Girls lift too, ya know.

Holy shit, what was this girl's deal? Sure, walking enigmas like her were better than the pricks from his clan, but not by a lot. Rolling his eyes, Kenelm spoke in a sarcastic, obviously fake interested tone. "What do I need to do to find out? Oh how I wonder who this bitch in front of me is! I sure do care about all of this bullshit!" A slight grin appeared on his face as he spoke. It might be fun to see how she'd react to this, to see where this would go. Hopefully it'd be something more pleasant than all of this crap. In the case that things stayed as iffy as they were, maybe at least the next person he'd meet would still have an adequete amount if sanity.

Well, he was definitely clueless. Couldn't he take a hint? Apparently not... Realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with him, Hannah went back to the weight room and grabbed her water bottle, then stood by the boy again. Taking a step away from the guy, she turned around so she was looking at him. "Well, you're not very good company, guess I'll... see ya 'round," witch a way of her hand, she started to slowly walk away, hoping that he would call her back. She honestly had nothing better to do, but if he didn't want her around, why should she care?

"Not very good company? I'm the best damn company you're going to find!" Kenelm called after Hannah as he walked after her. Like hell she was going to just leave like that. "If anything, you're not good enough company for me!" He paused for a moment. Where the hell was he going with this? He didn't know of much to do yet, especially given how there was never much he did except evading death somewhat regularly. Well... he'd stolen a bottle of vodka to replace the one he left behind coming to Beata. At the present time drinking was all he had that besides fighting. But either of those could work. "Yeah, you probably don't want anything to do with me. You don't seem like the kind who could hold their fuckin' drink."

Her way of playing hard to get worked every time. Turning around, she raised a brow, looking at the purple haired student. "Hold a drink? I can most certainly hold a drink," she said proudly, though it was a total lie. Back in Ukraine, she'd never been lucky enough to get her hands on alcohol, much less drink it, but she couldn't look like a loser, not yet anyway. "You seem like the type of guy who has a stash in every corner of the school, so why don't you give me a drink and I'll show you that I can "hold a fuckin' drink," Hannah added with a smirk, freaking out on the inside. What am I doing! I've never gotten drunk before! Well, too late to turn back now.

You don't look like you've had a drink in your life. Kenelm wanted to blurt the words out, but then he'd be risking ruining this arrangement. Given how amusing it would probably be watching this girl get wasted while he could sit back hardly tipsy, he didn't want to take that risk. Without another word, Kenelm turned and his bare feet carried him to the door. Assuming that Hannah was following, he spoke. "You should tell me your name unless you want to keep being called bitch." As for the alcohol, his stolen bottle of vodka should easily be enough for the two of them. He'd simply need to retrieve it from where he'd hidden it.

"Hannah Spencer!" She didn't hesitate to reply, she though he'd never ask. "How about you? What's your name?" The cheery girl asked, following a little behind him. Yeah, she'd never had a drink before, but she was still excited to see what was to come of this odd, "friendship."

"Kenelm Alium-Aquilam." It was a little bit of a mouthful and was certainly a lot less common than Hannah's in about every way. Kenelm didn't particularly care though and he simply continued to make his way down the halls. By now he had stuck idly stuck his hands down his shorts roughly where pockets would be if this particular pair of shorts had pockets. This mannerism that anyone who interacted with him much would see plenty of more likely than not came off as rather strange as well, but once again, Kenelm didn't care. He'd been pretty used to people having bigger problems with him than the fact he would stick his hands down into his shorts on a regular basis.