Chapter Text
Breakfast the next morning is an awkward affair.
Oscar sits, stone-faced and wary, and cautiously eats what he sees the others eating. The others, all five of them, sit arrayed about the same table. Conversation is weak, trickling in and drying out in little spurts all around him.
The part of him that's becoming more and more like Ozpin prompts him to go for the hot chocolate--Oscar makes himself a cup of tea instead. It isn't the same tea as Salem's by any measure, with an aroma entirely unfamiliar to him; he can't quite decide if that's a good thing or not.
Apparently satisfied that his latest charge has had a hot meal, a long shower, and enough sleep that he's accidentally given himself a headache, Branwen makes to haul Oscar off to the living room for some "adult talk."
Everyone else promptly tags along, curious.
Oscar watches Branwen roll his eyes and indulge them with a begrudging fondness, and he silently wonders what these children do, that the Huntsman tolerates this from them.
'let me speak with them?'
Oscar doesn't grace that with an answer. "How many people know that you're staying here?" He opens with.
Branwen gives him a brief, scrutinizing look before he answers. "Not many. Why?"
"Because Tyrian's somewhere in this area." Oscar scowls before he catches himself and wipes the expression off.
"Who?"
Oh right, the others haven't been filled in.
"He's Salem's preferred assassin," he tells the gathered teens. "A scorpion faunus, good hunter and completely insane. I've... worked with him a few times." And what wonderful, enjoyable missions those were. Oscar turns away from the memories and uneasy teenagers alike to focus on Branwen. "If you haven't already, you should warn what Huntsmen you can still find to watch themselves. They're all targets."
"I can look around a bit, drop some words in the right ears. But the kinds of people I know can all look out for themselves, kid; they are Huntsmen."
Oscar's shaking his head before the man even finishes speaking. "That won't be enough. You haven't fought Tyrian, you don't know what he's like. He's been here for months, Branwen. Most of your Mistralian contacts are probably already dead. Putting the ones left on high alert won't save them, most likely, but it's... it's better than doing nothing."
Branwen goes quiet and very grim. His niece pipes up into the silence.
"Can't we do more?" Ruby asks, a little tentatively. "I mean, if we know they're in danger, shouldn't we go out there and help?"
Oscar snorts. "You say that like we aren't targets ourselves."
...They look confused. Why do they look confused? Oscar turns an accusing stare on Branwen. "You didn't tell them?"
The Huntsman has the good grace to look guilty. "Didn't want to scare them without proof."
Oscar stares incredulously. Anger rises in him, sudden and bizarrely protective, and he squashes it as far down as he can. Ozpin murmurs something soothing that he doesn't listen to before brushing off.
"...Well then.” Oscar bites back his first, incredibly sarcastic response. Then his second, heated one. He forces his gaze down to his clasped hands and keeps his voice very, very even.
"Ruby Rose," the girl flinches a little, "when I last saw her, Cinder wanted you dead. I doubt that's changed in the weeks I've been gone. And when I last saw Tyrian, he rather cheerfully suggested that Cinder put out one of your eyes in exchange for the damage your stunt on Beacon tower did to hers."
Oscar finally lifts his chin and meets her startled gaze head-on. He taps one finger meaningfully on his left cheekbone, right under the lower eyelid. "I expect he'll make good on his own suggestion if he catches wind of your presence here, just so that he can tell Cinder about it later--he's always up for some spiteful mocking."
The whole group shifts uneasily. Branwen sighs and takes a sip from his flask. Oscar watches them all coldly for a long moment, and he doesn't like the way they're looking at him but they need to understand.
"And the rest of you." The other three teens twitch. "I assume you have Ruby's Scroll number? If you go out and get grabbed off the street, it won't be hard for Tyrian to just... call her. Have her come alone to some out-of-the-way place. And even if we all go running off to their rescue, he'll still have a hostage. Or, if too many people leave the safehouse at once, it wouldn't be impossible for him to break into this place and take out whoever's still here. All he'd have to do is watch the building. So." Oscar presses his lips into a firm line, gaze boring into Branwen's. "How sure are you that this place is secure?"
