Edgar smirked a little harder and gave a soft snort. "What's not entertaining about you? Pretty. Talented. My parents chose well." It wasn't a lie--she was pretty and talented and they had chosen well. That didn't mean he was truly happy about the arrangement. Temporarily beside himself with joy that maybe he was getting a rise out of Rosalie, who would surely be distracted at this rate.
"They did, yes," she deadpanned back at him, frustrated at her loss of concentration now that he kept talking. Fine. But she was still not leaving the library until she was done. "I'm glad that you seem to agree," she said, with a faint hint of sarcasm to her tone.
"So you agree then, we're a great match?" Edgar reached forward to put his hand on Rosalie's arm. He noticed the attitude in her voice, but it only encouraged him all the more not to give up. Suddenly, he was a lot less bored.
What on earth was he trying to do? Fine. If he wanted to do this. Fine. She put down her quill, and met his gaze. "Of course we are," she returned. "Why wouldn't we be, Edgar?" Ignoring that they had both been forced into this.
Rosalie met his gaze. He was kind of infuriating, and not in a good way. "Name something about you?" she asked him. "Okay. You play the violin although you do not like it. You feel a lot of pressure from your parents, being the only child and the heir to their company. You're confident, you're stubborn, you don't think things are your fault even after you get punched in the face," she paused, and raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to name something about me?"
That wasn't addressing what they may or may not have in common, but he had followed that question by asking her to name things about him. So she went with the last question given to her.
Okay, so Rosalie wasn't so bad at remembering details. Edgar turned red and averted eye contact. She was so mean to him, and she never took his side. This was awfully unfair! A bit angrily, he replied, "You play violin and piano, and you think being a perfect little party host is important." When they'd talked about that, he'd expressed how frustrated he felt at having to constantly save face.
Of course, if he inherited his family's company, he could make his own decisions about how to be a host, and he could let Rosalie off the hook if she wanted.
"That wasn't my fault," he whined under his breath. The table looked very interesting for the moment.
Rosalie's mouth curled into a smug expression as Edgar went red, dropping his gaze. It was probably not a good sign to be so satisfied at such a reaction out of her betrothed, but quite frankly, she did not care at that moment. "I despair that you don't see the use of it, but let's not go down that argument again," she stated.
"How was that not your fault? You called her a slur, twice, and spat in her face? I am failing to see where else the blame could lie, Edgar."
"She didn't have to punch me," Edgar whined a little more loudly. He looked back up at Rosalie, red now with anger more than embarrassment, although he was still a bit touched by his own defeat. "I didn't hit her. I didn't curse her. I'd never even interacted with her before. You think her actions are excusable? What are you, a"--he lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes--" a blood traitor?"
At Edgar's words, Rosalie narrowed her eyes. "Of course not," she snapped at him. What thoughts she might actually have in terms of blood purity were not important here. There was the image to uphold. "I didn't say they were excusable, if you would kindly not put words into my mouth. But you did provoke her, at least after the first punch. What were you expecting to happen?"
Edgar leaned in and kept his voice dangerously low: "After the first punch. There shouldn't have been a first punch. Who's fucking side are you on, Rosalie? If it's mine, you have a shit way of showing it. If it's yours, don't forget that we're inextricably tied together now, and your loyalty is paramount."
Inextricably and paramount. Those were big words. While the smirk might have looked to Rosalie like he was threatening her (who even knew? he sure didn't), the boy was actually just proud of himself for using those words.
As he leaned in, Rosalie's eyes narrowed further. She didn't like where this was going. He was getting upset, and she didn't quite want to be on the other side of that. Intrinsically tied together. She hadn't forgotten that. She wouldn't forget that. Edgar's actions would reflect poorly on her. "I haven't forgotten," she said, meeting his gaze. He wasn't going to scare her. "Which goes both ways, Edgar. If you're getting into fights and being punched with muggleborns how does that look? Avoid the fights, you don't come off weak in the eyes of other people. Both of our reputations stay intact."
"Is your tongue tied to your ears? Would explain why you're not hearing anything I'm saying," Edgar said with a huff, shoving his chair back and getting to his feet. He wanted to leave, but he also knew he couldn't storm out. A compromise was standing up and looking away.
Honestly, he was growing tired of the whole world being against him. He just wanted something to go his way.
"I'm hearing exactly what you're saying," she said, hiding an eyeroll as the boy got to his feet, facing away from her. "But hearing, and agreeing with are different points, aren't they?" she sighed, watching him. "I just think you need to be careful. Is that so wrong of me?"
"Whatever you say, Rosalie," Edgar breathed out. He was a bit past the point of frustration; now he wanted to remove himself from the discomfort completely, but the only way he could do that without totally annoying Rosalie or making people think they were actually fighting was by letting his mind wander off to some distant places.
He sat back in his chair, back to his companion, and totally distracted himself with potentials and possibilities, with or without Rosalie. (Plenty of the latter, rest assured.)