Just can't get along

Isolde saw him moments before he noticed her and she very nearly swore as she straightened out her file papers. She looked back down, pretending that she hadn't seen him at all even as he started to stroll over. Did he really have to, you know, follow her around? Coincidences weren't likely in her mind, even if it was true in real life. He had said he would come find her, and low and behold, he had.

Isolde pretended that she wasn't listening as she turned the page on one of the recruits she was going to hire. "Hm? Oh I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. What are you disappointed about?" She lifted her head and lifted an eyebrow at him. If she didn't respond, if she didn't rise to the bait, nothing could happen. He was tall and all of a sudden very dangerous to her ego, and she did not like that. Not one bit. When he motioned to her letter she looked a little surprised. He was going too?

She glanced down at the tiny print on the bottom, assigning her costume. Maid. Like hell she was telling him she was going to be there in a maid outfit, he'd start knocking things off his desk like a cat and demand she pick it up. Isolde glanced down at the invitation before she folded it in half and stuck it inside of the envelope. "Who, me? Williams has assigned me the role of Napoleon, and one of his junior officers as my Josephine." The lie slid clean off her tongue, trying to not let his drawl grate on her emotions. If she could keep him at bay until this mark was healed, then she could attack him back in full force. "What role did Williams assign to you? I'm sure you would make an excellent jester, or clown. I know a girl who does great make up if you're interested."

Her smile was sugary sweet. She was, however, tempted to bring up something extra... Hell, why not, it would erase the smug for a minute. "Speaking of you being a clown, I saw Necia and Vesta in the grocery store the other day." Now this story would be fun to poke him with. "They were arguing over who was cuter, and complaining rather loudly about your latest demand." She glanced at her nails. "Your djinn seem to be rather loud and angry about having to do your grocery shopping. I think the word they used was... lazy?"

Honestly Isolde had had no idea that he had put the files on her desk. She had walked in that morning drinking the black living waters (coffee) and had told an orderly at the desk that she wanted four specific files. She had detoured to her other departments to check on them and then by mid-morning she had returned, the files neatly on her desk along with all of her other mail. She had just assumed the orderly had picked it up for her.

His words started out as a compliment and Isolde lifted her head to look at him, eyebrows lifting, before it fell flat. She could 'pull off' being an ugly old man. She felt her annoyance rise despite her baiting him with the mention of his djinns. "I thought we established yesterday that I was, in fact, female," she said as dryly as she could. She flipped to another file, double checking over facts she had already triple checked before leaving her office. "Me? Swooning?" She laughed. "Check your face in the mirror Tristan, I will not be 'swooning' at your feet. I'll leave that to your lackey harem." He could show up naked and she would refuse to swoon, that's how high her pride was against him.

Isolde shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her heels were short, just comfortable pumps that matched the regulation dress blues. "I didn't say hi because they were in the middle of tug of war. I wasn't about to step between two pairs of different teeth to get a piece of you in the baguette section." Oh but she couldn't help but smirk, it had been too entertaining to watch the three of them try to grocery shop, both of them trying to outdo the other by finding the biggest or best pieces for the grocery cart. "As for being intimidated by you..." She looked him up and down slowly, quirking one eyebrow up as she rested her invitation and files on her hip. "That is one of the last things I feel about you, Tristan. You might intimidate lackies or other officers, but I know better. You're not scary to me."

Granted, she had never actually seen him angry, but she had seen him annoyed, and it was funny rather than scary. "I thought you had a better relationship with your djinni, honestly, with all the bragging you do about having more than one. Is the stress too much for you?" She glanced at his hair, one of his pride marks. "I thought I saw a bit of gray when we were in the grocery store..." She made a pitying clicking sound and shook her head. "Such a shame, you're so young."

When it came to their bickering, they were like two cats fighting over the same toy. They would bat at each other, they would claw, hell they would even get too close before hissing at each other and then trying to struggle the toy away from the other. But the moment someone walked into the room, pure innocence. It was the same when it came to Tristan and Isolde. Isolde liked her position, very much so, and she wasn't fool enough to try and embarrass him in front of other people, much less superiors. No, the claws were drawn in private when no one else of importance was really looking.

People knew they argued, knew that they didn't get along, and knew about their rivalry (though what they were actually rivaling for was a mystery to all, perhaps even her). They also knew that when it got serious, they would walk away or they would work. That was probably why no one had bothered to say anything to them. They might have had chemistry (strictly in the sense that they were volatile around each other, she swore up and down), but their superiors had better things to do than referee minor cat fights.