He registers, suddenly, the expression on the man's face. Surprise, a careful neutrality, the faintest hint of displeasure.
Oscar drops his gaze. "Sorry," he offers, and the words taste like ash.
Branwen lifts a slightly puzzled eyebrow, but lets Oscar's attitude pass without reprimand. "I told you, we're good. The only people who know we're even in Mistral are family members and old Leo."
“Leonardo Lio-?” Oscar starts to ask, only for Jaune to interrupt.
"Wait, what about the Mistral police?" Jaune says, slightly confrontational and clearly unhappy. "If we alert them, maybe they can help-"
"Alert them to what, exactly?" Oscar scoffs. "A Huntsman and a group of students want the police to mobilize on the say-so of a dead man and a kid? I don't have a picture of Tyrian to help anyone hunt him down, and his tail is simple enough to hide. Mistral's bound to be short-staffed if Tyrian's been doing his job, so they can't spare manpower on a wild goose-chase. We don't even have a definite date for the attack on Haven. All that telling the Mistral forces will accomplish is make it clear that I'm somewhere in the area, since you all would have no way of knowing this stuff otherwise."
“You don’t know that. What if we-“
“Look,” Oscar crosses his arms, and his head tipped down to hide his frown. "The Queen has no idea where Ozpin and I are right now. That's an advantage I'd rather not give up without something more significant than maybes in return."
Jaune makes to argue further, but a quelling look from Branwen quiets him. After a brief pause to make sure the guy isn’t going to keep talking, Oscar continues.
"Haven isn't to be attacked before they locate the Spring Maiden, so we need to do that first."
Branwen frowns. "Oh, right, forgot to tell you. I've already done that. Raven's got her; Spring's with the Branwen tribe. We went to see Leonardo about getting some reinforcements for her retrieval a few days ago, but he's being uncooperative."
Oscar goes cold. "You did what," he mouths. His voice seems to have deserted him. Ozpin makes a noncommittal hum somewhere in the back of their head.
Branwen notices. "What's wrong?"
"What's-?! Branwen, the only reason the White Fang have held off on destroying Haven is because Salem needs the Spring Maiden to open the vault. There is a mole in Haven, and you just- you walked right into there and handed over her location and- oh. Oh, it would make so much sense if the Headmaster was the mole, that-"
'-Oscar, i think you might be getting a little ahead-'
"-would explain how Cinder got those forgeries for the Vytal-"
'-of yourself there. we shouldn't jump to conclusions, and treating Leo-'
"-Festival and jump to conclusions? The fact that he's acting like-"
'-as a traitor just because he isn't behaving exactly as we might prefer-'
"-one isn't reason enough for you? Are you insane, you-"
"Hey, kid." Branwen reaches over to do- something, something that Oscar ducks away from before the man can complete the motion. Branwen frowns at the evasion, and Oscar forces himself to hold very, very still. The man lowers his arm slowly.
One of the teens whose name he doesn't know pipes up. "What's this about a mole in Haven?"
Oh right. They barely know anything. Ugh.
Branwen is perfectly capable of explaining. Oscar sends a faintly beseeching look the man's way, to which Branwen replies with an entirely unhelpful raised eyebrow and a get on with it gesture.
Oscar gets the rather distinct impression that the man is waiting for Oscar to decide he doesn't want to deal with this and hand over control to Ozpin, which is annoying on so many levels.
The rest of the group, watching the byplay, zero in their expectant stares right on Oscar.
Ozpin is a quiet, patient presence in the back of their mind. Oscar weighs how much he doesn't want to go over everything again against how much he doesn't want to lose his autonomy. Then he considers the pointed, unhappy looks Branwen is giving him.
