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Everyone in the halls knew that Floyd was in a bad mood, the way his hand was tensing his shoulder. It was like a dent in a glass, one little pressure and he was going to shatter everything. Frankly, no one wanted to deal with that. Rarely anyone really interacted with Floyd on purpose, why would they? He was a loose cannon, a person that would most likely eat them if he had the chance too. (Even if he said it took too much energy, sersiously? Why listen to him about anything like that. He was a known lair for that reason.) Floyd grumbled as he glared at a freshman, some purple haired beastmen in Heartsbyul. Heartsbuyl... Huh, too floyd that actually sounded like a decent place to be at. The roses were strangely welcoming, though they were welcoming to anyone and anyone who wanted it to be. The queen of hearts welcomed everyone, at least, according to Riddle. Knowing Riddle, he wouldn't lie about that. Riddle was a strange kid, a kid who thought grapes of all thing were the most disgusting thing a being could eat.
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"Why did they allow him in?" "Why would risk that?" "Overblotting? A prince?" "Frankly I heard octup-" Riddle had enough, he closed his book a vein almost popping as the libarry filled with silence. Riddle was known as a tryant, sure he was trying to be better. Hell, he worked hard to not let the petty things get to him. Hazelnut tart? He's sure the queen would allow it since it was his dear old friend that made it, but one thing that she taught was tolerance. Something Riddle stride to be, he wanted to be a fair ruler. Even if Leona wasn't or that Azul was a scam artist that scammed his own dormates, they don't deserved to be bad mouthed. Overblotting was painful. It was like the lungs were filled with black tar, sticky and it just wouldn't come up. The suffaction as more and more tar was shoved down your throat, the knuckled bending to make sure you contuined to eat said tar as your muscles stretched to great legnthes to fit the tar. "You four have better things to do." Riddle snapped, his wand on his person. His hand gripping it tightly, one wrong move and these students would lose their magic. The fiber of their being, their muscles constricting in fear. Magic was like blood, and loosing that would feel like death. The students jumped up, Riddle could only thank the queen.
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Why was Riddle bed the most comfabtle? Floyd didn't know, but it smelt like Riddle. A mix of crickets, some sort of berry. Floyd still couldn't tell what counted as a berry and what didn't to be quite have that knowledge yet. Sure, the land was intresting but why would he focus on something he couldn't digust? He thought, even though it was important to him. Riddle, that boy with his hedgehogs and flamingos. Floyd never understood the need for humans, but what he did understand was the safety of his cave underneath Riddle bed. Something he was sure Riddle was not aware of.
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Riddle knew that Floyd sometimes would break into his dorm room and fall asleep undearneath his bed. Riddle did look at a book about it, accoruding to it, though Riddle never had a chance to comfirm or deny this allegation. Floyd found it to be his secound home. Riddle was okay with it, as he could ignore the dusty purple socks peaking out of his bed. He could ignore the comments of Trey and Cater if they were too come in and ask for something. Riddle just wanted to relax, and if Floyd wasn't going to be loud. He was okay with that.
After all, sometimes they just needed to be close too eachtoher.