Speaking of cats, Isolde twitched when he called her kitten. Did he really have to call her kitten? The wink only further got under her skin. It seemed her little barbs weren't doing anything to deter him away. He must have been in an incredibly chipper mood to be around her so much, annoying her. Didn't he have real work to do? "I don't find you sexy, sorry to be a let down baby." He didn't like constraining his djinn huh? She lifted an eyebrow, but she wasn't a magician who endorsed being cruel to djinn. Djinn might not be human, but they were humanoid, maybe a bit more animalistic depending on what had been summoned. Beating on them did no good for either party. "I'm more concerned that they're going to end up killing each other and you as the onlooking bystander." She shook her head a little bit. Whatever fight they had been having, she wanted no part of.

The door behind her opened and the next person came out, followed by a quick note being slapped on the glass of the door 'Please wait'. Isolde leaned against the wall behind her. If she could have done it in a dignified way, she would have sat down - heels weren't /that/ comfortable after all. No, her words weren't driving him off, and if she said 'beat it' or 'get lost' he'd be all too happy to stay. "Stoop so low? Not ten breaths ago you said I could fit the role of an ugly Napoleon! Who's stooping down to who's level now huh?" He would never insult a lady like that huh? "You had quite a lot to say about my looks yesterday-" She was actually surprised he hadn't made a comment yet about her dress uniform. "--so what's changed from yesterday to today that's made you a good person?" She paused for a minute.

Wait a minute. He was chipper, bright and chirpy this morning, and very happy to be harassing her. She looked him up and down for a moment. "You're in an awful good mood..." There could only be one conclusion as to why he was in such a great mood... He must've gotten laid. "You must've had a date last night that went really well for you to be in such a happy morning person chipper mood." And all of a sudden she felt a strong streak of jealousy. For some very odd, random reason. "So who was it?"

tristan belmont

Eating her words out of her own hand? Hardly. He was annoying, he was mean to her, and he'd invaded her space to leave a hickey on her neck. Just because he was pretty didn't mean he could get away with anything he wanted - especially his behavior yesterday. He had acted like she was the most attractive woman in the world, and he'd used her lapse of reason to put his mouth on her - which was definitely not going to be allowed ever again. She was at fault too, she hadn't stopped him, hadn't hit him like she had sworn she would (although she had yanked his hair as hard as she could). He'd played her like a fool, and she didn't like it, not one bit. But he was acting all tough now, all suave and 'oh look at me I'm hot' speech on her.

She wasn't buying it for one moment. His next string of words, however, made her annoyed expression go slack in a bit of shock. 'You're the farthest thing from a lady I've ever seen... you put yourself to shame.' Isolde stared at him for a moment before she felt anger bubble up in her chest. There was a flash of hurt, a very brief look, before it steeled over into ice. She didn't know why, but that had stung a little bit. Since when did his opinion of her matter? He was annoying, he was her rival who had things come so easily to him, and acted so disgusting about it because of his lack of humility and he'd lap up the attention (at least in her perception. It was one of the few ways that she stayed mad at him). It made her angry, but it made her angrier that his barb had hit too close to home. Her opinion of herself was very high because she'd worked hard for what she wanted, and that included her own self image. Was this his whole plan, to bring down her image? The hickey on her neck would certainly be a great catalyst to spread rumors around, to make her less credible in her own station as Major Savoy. Like hell she would let him get away with that.

"I might have thought of you as good a week ago, until you opened your mouth and proved me otherwise. Don't talk down to me like I'm gutter trash or a whore, I don't care who you are. My opinion of you has been steadily declining ever since you decided to invade my personal space. Your new words of irrevocable flattery aren't helping you either." Her words were icy as she went back to looking through files because she was bound and determined to ignore him now. She was angry, not annoyed, and it showed plain as day on her face. She read through Howard's file for the fiftieth time. The ink was already memorized, but she needed something to keep her from reaching out and whopping him with the file folders.

She didn't want to know about his date now that he'd made her mad, but she'd asked, and he went ahead and told her, and she felt a little angrier as he described the no name woman (who technically didn't even exist). "I am not jealous." She very nearly hissed it because she didn't want to yell outside of her superior officer's office. "And what gave you the right to put that hickey on me to begin with? I never asked for it." She ignored his last question because hell it wasn't his business, and he'd get too much satisfaction knowing her friend thought it was hilarious. Her friend was even taking bets on when one of them would break and they'd -- she had to stop thinking about it. She didn't want to think about Tristan in that way... At least not when she was slowly growing more angry with him.

He was just too good at making her absolutely mad. That was it, this man was designed to drive her crazy. Maybe this was all some sort of divine comedy test, to see how far her patience could go. How much she could tolerate. Isolde backed up when he leaned in (because him leaning in had recently led to a string of bad things, like hickies) and found herself against the wall. Her eyes were practically daring him to make some sort of move, just so she could have the pleasure of digging her claws in and drawing blood.