...Nope.
Ozpin, you do it.
So they make a plan.
(Or rather, Ozpin makes a plan and everyone else just goes with it, ridiculously pliable in the former Headmaster’s hands. If Oscar had control of his eyes, he would be rolling them.)
Branwen is going to go around and try to hunt down whoever's left of the Mistralian Huntsmen, to warn them and possibly enlist their aid for a raid on the Branwen tribe--a raid that might not be happening, if Leonardo Lionheart has already leaked this information to Salem. Whether or not this is the case is something that Ozpin's decided to put a pin on; the man concedes that it might be a possibility, but refuses to act as though it's a given truth without more evidence.
The students are to spend some time training. Which is fair; Tyrian is a terrifying opponent. Then Ozpin says that Oscar could use some retraining too, which Oscar strongly objects to.
What?!
'later, Oscar.'
Oscar's in the kitchen sipping at his second cup of water (did they have to talk that much?) when his objection is finally addressed.
(Branwen's left. The two teens whose name Oscar doesn't know have gone upstairs; Ruby's out in the backyard; Jaune's sitting out on the porch with her.)
What did you mean, “Oscar could use some retraining?" I can fight fine.
'i wanted you to get some training done because your hand-to-hand combat skills could use some more work,' Ozpin informs him, neutral. Even if he didn't have a link right into man's mind, Oscar would be able to tell that that's a bullshit answer.
Oscar waits a beat. Then he mentally pokes Ozpin. Again. And again.
The man's only response to the prodding is a firm, 'if you have a question, you can articulate it like an adult and not a child, Oscar.'
Oscar scowls into his cup. "Can you explain." A long pause. "...Please."
A sigh. 'you aren't practiced in my particular style of fighting, nor with using a cane as a weapon. you should at least learn how to wield it properly. you're also unnecessarily reckless, have no understanding of sparring etiquette, and have developed a lot of bad habits that need correcting.'
"Like hell. Give me an opponent and I'll kick their butt," Oscar challenges, miffed. Ozpin chuckles.
'well, at least you're motivated.'
He does not kick Lie Ren's butt.
"You handicapped me," Oscar sulks.
'sabotaging your opponents before a spar should not be your first recourse,' Ozpin lectures. 'it's unreliable and underhanded, and discourages the development of your actual combat skills.'
"It's how I operate and it works."
He and Tyrian did it all the time. To... other people, yeah, on the occasional mission, but mostly to each other. Oscar's had to get pretty creative in the past, but everyone here shares a food source and it's barely guarded. Really, these guys are just asking for it.
Ozpin breaks out the Stern Voice. 'you are not poisoning Mister Lie, young man.'
Oscar rolls his eyes at the word choice. The sedative he carries doesn't count as poison. The stuff in Tyrian's tail, on the other hand? That was poison.
He tries a different line of reasoning. "But don't you think he should learn to watch out for-“
'no.'
"But this stuff doesn't even have any major negative side-effe-"
'no, Oscar.'
...Oscar sulks harder.
Day three, and the orange-haired girl has apparently made up her mind that Oscar is, in fact, an acceptable target to be friendly with.
Oscar is very much not okay with this. He thinks he and Ozpin are actually in agreement about that, which just goes to show how dire the matter is.
(Branwen's out. Ruby's working on dinner with Jaune in the kitchen, and Ren was in the living-)
"So how old are you?"
Oscar buries his face further into his book, hoping the girl will take the hint and go away. She is way too far into his personal space. She also doesn't bother to wait for any sort of response before she barrels on.
"I didn't really notice back at Beacon, but you're really small and kinda cute-"
The boy twitches. I'm gonna-
'do not attack her,' Ozpin commands repressively, before he can even finish the thought, and Oscar's annoyance promptly shifts targets. Or rather, it splits between the two of them--he has plenty of annoyance to go around, and the bubbly girl is still. talking.
