didn't deign to offer a response; he just turned away, moving to circle the gardens on his own time, acting as though he was too good to be anywhere near there.