[i]Cassidy Lynn Daniels[/i]

The dancing bear had arrived. Cassidy gave Titus a once-over. Big hoss, wasn't he? Looked to be Irish or Scottish with the hair. Hmmm. If he was Scottish, that would explain things. [i]There can be only one.[/i] He was standing standoffishly-defensive, beady eyes scanning the room. Was the boy expecting a fight? He was strong, and Cassidy was at terms with the fact he'd thrash her in a fight (the image of a wasp darting between an elephant's swinging tusks came to mind), he couldn't possibly hope to stand against every meta in here, could he? Starting a fight-as the beast that prowled the Academy's twilit halls had learned-was suicide. 

Ah. What was that old quote? To the man with only a hammer, everything looked like a nail? Perhaps it was less that he seriously meant to, but rather that the dog knew only how to bark and bite. For the sake of the room's furniture and her own limbs, Cassidy was rather pleased Titus was choosing the former. "Nothing new under the sun," she quipped in response to Titus. She initially assumed the reference would fly over his head, but then paused to consider if it didn't-ooh, imagine that kind of brawn and a wit to match. He'd be quite the little showstopper, wouldn't he. Titus was such an intruiging figure, like a circus elephant, or a boxer in a ring. At the end of the day all the sleight of hand in the world wouldn't stop a punch, now would it? Cassidy admired finesse and grace and all the finer things in life but there was a part of her that had a healthy respect for brute raw force and Titus was certainly that.

Cassidy rolled her shoulder and fingered the cowl of her coat with one hand, letting the other hang idly at her side. A quarter rolled across her knuckles absentmindedly, flipped along finger by finger. If only she had chosen pushups or something as a nervous tic, she'd be on par with the Scot at this point.

"A woman who takes charge," Cass smirked as she interrupted her brother. Little brother? She got that vibe. Lupe had that "protective older sibling" body language to her, that "we're cool but if you fuck with him I end you" undercurrent to her actions. That was cool in Cass' book-she didn't really have anyone she had that kind of loyalty to-([i]she blinked and a hundred different old ruinous memories ran through her mind as a reminder of why, exactly, Cassidy shied away from intimacy[/i]) but it was lovely to see in others. Diego (ooh, was that a flash of irritation at Titus? Male rivalry was so much fun to watch-they'd be so busy glaring at each other, they'd never notice half the tricks she could play) played a rather nice song. Nothing mindblowing, but for a teenager with a guitar it wasn't bad. 

How elitist of her. "Brava, brava, bravisima!" Cass said with mock formality, giving a golf clap. "That was good, though. Might be better if you tried, ah, smiling?"