"-not sure what they were thinking since you're so, you know, little, Oscar."
Oscar flinches, a hollow echo of little Oscar whispering from somewhere both far away and much too close, and it's with more venom than he intends that he hisses, "Do not call me that."
The girl leans back -finally- and tilts her head inquisitively. "What, little? Or Oscar?"
"Nora," her partner calls from the study's entryway, while Oscar tries to force his hands to relax around the book cover. The girl waves at Ren cheerfully. Ozpin murmurs something trite and soothing.
"You look like you could use a hug," Nora -Oscar's going to accidentally-on-purpose forget her name after a few days of avoiding her, probably- informs him. He blinks at the non-sequitur. "Doesn't he, Ren?"
...? What? What is that supposed to mean?
Then Nora reaches over and grabs him.
Oscar responds violently -the hold is pathetically bad, Nora needs to work on her grappling skills, there are at least three ways to escape this from off the top of his head- and tries to get loose without hurting her.
'Oscar! calm down!'
Nora is a great deal stronger than she looks, though, so Oscar resorts to stomping at her instep and digging his elbows into her side. She yelps, arms tightening around him, and his ribs creak in protest. He slams his forehead into her jaw with enough force that she finally releases him.
Oscar leaps away from her and -green kid still blocking the doorway- darts for the window. Nora makes a thwarted noise, and it follows him as he jumps into the backyard and hurries inside, out of sight from the window. He hastily ducks into one of the empty rooms and slams the door shut behind him.
It takes a a few long minutes of silence before Oscar decides they're not looking for him.
"What the hell was that about?" The boy breathes at last, sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor, the surprise of it all belatedly catching up to him. His blood is still rushing through his ears, and his hands tremble faintly now that he's somewhat safe.
Ozpin sounds exceptionally tired when he explains, 'that was a hug, Oscar. she wasn't trying to hurt you.'
Oscar blinks. "But she was touching me," and he only realizes how stupid he sounds after the words have left his mouth. "...Oh."
Oh. Oh. Oh no.
Oscar messed up.
"Branwen?" Oscar keeps his eyes on the man's chest, not quite able to meet the Huntsman's gaze. "...Can I talk to you for a moment?"
(Jaune's in the kitchen with Ren; Ruby's setting the table; Nora's doing something in the pantry.)
Branwen pauses, then closes the front door behind him. He doesn't look to be in a great mood -the search for surviving Huntsmen isn't isn't going well, at a guess- but if Oscar tries to catch him later, there's a chance Nora will bring up the incident before Oscar can, and that will just get him into even more trouble.
"Sure. Something come up, kiddo?"
"Kind of. I-. Nora tried to hug me earlier. And I sort of... attacked her."
Branwen blinks, eyebrows furrowing. The man moves further into the room, and Oscar flinches back before he realizes that Branwen's aiming for the seats and not him. The Huntsman drops onto one of the couches with a tired groan and fishes out his flask.
"Define 'attacked'. Is she hurt?"
"No. I don't think so. I just hit her until she let go; she looked fine earlier."
"Uh huh. And, what, you want me to talk to her about it or something?"
...What?
Oscar is not entirely sure what the right answer is here. "...No? I mean, not unless you think there's any need?"
Branwen just stares at him for a long, expectant moment. Oscar keeps his face blank and fights not to squirm, unsure what the man's looking for and hoping he hasn't already made a misstep somehow.
After the silence starts edging into awkwardness, Branwen rolls his eyes. "Kid, why are you telling me this?"
Oscar's head doesn't move, but he avoids Branwen's eyes and his vision dips down to focus on the man's legs. His shoulders hunch up slightly. "Figured you should know," he replies, and his voice is very nearly a mumble.
The man sighs. "Look pipsqueak, I'm not your parent, and I'm not your teacher or your superio-" he pauses.
Blinks.
