Observe her.

Cassandra Mannilow
Level 12 Artificer
<Breath of the Frozen Flame>
HP: 462/462
Relationship: -50

Observe increased to Level 4!

John blinked hard at the pop-ups that appeared in front of him. She was an Artificer?

What the hell is that supposed to mean? his brow furrowed slightly as he read through it one more time. Was it like... like the nurse from the infirmary? Was it something she had gotten from gathering a lot of experience in one particular field? He wasn't sure what it meant though. Was she just skilled at making things? Was it her job?

A frown passed over John's lips as he looked up from the pop-ups and met her steely gaze once more. She didn't look away when he noticed her staring at him. She didn't turn, she didn't blush. She just...watched him... for the rest of the class.

Cassandra, like most of the other rich, genius women who were accepted into the academy, was a fairly beautiful girl. She had long, black hair braided down to her waist in a single braid and light blue eyes. The color in her irises was so faint that even in the bright, light of the classroom, they seemed almost white. It wasn't until he really tried to look into them that he noticed the silvery-blue tint glistening within. Her great looks were further punctuated by the alluring, hourglass-like form of her body. She was a little plump in comparison to some of the more active people at Ashcroft but, in a way, it filled her out. Though it was a little unfair to compare her to some of the people there. John remembered seeing one redhead girl during one of the school's gym classes and she seemed to be just built like a tank.

In terms of asset size, and general complexion, John felt like Cassandra could have given his own mother a run for her money. She was so busty, and so... timid in appearance, that even Frank tried bothering her after class, though that didn't really surprise John. Physically, she didn't look to be all that strong, certainly not in the way that one would expect for someone that was Level 12.

After everything though, John wasn't sure whether or not he should have been intimidated by her, or pitying her. She had stared hard at him throughout his chemistry class, so much so that it would have been intimidating if it weren't for the fact that she refused to say anything and avoided him when it ended. Yet at the same time, she didn't even blush when John so blatantly caught her looking at him. It lead him to think that, perhaps, she wasn't actually shy, especially since she only stared at him more. In the end, it seemed like she might just be weird.

The next hour, for John, was a free period. He didn't separate from Cassandra when the bell rang. He made the opposite decision and charged after her when she stepped out in the hallways. The two of them didn't go very far, after all, it seemed like she had the same schedule he had, at least for the next hour.

Part of John knew that it would have been a good idea for him to take the hour and actually use it. Knew that he should have taken advantage of the time to catch up on the work he had fallen behind on, but he didn't.

"Are you new here?" he asked once they reached the cafeteria. "Sorry, it's just that I haven't seen you around the school befor-" John was cut off suddenly as Cassandra turned and glared in his direction. Her eyes stared daggers into his own and, despite that she didn't actually say anything, John definitely got the message.

<Stop bothering me.>

He didn't follow her after that.

He did cast Theft on her though, grinning at the appearance of the screen when it told him that it was successful.

His day got briefly better throughout the rest of his classes when Frank, the bully that he was, took it upon himself to begin bothering John again. It started off simple, and easy for John.

Frank began tearing off pieces of paper, a few tables directly in front of John, and with the help of a straw, flung a barrage of spitballs in his direction. After the first one landed just short of the young gamer, landing with a wet splat onto the table he was sitting at, it just became too easy for John.

He suppressed the urge to grin at the disgusting, slobbering jock for a brief moment and when Frank had another one ready and his aim was fixed, John activated Fighter's Eyes.

In moments of fighting, of danger, John was used to sayings he heard in movies where things would slow down and the main character would find time to react. During the times where John was actually in moments like that, where Frank and his friends were about to kick the shit out of him... time never slowed down. If anything, it sped up.

Yet it didn't matter how fast it got for John after he used his powers. After he dodged the second spitball, with nothing more than a flick of his head to the side, John felt like he could have dodged a bullet.

Frank merely gnashed his teeth together and tried again, and John began to grind.

It was almost too easy for John after that. With this newest attack, the chance to practice using his new skills was practically dropped into John's lap. All he had to do was correctly time the moments for when he activated and deactivated Fighter's Eyes, and he would only end up using two to three points of mana at a time.

It was like...without seeing the actual imagery of it, John could watch the way his muscles turned and twisted whenever Frank was about to act and with that put together what it was he was going to do. When he leaned forward and his abdomen shrunk, John could see how he pushed to expel the air in his lungs. When the hand he used to brace the straw pivoted and moved as he breathed, John could see where Frank tried to aim, and then from there it was just a matter of moving out of the way.

It wasn't until after the eighth time that Frank missed, and John's mana began to run low, that this game of cat and mouse ended.

"At this rate, Frank, you're gonna have to get some glasses," John chuckled from across the cafeteria. There was a pause, and all the studying stopped for a moment. Everyone watched as Frank tensed up, his face burning a shade of red, and then for a moment seemed like he even might let it go. "Or just give up your spot as quarterback so someone better can do it." ...and then John opened his mouth again, and Frank was on his feet.

"You little piece of shit!" The football player shouted across the room, and physically shoved the table he had been sitting at to the side. "I'm gonna kick your scrawny as-"

Bang!

"Mr. Dickinson!" a stern, scolding tone cut across the cafeteria as John's History and Civics teacher slammed the door open in front of her and took a single step into the room. "Come with me," she said in the flattest voice John had ever heard, and when Frank refused to look away from John at that moment, she followed it up with an order. "Now." Her heels tapped once loudly into the marble floor beneath her, and Frank just...deflated. His eyes pulled away from John and, while he was still red in the face, he followed Mrs. Wentworth out of the room.

Despite how she treated Frank in that moment though, the warning glare that she gave John, after everything he had felt, failed to feel, or thought over the past two days...

John actually felt a shiver of fear run down his spine when she looked at him.