Ashil felt a chill crawl up his spine once again when Andrew actually met his gaze. There was power just in the other boy's eyes, never mind the tattoo marks. Ashil felt a regret lock up his stomach, then his throat, and cut off every single response he had brewing in his mind. Andrew's shift alarmed him, the sudden suavity, the confidence -no, [i]superiority[/i]- in his voice was in its own way, frightening. 

He visibly flinched when Andrew touched his hair, sucking in a sharp breath. But that was all, he didn't react, he didn't hiss, or spit, he did nothing. For a few moments after Andrew had stopped speaking, Ashil just stood there, tilted like a statue about to fall, a few blinks the only thing to signify he was still in his own head. Then all at once he recoiled, and his expression caught up with his mind; first shocked, incredulous, and then firmly hateful. His teeth clamped together as if he had any words to say, any clever comeback. 

"I'll make you regret that, you [i]worm[/i]," he might have yelled the words, but embarrassment had constricted his throat, and flooded his cheeks. Instead, he adjusted the tie beneath his vest, stood up straight, and, giving Mai another foul look, whirled around on a heel and stormed back to his seat at the front. 

Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. He could practically hear Apep screaming at him, and was sure he'd pay for it later. The encounter had not at all gone as he'd expected, and where he expected to have a step forward, he instead had a plummet down past where he'd started. Damned pretty-boy, Ashil had underestimated him out of sheer habit. That's how it went, usually, an underestimation was the first step in his defeats. He'd forgotten this time he'd been playing to win. Though he couldn't help wondering if that would have really mattered.