Fending

[Elsa Bellefonte]

"You were doing moderate," replied Elsa, half meaning it. He certainly had done better than others. The quickly vanishing room in her stomach proved that all too well. She had even slowed down in eating the food, taking a little more time to enjoy it. Though it wasn't as if she could really wolf down something standing up and using a fork. She wasn't like some students here at the Academy, after all.

Though she could've done without the comments about how one date with her was enough. True, she happened to say as much to just about everyone, especially those that expressed anything resembling interest in her.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I actually want most people afraid of me?" asked Elsa, waving her fork about with a casual air. "Reputations are important. If you build them well, they can work for you. I've spent years making sure people know that I was the bitchy Bellefonte, and that's who I want to be,' she added another shrug, then moved to get more of the food. "Though I do suppose that supports those charitable thoughts you'd been thinking about me earlier. Interesting how that turned out."

[Scott O'Riley]

Chuckling, Scott shrugged at the mediocre compliment given. "Guess I'll take it." He said, like it was such a burden.

Elsa's retaliation made Scott pay full attention to her. He briefly wondered what could be her motivation to become the bitch. Scott's thoughts instinctively went to Erika. He was now convinced that Erika was the reason why Elsa felt the need to build such a reputation for herself. He didn't quite understand it but he supposed people had different reasons behind building reputations that may or may not be a reflection of who they actually were.

"You chose one hell of a reputation." Scott chuckled and shrugged. "But I guess someone has to be the bitch, huh? We won't want everyone to be shooting rainbows out of their asses and sing "Let It Be" from the rooftops, do we."

[Elsa Bellefonte]

Elsa snorted at Scott's summary. Yes, yes she had picked one hell of a reputation, and she hadn't looked back. Though she detected a rather high degree of sarcasm in Scott's words, that didn't make her agree with them any less. She simply took another bite of the food, chewing carefully. As she did, Elsa briefly flirted with the idea of complimenting Scott on it; he had done well, after all.

"I think you mean 'Let it Go,'" said Elsa instead, nodding and gesturing toward him, "unless you really think that someone would be more interested in belting a version of a Beatles' song," and the only reason Elsa knew that was because of a few random run-ins with people with odd tastes. She looked at the dish, considering it.

"Why does someone who my parents would think worthy of my marrying know how to make a dish like this?" she asked, gesturing with her non-utensil hand. the pause reminded her of how much cheese she already had in her system, and she could certainly appreciate it. "Was it just something that you taught yourself? Or is one of your parents the crazy survivalist sort?" Elsa had met a few of those in her social stratum who believed that you needed to be ready for the inevitable government collapse. They were a hoot at parties.

[Scott O'Riley]

"You would have more knowledge on that though, won't you?" Scott referenced the ridiculously overplayed Disney song, though it was definitely not what he meant. "Hippies love the Beatles. And we're talking about people who aren't bitches, aren't we?"

The question about his culinary skills made him shrug. His parents were not crazy survivalists. They were just crazy. "My father didn't believe in coasting. That whatever we did, we had to do it for ourselves. That included being in the kitchen knowing the difference between sautee and stir-fry." He chuckled, shoving another forkful of pasta, mushroom and meat into his mouth.

"But that doesn't exactly explain why I was sent to dance lessons though. So there's that."

[Elsa Bellefonte]

Elsa rolled her eyes at the implication regarding the song. Yes, she had heard the song, far more often then she cared to admit. She found the whole thing overplayed and annoying; as far as she was concerned, the fad could die a horribly death. Elsa also elected to let the comment about hippies not being bitches more or less lie there. She was far more interested in his answer to her question.

Which worked: Elsa nodded, believing that a father could demand something like that. Usually happened with either new money or old money who were worried about creating lazy, dependent children who just weren't worth anything. Did make her wonder some about where Scott ended up going. She considered that, though she still took one last bite of the dish.

"The explanation for that is quite simple, actually," said Elsa, nodding as she set down her fork. "Most of the older generation appears to believe that dancing is the way to a woman's vagina, while cooking his how women get to the man's organ. In my experience," she smiled teasingly at Scott, "it's been the other way around."

She backed up then, looking at the dish, which still had quite a bit. She'd gotten what she'd come here for, but it did feel rather rude to head off now, in the middle of a moderately pleasant conversation and all.

[Scott O'Riley]

Raising an eyebrow at Elsa's almost suggestive remark, Scott couldn't help but smirk at how the tables have definitely turned. "Are you telling me I have a chance at your vagina?" He chuckled, not actually expecting her to say anything positive.

Scott continued to eat, not really having any trouble loading up on anything food-related. His ability helped burn everything he ate.

"If so, you should have told earlier."

[Elsa Bellefonte]

Elsa said nothing. Instead, she walked to the fridge, pulled out a water bottle, and cracked open the lid. She closed the door while taking a swig out of the bottle. She swallowed. She walked back over to stand near where the kitchen opened up to the cafeteria and leaned back slightly.

"Maybe," she said teasingly, raising her brows a bit. Then she took another swig before settling into a smile not unlike a feline's.

[Scott O'Riley]

Elsa's response made Scott smirk, a chuckle escaping his lips as he scooped some pasta in his mouth.

Turning to look at the other teen, Scott gave her a once over and raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't peg you to be frisky." He teased. "Not complaining though."

