<div class="floatleft">(https://24.media.tumblr.com/d32e64c7793514dd2ee9190f2b890625/tumblr_mzsfxr3auR1r7wrq1o1_400.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong>Gustav Giuseppe Beauvais<br/><strong>Year/House:</strong>Second Year, Bellefeuille<br/><strong>Relationship Status:</strong>Attached<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>white shirt, slacks, dress shoes, and suspenders (https://24.media.tumblr.com/9b1597461e7b37d3f7cf74f1f56728c4/tumblr_mzeyf42ZIQ1t6yu02o1_500.jpg)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>In a Carriage<br/><strong>Date:</strong>September 1<hr/><br/>Her voice was shriller than a blackbird's when she raised her voice in anger. Gustva visibly winced before he noticed it was not his words which bothered her but his actions. More specifically, his finger. Well, maybe not. Women, like her, tended to become harpies at the smallest infraction. Upon noticing the bright blotches of blood on her pristine shirt, he genuinely felt horrible because ruining it was not his intention. Quickly, to avoid accidentally flinging around his blood, Gustav wiped his hand at the dark black fabric of his slacks and tried not to grimace openly when it stung with agitation. He held onto the faintest hope that perhaps it was not too late to rectify the situation. "I didn't mean—."<br/><br/>The apology did not even make it pass his lips because Claudette had already rose from her chair with intent to force her way by him. At first, this did not bother him because he considered what he would gain by her leaving. Not one but two seats in the process. He could spend the entire ride to Beauxbaton's with his feet up and not a care in the world other than moving them once someone tried to walk by. Yet, the good natured part of him would not allow it. He never wanted to oust her from the joint chairs. He just wanted one. "Will you please stop yelling—." Of course, Claudette interrupted him again although not with her viperish mouth. This time, she surprised him with a full body collision. Gustav would have preferred the verbal lashing. He held out his hands in front of him like a zombie rather than protectively engulf her in his arms like he would any other female. Females behaved like civilized at least. Still, he did not want to let her drop to the train's floor like a hot potato because Claudette was much worst the vegetable. Potatoes could not box his ears until he ran at top speed seeking sanctuary.<br/><br/>He gulped hard when she stared up at him with the embers of hell burning in her eyes. "I'm<em>really</em>—." Would he ever manage to complete a sentence with this woman?! By this point, Gustav was ready for her to slap or hex him in order to be done with it. "I'm not manhandling you, you—." This time, he stopped himself because calling her a loon was not right even if she embodied those characteristics perfectly right now. His neck felt like someone poured hot wax onto his skin when Claudette started to struggle against him. Gustav was very, very happy in his relationship back home with Marie but she was not as pretty as Claudette nor did she have those curves. His face burned hotter until the tips of his ears glowed. Gustav was growing an erection despite his best attempts to think of her foul mannerisms. His bag tumbled over when he finally wrenched himself from contact with her.<br/><br/>Before he could even catch his breath or wipe the nervous glean of sweat from his forehead, the situation turned from bad to worst. He should have known. Where Claudette could be found her friend, Constance, was not too far behind, which also meant boy extraordinaire and lapdog, Etienne, would be at her heels. And attached to his fur would be the ticks, Abel and Kenneth.<br/><br/>"Shit," he cursed under his  breath when they began to hurl insults and literal paper in his direction. 'Course, the cad's aim was true and the balled up parchment managed to whack him against the side of the face. Humiliation glinted in his eyes before he turned away from the rowdy trio and glared angrily at Claudette. If she had not been such a nuisance then they would not have garnered attention from her pals. His fist balled up but then unfurled just as quickly. Ignoring the boys', he walked forward and unhooked his pissed off owl from her place. "I'm sorry for messing up your shirt." With that, he bent down to pick up his bag then made his way down the train aisle again in search of a seat, ensuring the cage was slightly in front of his pants to avoid someone noticing his condition.