"Oh thank God," she said. "Je mourrais si vous étiez gai. I really would."

(("I would die if you were gay."))

"Can I aske why you would die if I was gay? Or do I not want to know?" he teased.

Her eyes twinkled and she smiled flirtatiously as she said, "You're much to sexy for your own good." She was speaking with a slight French accent again. "They pain of never having you would crush my very soul!" she said dramatically.

He smiled. She was out of control. "Well, at least you HAVE one."

"Ah, my love. It is only because of you that my shattered soul can stay in place." She ignored the slight jolt of fear through her heart at his words. She knew he was just kidding, but the thoughts that that brought to mind...

((Is this post- or pre-common room?))


He sighed and leaned against a tree. "If you say so."

((post. Because they met each other in the common room))

She grinned. "I do say so."

"Well, just as long as your soul stays put, no problems, hm?" He sighed. "I don't need to worry about that."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked. Her face had gone emtionless again.

"Oh, come off it. You really think I have a soul? Honestly?"

"Yes. Everyone has a soul. The question is, how many pieces is it in? Poetic nuances aside."

"Dust. And yours?"

"What do you mean by dust?" she asked curiously.

"As in too small and too many pieces to count accurately."

"Have you ever killed anyone?" she asked bluntly.