Starts over, slowly, a bit more tentative. "...You... Oscar, as long as Nora's not hurt and she doesn't have a problem with it, I don't care. You don't need to report this stuff to me, or... whatever it is you think you're doing. Okay? Just go... apologize to her or something."
He waves one hand in a fairly dismissive motion, the other coming up to rub at the back of his neck. The Huntsman shakes his head, once. Oscar peeks up at the man's expression through his eyelashes, and the look on Branwen's face is... confusing.
Pitying, perhaps. Sad. Uncomforatble. A little lost.
Oscar doesn't know what to make of it. So he just nods obediently, short and swift, and takes his leave.
Apologize to Nora. Okay. A bit weird, but Oscar can do that.
(His hands are shaking, he realizes ten steps later. Oscar isn't sure when that started. He hides his fingers in his pockets, and tries to calm down and not think about how badly that conversation could have gone.
Ozpin is quiet in the back of their mind, and something about the quality of that quietness makes Oscar wonder if, maybe, he did something wrong.
Ozpin is quick to assure him he didn't, but...)
They watch him, whenever he's in the room.
Some of them are polite about it. Ren, whose presence Oscar honestly sometimes forgets about, never stares openly. Ruby likes to engage him in small, pointless conversations that Oscar tries his hardest not to make awkward.
Branwen will sometimes come check on him, silent, face neutral. The man manages to both leave the house frequently and still show up in order to loom threateningly whenever Oscar is alone with Ruby for any length of time--Oscar can take a hint.
Jaune, though, can't seem to quit glaring. Nora seems to find him adorable and offensive by turns, which is equally alarming for an entirely different reason.
None of them are like this when it's Ozpin in control. Their scrutiny is reserved for Oscar alone, which is a bit of a novel experience; he doesn't think he's ever had so many people this interested in whatever he got up to, before.
By the fifth day, Oscar's thoroughly sick of it.
After nearly a week of stewing and ugly looks, Jaune finally approaches Oscar.
"Oscar, I- um. ...Are you ...okay?"
"Peachy. Why?"
"Well, you're kind of sitting half-under your bed. With all the lights off."
Oscar had, in fact, been taking a nap down there. He elects not to mention this. "Oh. That. It's just more-" familiar "-comfortable this way, I guess. Look, did you want something?"
Jaune shifts his weight from foot to foot, still standing in the doorway. "Uh. Yeah. Can we... talk?"
No, is Oscar's first response. He grimaces and drags himself out into the hallway anyways. "Is this the part where you finally tell me what your issue with me is?"
Jaune's face goes dark. "It's not an issue with you, it's with- with Cinder and Salem, really," he says--lies through his teeth, more like. Oscar rolls his eyes.
"Sure, whatever. What do you want."
"I just- look, I...” He struggles with his words for a long moment, fidgeting. One hand comes up to rub at the back of his head.
Oscar peers up at him, eyes guarded. “You don’t trust me. Is that it?”
“That is really not the issue here,” Jaune says, with a huff of laughter that might as well be a sigh. “I- I lost someone, when Beacon fell. Pyrrha Nikos, my partner. Cinder killed her. And I'm-"
"Wait, that's what this is about?" Oscar blinks. He doesn't know all the details, but Cinder didn't exactly keep quiet about the idiotic way Pyrrha Nikkos had died--charging up after Cinder right after the woman had killed Ozpin.
There's no way the girl expected to walk out of that fight victorious. Or even alive.
He brushes aside Ozpin's reproving 'Oscar' to soldier on. "You're seriously holding a grudge against me because your teammate bit off more than she could chew?"
Jaune snaps. "I- you- what is wrong with you?!"
"I'm the one at fault here?" Oscar's face draws tight, mouth hard and eyes dark. "Don't pin your blame on me just because you couldn't save her from herself."
"You don't know anything about her!" Jaune yells, and he couldn't give Oscar an easier look at his damage if he'd tried.
"Don't I," the boy says before he can stop himself.
