Work Text:
Victor clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Charles kept his gaze towards the ground, desperately avoiding eye contact as Victor carefully wrapped the scrapes on his arms and torso.
Victor tied the last of the gauze around Charles' left arm and sighed. "What was it this time, young master?"
Charles still refused to look Victor in the eye. Despite the subtle ticking in the air, audible in the silence, Victor didn't back down. Finally, Charles muttered, "They were picking on Beau."
Victor sighed again. "Of course. I assume it wasn't Bellabete, as I can't imagine our dorm being actually malicious to our vice, especially with you as the Dorm Head. So, who was it? Froshkong? Maybe even Briarbosse-"
"It was Schneewittchen." Charles said shortly.
Victor blinked incredulously. "Well, I suppose there are exceptions to every dorm, even one known specifically for their kindness. No matter. I'll bring it up with a presiding staff member, and ask Lucien to talk to Neige about it." He crosses his arms and peers at Charles' face. "However, I'm sure that this could have been resolved without outright resorting to violence, young master."
"...I know."
"Good." Victor huffed and leaned back. "Make sure to keep some ice on your bruises for at least ten minutes, a few times a day for the next few days, alright? And for pity's sake, get some rest."
Charles made a non-committal sound.
Victor tilted his head a little bit, his already glassy eyes unfocusing for a second. "It's 9:58. We ought to get ready for bed. Try to talk to Beau tomorrow, young master. If you're going to keep going around defending his honour like that."
"...G'night, Vic."
"Goodnight, young master." Victor smiled gently. "Sleep well."