You're Going to be a Pain (Request to Join; Duke & Duchess - E)

Marc's eyes narrowed slowly at the remark, but the smirk returned when Bentley took the lead. Shaking his head, he made his way inside, sitting at the bottom seat closest to the doorway. Of course, this was going to be very... interesting. He hadn't, as of yet, managed to keep a partner, but... hell, anything could happen.

Settling into his seat, Bentley pulled his phone from his jacket, peering at the time. Eight minutes, he noted. Plenty of time to squeeze in a song or two. Sliding his headphones back over his ears, he scanned the room tentatively, noting the candidates around him. If the boomerang kid fails, he probably won't come back. The shuriken girl from Nebraska is capable, though her attitude can be pointed at times. The katana twins will definitely make the cut, but God knows they'll serve me up like sushi if we're paired.

Marc already knew the entire room, front and back, raw facts and their emotional standpoints. The crossbow in the opposite corner had recently lost her partner... to the jock the next room over. It had come as a shock to her when she found out that she had been a cover-up. Marc was unphased. Still, outside of the newbies, she was the best option, as far as weapons went. Meisters, however, were few and far between as far as talent went. A select few of the new guys had some potential, but as Bentley had pointed out, Marc wasn't a beginner's weapon.

Bentley had nearly lulled himself into a nap when a series of thumps snapped him out of his trance, the room slowly fading back into focus. In the doorway, a tall, gangly woman was hurriedly picking several thick books from the floor. Cursing quietly, she strode across the hall floor, dropping them onto the desk without the faintest acknowledgement of the students around her. She hastily pinned a wave of red hair up and out of her face, peering through thick glasses as she silently shuffled through the musty books. Pulling one from the pile, she thumbed through the pages, marking a section with her finger as she rounded on the class.

Marc's eyes, though lazily, followed her nonetheless, his expression a strange swirl of interest and boredom. Under his desk, his leg seemed to vibrate, foot just barely missing the floor as it tapped repeatedly. This was something he was accustomed to, eccentric teachers that were either all too normal or all too crazy, no grey area, no in between. That was simply the way that it was, the way that the DWMA worked. Saying nothing, his hand went to his pocket, and he held the volume down until it gave a faint vibration.

"Good morning, class," she spoke sharply, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "I'll be your proctor for this session of resonance testing. My formal name is Sabrina and that is that. Don't worry about what to call me. Your focus belongs one place and one place only and that is with the other students in this room. I'll be your guiding hand, but they decide whether you find a successful pairing or spend the next semester in N.O.T. courses. Focus your senses, free your mind, relax your body within reason. Resonance pairings can be nerve-racking, I know, but I will gut you like a Thanksgiving turkey if your lunch ends up on my lecture hall floor." The smile that followed seemed almost fake as she opened the book once more, scanning the pages for Death only knows what.

Marc snorted at this, leaning back a bit, both formal and casual at the same time. His eyes studied her, watching her body language but unphased by the words that she spoke. Of course, he had heard this speech, and numerous variations of it, time and time again --- he had switched between N.O.T. and E.A.T. courses every semester until this passed year, where they finally decided to give him portions of both. His capabilities and skill were on par with the martial, practical weaponry, but his attitude set him back so far as to put him into the more... "containment" level positions.

"Ma'am," he said finally, watching, studying, leaning forward in his seat, elbows propped on the desk, one arm horizontally on par with it and the opposite hand gesturing as he spoke. "Do you elect to throw us to one another or do you have an... assigned arrangement for us all?"

"We've actually made some advancements in the testing process," Sabrina said, rummaging through a small suitcase as she spoke. After a few moments, she pulled out a clear, crystalline ball. "As of this year, we can test for resonance by having both candidates transmit their wavelengths into these crystals. Should the candidates have any significant degree of compatibility, the crystal will react. Glowing. Heat. That sort of business. It doesn't mean you're a perfect match, but it's a simpler way to figure out who is incompatible with you."

Marc's attention was pulled for the simple concept alone, his body moving forward, both forearms laying flat on the desk as he watched, shocking eyes clearly mystified by it all. "Crystals?" He had no doubt of the possible source of the idea, knowing that the woman in question would not have been able to resonate with her partner were it not for the bond. Too much instability, he knew... but for the concept to be brought to light, for such a thing to now exist? Curious, he did another run through of the class, wondering at who would match with who on a wider scale, beyond merely his own, potential choices.

"Crystals, yes," Sabrina murmured, slowly rolling a ball from hand to hand. "After the incidents surrounding my own pairing, I realised that changes needed to be made and I spent several years researching a way to go about simplifying the process. As you should know, even partners with potential won't resonate effectively unless they are both in a righted mental state. The issue lies in unpaired students who attempt to force a connection, thinking that the issue is just a lack of focus. Just because flint makes a fire doesn't mean you can just rub any two stones together and get the same effect." She lifted an arm, letting the crystal roll smoothly down and over her shoulders to the opposite hand. She snapped the receiving hand upward, the crystal coming to rest on the tips of her fingers. "It is a curious thing, resonance. The strongest pairs are often the most contrasting. Fire and ice. Light and shadow. What sets you apart will often be what brings you together."

This was textbook, as eccentric as it was, but he nonetheless listened with keen ears and an open, clear mindset. He looked behind him, curious. "Is there even an even number of weapons in the class...?"