"Of course not," Jaune growls, but Oscar's only half paying attention.
If he were aiming to hurt Jaune, he'd keep talking. I know she was strong. I know she was kind. I know she could have had a bright future, and I know she didn't need to die that night.
...Tyrian is going to eat this boy alive.
Oscar grimaces.
Jaune is still yelling about open sentiment or whatever, and he's so... exposed? Vulnerable? Oscar doesn't know the word, but he recognizes the way Jaune's leaving himself open -Oscar used to have a similar problem when he was younger- but he isn't sure how to articulate it.
(Why is Jaune unloading this stuff on Oscar? Doesn't he have a team for problems like this?)
"Look," Oscar interrupts, "if you're going to treat me like an enemy, treat me like an enemy. Don't just- hand me this stuff. You're being too honest, and you're just setting yourself up to get hurt."
"What are you talking about?!"
Oscar frowns slightly. He doesn't know how to say this, how to explain to Jaune that he's wearing his heart somewhere it's easy to stab. This would be so much easier if he could just show the big idiot, but hurting the older boy deliberately is not something Oscar's willing to get in trouble for.
(He can also admit, privately, that he doesn't really want to do it.)
He isn't sure how to help, and Jaune is just lashing out right now--in no frame of mind to listen to anything Oscar has to say. There's no point to talking like this. Either Jaune will throw the first punch and vent some of his frustrations, or Oscar will escape until Jaune blows up on someone else. Probably an actual enemy, and Oscar needs to decide if he's willing to stand by and just let Jaune walk into that and... possibly get himself killed. Probably get himself killed.
If this was a scene in one of his storybooks, or maybe if Oscar was a different sort of person, then there would be something Oscar could say that would help. Something he could do that would let Jaune heal, instead of just letting out some of the ever-building poison in the wound.
But it's not, and he's not. So his options aren't exactly plentiful.
...Ugh. Fine.
"You're a mess," Oscar finally tells the older boy, blunt and provocative. "And a lovesick idiot."
Jaune grits his teeth and clenches his fists, violence pulling inward, and for a second looks like he’s about to cry. Which, no no, was not what Oscar was aiming for. The guy just needs an outlet; it doesn't actually matter what Oscar says, because nothing will be what he needs to hear.
"What. What did you say."
"You heard me."
Jaune turns away with a quiet snarl, shoulders taut and still not lashing out, and does Oscar really need to throw the first hit here? Really?
"Look, just- punch me already." Oscar huffs, short and heavy. He literally cannot make it any easier for this guy to beat him up. "That's what you're here for, right?"
"That!" Jaune whips around, points a finger directly at Oscar's nose. "That is exactly what I'm talking about! What is wrong with you?"
"Hey." Branwen calls, stepping into the hall. Oscar's mouth snaps shut on a retort, and he smooths any sullen lines from his expression. Resignation washes over him like a wave.
Shit.
If the man notices Oscar's reaction, he doesn't show it. "You two about done?" He drawls. One hand reaches into his coat for his flask as he leans against the wall, deceptively casual.
Jaune gives the Huntsman a sharp, mutinous look. "No, we're not, so butt out," he snaps. Oscar glances at Branwen warily, wondering if the man's going to let that slide.
Branwen takes a swig. "Sure," he agrees, easy. "Just wanted to let you boys know something. The backyard's free--you should move this sort of talk somewhere a little more private." Then he tilts his head, and looks right at Oscar. "Also, you are allowed to hit back, you know."
His piece said, Branwen turns and ambles off without a goodbye.
Did. Did he really just-?
Oscar blinks twice, hard, and then turns back to Jaune. The older boy meets his gaze with a glare and a scowl, but shuffles off to the back door without a word. Oscar trails after him, furiously reconsidering... a lot of things.
Ozpin sighs.
When they make it outside, Jaune heads for the far wall and spins around. Oscar waits until he squares off before he throws a quick, telegraphed jab at the boy's face. Jaune slaps it away with a surprised yelp.