She had just told him that he had no right to talk to her like gutter trash (half a woman her ass, he wouldn't know what to do with a whole woman if he found one), and there he went, continuing on. Maybe this was more than a test of her patience and will power... maybe he was really just that dense and he didn't realize just how badly he had pissed her off. Maybe she was too good of an actress with the cold, icy aloof bit. "First of all, what did I just say about talking to me like gutter trash? I am at the point where I am waiting for that door to open, so that I can hit you as hard as I can in the stomach to make a visible statement. I am prepared to be suspended for three days - because then it's three days where I don't have to see you and you don't get in my face."

She whispered right back at him because while she was only halfway bluffing about the door opening, she wasn't bluffing about hitting him. The more he talked, the more he poked the angry bear, the more she wanted to. It would be the most satisfying, gratifying thing she could do in that moment, consequences be damned. He shouldn't be this close anyway. How indecent was this, the nerve of him! Almost on cue, she could feel the mark hidden behind her hair throb a little in pain. She tilted her head to look up at him, her jaw set (and maybe even twitching just a little). The movement was enough for her hair to fall a bit to the side, and that Tristan would get to see the blooming purple marks against her pale neck.

He was also too smart for his own damn good, because he realized she was evading, and she was a bad liar sometimes. At least, he always seemed to know when she was lying. "My sex life is none of your concern, mother. What would you know of other's pleasure anyway? You're too busy thinking about yourself that I doubt you would think about how to please a partner in bed. You probably piss them off more than you piss me off, and that's saying something." Again she tried to evade the question because, dammit, she hadn't thought of a counter attack to a line of questions about her friend date last night. Dammit, the truth was probably her only way out - at least then she could get out of this mess. Maybe. "Sabrina thought it was hilarious." If there was such an expression as an 'angry pout', Isolde was wearing that expression now as she folded her arms across her chest. "Not that I have to explain myself to you of all people, but she saw it and started hysterically laughing. She thinks it's hilarious, and she's taking bets of when you're going to ask me out... or if I kill you first. She thinks we have a - what did she say... a 'love hate' relationship." She made air quotes with one hand as she glared at him.




( Awww precious bbies fightingggggg~ <3 tristan belmont )

Isolde started to mentally count backwards from one hundred. It took concentration, but he was baiting her. Baiting her so well. Dammit. "Oh, you're going to make me regret it? You going to sexually harass me yet again?" She leaned backwards against the wall and eyed him for a minute and his posture. The arm resting above her head, the way his head was tilted in, close enough to... This was like the cover of some romance novel, except she wasn't the dewy eyed heroine who was flustered and aroused for the Fabio leaning over her. All that was missing was the plaid tartans and kilts!

Isolde tensed as his hand reached up and touched her throat and the swollen mark on her neck. There was a quick intake of breath, out of surprise, and a quick swallow. She watched him with intensity as his fingers touched the mark. The hair on the back of her neck stood up at the ghost of the touch and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Suddenly his little 'corner against the wall' routine was stifling and she actually felt like she was enclosed and trapped now. As if she could wave his words away like smoke, she waved her hand between their faces and put her hand on his wrist and pulled it away from her neck. "Probably because they were paid to give you positive reviews." The imagery annoyed her. She didn't want to think about him and some faceless, nameless woman. Women. Although, she knew there were several cadets who would have given up their spell books for years if it meant having Tristan in their bed. Her annoyance and anger were just bubbling now as she held his wrist still, glaring at him. This was getting too out of control, she needed to take the reins back. She prided herself on self control, didn't she?

Why was she getting so angry? She had no claim on this man in front of her, and he had no claim on her. He was just trying to make her angry, and he would win. He would win! The thought spurred her competitive side and she finally managed to push her anger down into a box. If she saw this as a game, as a challenge, she would win it. Isolde let go of his hand and pushed her braid over her shoulder, exposing her neck as she stood up straight. She was a damn magician, one of the top in her class (aside from the very annoying blond in front of her who had always come out on top), and she would get it together. Did she really think that Tristan could beat her in games? She scolded herself. How could she think so low of her own competence.

As if a light switch had been flipped, Isolde's angry expressions smoothed out and she actually laughed, although it was condescending. "You? Ask me out? Unlikely. You'd never keep up as a lover, much less 'give me what I need'." She lightly tossed the phrase back at him. Isolde lightly put her hand on his chest and started pushing him back away from her as she moved forward, closing the distance just a little bit. This power play game? This was about to be over. "Darlin, you aren't my type, just like I'm not yours. I need someone who's going to actually give a damn about someone other than himself. A partner, someone who's not afraid of getting their hands dirty when it really counts." She looked over his appearance briefly with a smirk. "Although you look like you could use a shower." She straightened out her uniform dress a little bit and brushed at her skirt to straighten it up more. She lightly patted his cheek. "Go ahead, run along now and do some real work, okay~?"