[Elsa Bellefonte]

"Frisky?" repeated Elsa, raising her brows. "Most people don't use that term. I usually get sassy, though some people do seem to like snarky as well." This did nothing to diminish her smile though. She took another swig out of her bottle, still half-considering Scott. It did sound like she was flirting or something, didn't it? She didn't think she quite felt any real attraction to Scott, though she felt... the potential for it? He intrigued her, and she didn't mind being in his presence. Certainly not his fault that her sexuality worked in strange ways.

"Though it's the surprise that always gets me," she replied, sighing and setting the bottle down. She tapped her fingers on the table for a moment before looking over at Scott. She raised a brow once more, giving a closed lip half-smile that looked as though its father had been a smirk. "I suppose you're someone who thinks I never have sex too, hmm?" She did love throwing that out. She technically had at least as many partners as Erika, if not more.

[Scott O'Riley]

"Sassy doesn't exactly fully explain you offering yourself to me, does it?" Scott asked with a smirk. Admittedly, he still wasn't entirely sure if she actually wanted that from him. It was weird simply because he was more used to knowing when girls wanted him or not.

Tilting his head slightly to the left and lifting his left shoulder just so, Scott gave her a look. "Not really." He shook his head. "I'm nowhere near implying you're...loose but I always thought it's more a dominance thing for you, not that you don't at all." He admitted with a small smirk.

[Elsa Bellefonte]

"Ah, but you're assuming I meant it," replied Elsa airily, flicking her hand dismissively. She didn't see any reason to elaborate on that: Scott could figure it out easily enough. Playing around and, as he was quick to state, asserting her dominance was just part of Elsa's modus operandi, really.

Though she had to chuckle. "You talk about me like I'm some kind of dominatrix, which I suppose is partially accurate," she said the last in a light teasing tone, again smiling ever so slightly. "Though clearly you haven't been paying attention to rumors: all the Bellefontes are loose as can possibly be. We'll take just about anyone to our beds, and not a one of us cares a whit for sex. We do have taste though."

She raised her brows, twisting the smile into more of a challenge now. The message was clear: did he suit her tastes? And could he make himself more appetizing if he wasn't?

[Scott O'Riley]

Looking down at the casserole dish, he wondered what he should do with the remainder just as Elsa responded to him. A smirk appeared once more before he straightened up and walked over to her. Scott towered the Bellefonte princess by a foot and he used that to his advantage. He propped his arm up against the nearest wall he could find and looked down at her.

"You didn't?" He asked, an eyebrow raised.

Her confirmation that his thoughts were actually accurate gave him reason to smirk even deeper. The challenge was one he had expected, coming from Elsa. Of course she was the kind of girl that would make someone work for it.

"So I'm guessing you won't just turn to putty with a well placed hand," he paused in his speech to raise a hand, sliding his fingers against her neck and pushing her hair over her shoulder. "And a charming smile?" He leaned closer to her, the thumb on her neck running over where her pulse was.

[Elsa Bellefonte]

Elsa shook her head slightly at his question, confirming it. No, she hadn't, more or less. Though it was so much fun to play around, especially with someone like Scott, who had quite a bit of swagger and confidence, not to mention some actual intelligence behind all those little flirtations.

"I'm not one to turn to putty in anyone's hands," replied Elsa. She was actually pleased to not really react to his playing with her hair. She simply raised a brow at him. "Also, your smile is a good deal less charming then you think," she raised a hand to point at his teeth, "I think there's some pasta in there," again with the smirk. It wasn't wholly an act either: Elsa wasn't one to go all fluttery for someone, even if they'd made quite the flirtation move.

It certainly helped that Elsa needed to feel some sort of appeal toward a person before she felt the attraction. That whole mess was all tangled as far as she was concerned, but she knew one thing: she didn't harbor any romantic feelings toward Scott O'Riley.

"you're not even making me feel weak at the knees," she drawled, raising her brows ans smirking.

[Scott O'Riley]

"Well damn." He chuckled, removing his hand from her, shrugging in agreement to her statement. He should have known better. This was Elsa he was talking to. She wasn't called Ice Queen for no reason.

"Well hey now. Dissing my MO? Hardly fair." He paused and shook his head in amusement. "Then again, why am I even surprised."

Scott's lips protruded, not at all out of petulance, but more in a contemplative manner as he backed away from her. "In due time." He raised an eyebrow, looking at her fom head to toe.

Turning around, he grabbed the casserole dish and slipped it into the fridge. "Hey, if I didn't manage to do that with my cooking, then there's definitely something wrong with my methods." He didn't know how genuine his sentiment was but he went straight to the sink where there were still a lot of things to be cleaned up.

Looking over his shoulder, Scott looked at Elsa with a small nod. "You're welcome to help. But I don't wanna ruin your manicure." He smirked before picking up a pot to wash.

[Elsa Bellefonte]

Yes, that was the standard reaction, though its commonplace nature didn't diminish Elsa's amusement one whit. She kept up her sly little smile as Scott backpedaled, clearly amused by the whole situation. The challenge that followed also happened to be relatively commonplace: it was either that or a harshly growled "bitch," which would've been out of character for the smooth operator.

"Well, you know the saying: you can't win them all," she said, raising her brows. She followed him with her eyes but made no motion to move. The temptation to make another snide comment arose within Elsa. Her sister had fallen for kitchen staff before, after all, and the connection between Everett and Scott struck her as being particularly potent right then.

However, she instead opted to remain silent and stationary, watching as Scott moved about. "Well, I wouldn't want to do that," she said, looking down at her hand, moving her fingers a little. "I did pay good money for this. besides," she said, looking up at him, "you're the one who's eager to impress here, not me. I'm sure girls think dishwashers are hot," she gave him a few wiggled fingers before heading for the door.