Victor’s smile only widened - and there was possibly a hint of honesty in it, too - when an infuriated Mondai began to echo his words before suddenly deciding that he looked like a proper punching bag. He had never seen her so angry before, so violent; actually, he had never seen her violent at all. Physical attack simply wasn’t the girl’s style. Except when it came to his insults, it seemed, and some sick twisted part of Victor relished in this. He absorbed this knowledge with a sort of giddiness that sparkled in his cold blue eyes when she punched him ferociously, her little fists far from causing any real damage.

Still, the boy took a step back from her, and next thing he knew, he was shirtless. BLOODY CAVENDISH. Victor glared at the board, as if expecting to find the man’s face there; he turned back to Mondai with a little more concern than he had meant to show. If she realized he had been lying… well, that would put him in a very uncomfortable position. Because naturally, he would only want to lie further, but Cavendish would continue ratting him out by magically taking his clothes.

Fortunately, it seemed that Mondai’s moment of anger was too much for her to fully acknowledge this clue, though her cheeks had turned a lovely shade of red. Victor’s smirk widened slightly at this. “But we are friends, Mondai… that’s why I feel…” he spoke slowly, taking another step toward her once her fists had lowered, “that it is my responsibility to tell you…” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, “When you’re kissing gits.” He leaned in dangerously close, his lips gently brushing her own sweet, pink ones…

… And then he pulled away abruptly, as if some invisible force had caused him a severe burn. “And you reek of that bloody git.” Angry, and already forgetting the fact that he was losing clothes at an alarming rate, Victor turned away from Airlia to refill his glass with more firewhiskey.