Sabrina's eyes flickered to Marc, a slow smirk spreading across her lips. "No, there isn't," she mused. "There is a relatively low chance that a meister can resonate with multiple weapons...but the likely option is simply that someone here is not leaving with a partner." A twitch of her wrist sent the crystal spinning atop her finger. "And to whom do I owe the pleasure of this inquiry?"

"Macurius Iordanuo," he said simply, name rolling off of his tongue like silk on satin. "Marc, kusarigama." He straightened in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, the skepticism returning. "Clearly unpartnered or else we wouldn't be having this discussion."

The edge of Sabrina's lip twitched, an eyebrow raising. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose once more. "Indeed, we wouldn't. So for the time being, consider me mutually unimpressed. Everyone in this room is only as strong as their weakest link, which will prove to be either their partner or themselves," she concluded, her eyes fixated on Marc with a mixture of curiosity and calculation. A snap of her wrist sent the crystal airborne towards him. "Impress me."

Marc snorted at the simplicity of her action, catching the ball in his left hand without otherwise changing position. It lit for a mere moment, red lightning snapping around the orb, engulfing it momentarily. "Pick my poison then, ma'am?" His fingers toyed with the device, dancing it along the surface of his skin as he waited, otherwise remaining rooted.

Sabrina shook her head, laughing with an unnaturally high-pitched giggle. "That falls to you, all-star. I'm a moderator, not a match-maker. Let's see what you can do when left to your own devices." Her arms folded, fingers tapping against her sleeves with amusement and curiosity.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stood from his desk, looking around the room and trying to recall everything he had learned. Suddenly, called out and out of his element, he was forgetting everything that he had been mentally reciting like a mantra. Opposites, he scolded himself, looking around, but what the bloody hell is the opposite...? Cursing to himself, he took a step further back, surveying the room once more. What's the worst that could happen? A mistake? Shit, your sister was a mistake, man. That didn't seem as encouraging, phrased in such a way as that, as he perhaps would have otherwise thought.

Still, he called the timid... broken boomerang, thinking that perhaps the confidence would help. Holding out the crystal, he watched as the boy nervously placed his hand overtop of it, clearly hoping to not be partnered and to remain a NOT.

Bentley pulled his hood up to his mouth in ready anticipation for the worst, or most hilarious, outcome. The boomerang boy set his hand nervously atop the crystal. A moment passed and another after it. Nothing. The boy, however, was visibly withering. There's nothing to be had in losing your cool about it, Bentley thought to himself. It's not for lack of skill that you don't pair...it's all the same as having two pieces of different puzzles and telling them to fit together.

The lack of reaction merely made Marc sigh, shrugging as he tossed the ball in the air, catching it and pitching it towards Bentley. "You pick someone, crackpot." He said, clearly disappointed and relieved all at once.

Bentley quickly moved to grab the crystal, scooping it carefully into his chest. Curious, he turned the orb over and again in his hands, watching as light passed through before scattering into a faint spectrum on the desk. He studied his own reflection for what seemed an eternity before a sharp cough made him aware of the fact that all eyes were trained on him. This sort of attention really isn't my thing, he thought, eyes dropping to the floor bashfully. "Marc," he muttered hoarsely. "You. I pick you."

Marc blinked, righting himself where he stood, stunned into silence. It hadn't even occurred to him that his new friend was a meister, and he nearly objected on those grounds alone. Clearly his throat as he shrugged off the awkwardness, he stepped back towards the student populace, approaching and reaching a hand out. "Whatever you say, crackpot. I should have handed you a disclaimer though, as it tends to be a... what would you call it? A 'shocking' experience. Of course, the only thing ignored more than terms and conditions are cancer labels on cigarette cartons."

Bentley withdrew the orb suddenly, tucking it under one arm. "I'll tek my chanshes," he murmured as he pulled the bandages on his free hand loose with his teeth. His eyes warily moved from his hand to Marc as the bandages hung loose, revealing a series of faint burn scars over his palms and the back of his hand. "Don't worry about me getting shocked, allstar," Bentley mused, a faint smile reappearing as he transferred the orb to his exposed hand. "I'm already a live wire." He held the crystal up to Marc, eyes fixated on its gleaming surface.

Part of Marc was proud of the new nickname, and certainly more comfortable with Bentley saying it rather than their instructor, though some part of him did, nonetheless, wince at it. Still, he reached out to touch the orb, and when it began to heat and hum, he worried that, perhaps, he'd transferred too much energy to it and it was about to electrocute the hotshot. But no, the bolt faded as quickly as they came, though the heat remained... a bit too drastically. The weapon's eyebrows knitted as he watched, more curious than worried, now, wondering at what the orb was going to do, as it seemed that the temperature was still ever-increasing...

Bentley winced as the orb continued to heat up, the surface shimmering beneath their hands. The crystal was radiating in waves, suffocating them both with humid ozone. Nonetheless, he held tight to the sphere, his breathing heavy and strained as he continued transferring energy into it. Don't you dare let go, Bentley. Don't crap out here. Surely, the crystal had reached white heat. It was going to burn Marc or it would burn him further or it- crink! The heat dissipated instantaneously. Bentley looked to Marc and back to the crystal, which was now covered into spiderweb fractures along the surface. A split second of silence... plink ...before a fragment of the orb dislodged, bouncing off the table and coming to a rest on the floor.

Heat flooded into Marc's face, and he as grateful that it could easily be dismissed as a side effect of the orb's ever increasing temperature. It seemed unreasonable, to say nothing of the sheer impossibility, that it was reacting so strongly. heat, right? he thought, wondering, perplexed, unsure, is this... compatibility...?