Scrolls and Cats don't mix (OPEN!)

Dale had spent the better part of morning in the library finishing up his essay on policing ghosts and holding them accountable to the law. It was an optional assignment that he had begged insisted the History of Magic assign, although he was sure he would be the only person to hand in the assignment that would not count towards their grades or even get extra credit for, but he was sure he might get something out of it. Maybe a pat on the back, or praise for his ingenuity on the matter. He beamed brightly, as he entered the common room, carefully avoiding stepping on the foot of the black cat as he made his way for the fluffy couches and plopped down, dropping his bag beside him.

It was only now that he sat that he noticed the red mass of hair on the floor along with scrolls, papers books, and an inky trail of cat prints.

Dale grinned to himself, on any normal day he would have bit her head off for the mess, and desecration of the common room (even if not deliberate), but the fact that all of this was over school work made him feel... bubbly. D: And Dale never felt bubbly.

He bent forward and out of curiosity to get a better look at what she was working on. With a gentle tug he pried free one of the scrolls of parchment, partially covered in paw prints and examined the work. It was a research on the property of beetles, first on size and weight distribution, and then to the different types of beetles, spanning from black to longhorns, and even briefly covered ladybugs. The research was well, there.. except there as just one thing that he couldn't help but note.

"Beetles aren't sold in a mixture of random species. When you buy beetles for crushing, or already crushed its typically of the one species, the black beetle for their non noxious properties and their general availability. It would be ridiculous or perhaps wildly inappropriate of a shopkeeper to just randomly collect beetles as they came and threw them into one batch. " he snorted to himself rather obnoxiously at the preposterousness of it all, "Honestly, if that were the case, why stop at beetles? Why not just sell chicken livers in place of ones from dragons, or cow dung for mooncalf dung. You get my drift?" he asked rather pointedly, hardly aware of the fact that she was resting and probably not in the mood to be schooled on the matter.

Bridgette heard someone enter the room but pointedly ignored the footsteps. Hopefully they would walk right past her and leave her to mope in peace. Unless they felt like cleaning up some ink. Unfortunately, the person-- whomever it was-- loudly took place on one of the couches. She proceeded to have a heated argument in her head: did she want company, or want a nap? She wanted to not care about school so much. Why did she have anxiety whenever her work wasn't done?!

She felt a scroll slide out from under her head and sat up sharply. Bridgette hadn't noticed that the person had come so close. She didn't bother adjusting her hair, choosing to blow upward at it in an awful effort to get it to stop tickling her nose. The Ravenclaw boy was clearly younger than her, and had a peculiar face on while he was reading her work. She got into defense mode, ready to yell about whatever he was saying about her essay, no matter what it was. Bloody underclassmen, what does he know?

"Actually," she snapped, snatching back her scroll, "when looking at developing advanced potions, you should be aware of the different properties of species. If we all used the same exact bland ingredients all the time like pre-OWL students," she shot him a look, "there would never be new potions developed, like the Wit-sharpening potion, which uses Scarab beetles." While she knew he was right, she was only required to know about black beetles for the NEWTs, but she liked the argument. Her eyebrows shot up in realization. It was the perfect way to end her paper! She grabbed her quill, scribbling away below the pawprints. Her black cat clawed her way up the back of the couch, greeting the boy.

"Don't get ink on him Abby Cat," Bridgette mumbled while writing, "He might be an asshole, but he's useful."

Dale's eyes widened as she grabbed the scroll back and mentioned the use of other beetles in advanced potions. Of course he'd read about those but he hadn't found it relevent to mention in her essay. Still... he couldn't help but feel his cheeks flush red from missing that one minor detail. He sat there gaping at her even after she returned to her work. How had he never met another hardworking ravenclaw before now?

And she thinks I'm an asshole??

He groaned inwardly at his failure to impress probably the only one of his peers worthy of his friendship. Someone hardworking, bright, with an actual desire for knowledge. He sank back slowly and found comfort in the cat by his side, giving the feline soft gentle strokes as he admiringly watched her proceed in her work, scribbling away without a care in the world. Not even her frustrations could sway her. Well.. she did call you useful. Yeah. At least there was that.

"You do realize that there are virtually no differences between the ingredients that pre-OWL and OWL students use, right?" he mentioned in an attempt to bridge that gap between their ages. "I'm pretty sure even NEWT levels use the same. Just the technique and difficulty in creating the potions changes." he added defensively. Never liking to be looked down on based on age. He'd always seen himself as older than reality, even as a child.

Bridgette continued to write away, ignoring his words until she finished her thoughts. She put the last period on her essay, and dropped her quill like a microphone after a rap battle, clearly proud of her work. When she finally processed what he was saying, she rolled her eyes. "With the changing of difficulty comes more complex ingredients," she told him, less biting this time. Bridgette stood up and reached her hands far over her head, letting out a long pent up moan of relief. She reached down to her toes, her back popping a few times in the process. That's nice...

Leaning back up with her hair finally out of her face, she walked over to Abby cat and she leaped over the side of the couch when Bridgette tried to pet her. "Of course you would you little shit," she spat, taking a seat on the couch. It was large enough that she could stretch her legs out between them, so she threw her feet on the furniture. Abby cat came back, sitting on her legs in arms reach of the boy, but not Bridgette. Typical. "Bridgette Flynn," she leaned over with a grin, reaching an arm out for a handshake, "OWLs or not, you've got a good head on you."