𝕊𝕆𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔸𝔾𝔸ℕ𝕋║[ᴅ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ]

ᴋᴀᴡᴀᴀᴋᴀʀɪ

Vin entered Gotham Academy with a merry whistle, checking the old clock on the wall as he entered. It was about time for the bell to ring, signaling lunchtime. His father had had a little spill on a stray puddle of blood and razors some idiot henchman left on the floor of the foyer that morning. Since his mother was attending to prior commitments (tea party and shooting range with fellow wives of the family's "business" associates) and his grandparents were on their one date of the decade, Vin had to stay with his father until the ambulance got there to get him to the hospital (he made sure to clean up the blood and sharp edges first).

"When the moon hits your eye just like a big pizza pie, that's amore~!" Vin crooned in Italian under his breath as he walked down an empty corridor towards his locker. He didn't use it often since he had his bag but stored some extra supplies in case he ran out or misplaced them. "When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, that's amor-SHIT!" He's suddenly yanked to the side and into a darkened room. 

Vin reflexively pushed the mysterious attacker against the shelves, making multiple bottles, jugs, and mopheads fall with a crash, and pressed his forearm tightly against the person's neck. It forced a startled grunt from the figure, and they swiped his legs from under him. Vin clung to the other, bringing them along to the ground. Twin yelps sounded through the cramped space, followed by groans as heads smashed against wooden racks and the floor. He and whoever the hell were in a broom closet, judging by the heavy amounts of dust and cleaning items he could discern from the bit of light that bled in from the bottom of the door.

"Bertinelli, temper yourself!" Came a familiar voice, specifically, from on top of him.

"Wh- pal?!" Vin said incredulously.

"Tch, that title still surpasses 'Ian.'" The identified Damian scoffed.

"Not the point right now, pal." Vin groused as the other teenager got off of him and offered him a hand up. He flicked on the light and was met with a grimacing Damian rubbing a spot on his skull. He winced as the dull stab on the back of his head pulsated in sympathy.

Damian sighed, "I loathe having to profess this, but I require your... assistance." He spat out the word with difficulty as he swiped off the dust that had gotten on his uniform during their brawl.

"And you thought it best to kidnap me without warning?" Vin asked incredulously, straightening his rumpled tie.

Damian cast him an exasperated look. "'Kidnap you without warning'?" 

"If I'm going to be nabbed, some heads up would be nice, yeah!" Vin crossed his arms, exasperated. He sighed, "Alright, pal, out with it. What's the issue here?" He asked. From the, admittedly, limited time he has known Damian, he had seen that the boy was highly independent and had never asked for help of any kind. This request could only range from world-ending or outrageously doltish.

Damian sighed, "As you know, Bertinelli, it is late February. This means that that heart-ridden, foolish and unneeded holiday will be upon this halfwitted place presently."

Vin's brow raised, "You mean Valentine's Day?"

Damian gave a scarcely discernable shudder, "Yes. That."

"I hate that fucking holiday." Vin's features screwed into an extreme glower. Damian showed an indication of surprise but quickly played his angry poker face again.

"I would think with your heritage you would have said thought otherwise, Bertinelli."

"Stereotypes, pal. Mio padre is a Valentine nut. Maman could take it or leave it, and my grandparents have already been married long enough to be indifferent to anything more romantic than a half-assed shoulder massage." Vin shrugged, looking off at nothing in particular. "And me? My love language is a dead dialect. No one here will even look at me, let alone ask me on a date. Even if they did, they would have to meet the famiglia and go through the red tape of traditional and proper courting. Anything less, and Maman would go for the rifle."