"That one was free," Oscar informs him, before he punches the older boy in the stomach.
"This doesn't change anything," Jaune tells the sky.
Oscar huffs out a short breath. He'd pulled his punches -a novel experience, but Ozpin was being insistent about it- and a few of Jaune's hits had connected too. The Aura he'd been pulsing into his shoulder fades as he pulls himself up into a sitting position.
Jaune stays exactly where he is, flat on his back in the middle of the courtyard. "I mean it," he asserts.
Oscar hauls himself to his feet. He turns to lean over Jaune's head, meet the boy's upside-down gaze squarely, and roll his eyes as big and exaggerated as he can.
Then he reaches down to drag Jaune upright by the straps of his armor. The older boy stops being dead-weight halfway through the process and gets up on his own power, and together the two of them walk back inside.
In a nearby tree, a crow caws, twice. It sounds a lot like laughter.
The sun goes up, and comes back down, and goes back up.
Oscar tries to keep track of them all, Branwen and Ruby and Jaune and Ren and Nora. He checks in on everyone regularly--not to talk, just to quietly confirm their locations.
(He thinks Branwen is the only one who understands what Oscar's doing. Which makes sense, as the man seems to be keeping an eye on Oscar right back.)
Training only takes up so much of the day, in this place. So, in his spare time, Oscar makes himself useful. Not in any way that benefits one person over another -these people can do their own laundry, for example- but in the little things.
He pries vines from where they start breaking through the roof. He cleans the house from top to bottom--the sight of him sweeping and dusting initially prompted every single person who encountered him to do a double-take. He collects every book in the library and organizes them by subject and title. He can't cook -never learned how- but he peels and washes things when no one else is in the kitchen and leaves them there for the others.
No one ever asks him to do these things. No one ever asks him to do anything, really. It's left him rather at loose ends.
The day Branwen informs them that Lionheart was asking after their address is not a great one.
“-am telling you, he’s a traitor-“
‘-a serious accusation and i won’t simply-‘
“-but nooo, just because you guys were friends-“
‘-it without more concrete evidence than-‘
“-time ago he can do no wrong and you won’t even-“
‘-speculation and until then he deserves the benefit of-‘
“-me try LOOKING for your stupid proof-“
‘-and we are not breaking into his home, Oscar!’
“Uh...” Ruby and Nora peek their heads into the bedroom and exchange looks. “Are- are you okay?”
Oscar doesn’t so much as glance at them. “We’re having a disagreement.” He reaches the far wall, spins on his heel, and stomps right back across the room.
“Well, maybe we can help?” Nora offers.
Oscar considers it for half a second, paused mid-step, before he dismisses them and keeps pacing.
“No, you’ll just side with him.” Ignoring their mildly affronted faces, he continues flatly, “Did you two need something.”
"We just wanted to tell you that dinner's ready."
Dinner? Why- Oh right, they do that thing where everyone gathers together to eat. Oscar steels himself for another meal of being talked around and stared at.
This isn't over.
Ozpin takes the high road and doesn't respond.
The sound of a great deal of breaking china brings Oscar running, jumping down from the roof and coming in through the back. He hurriedly locates everyone gathered by the front entrance, and from the looks of it his urgency was wasted.
There's no emergency--just Ruby, hugging two newcomers.
"What's going on?"
“YOU!” the blonde girl yells. Wait, Oscar recognizes her; it’s the girl who went up against Mercury during the finals of Vytal Festival Tournament.
Then she punches him into a wall, and pins him there by his throat. Branwen steps in and stops the two (three? The Schnee Heiress has turned up to point a rapier at him too; where’d she come from?) of them from going any further.
Oscar rubs at his throat. His back aches dully from the impact with the wall. That’s getting really old.
He gets the sense that Ozpin agrees, even if the man is too dignified to admit it.