“You can draw?” Peggy’s face scrunched. 

From all the things she’d heard about the Tank, from him punching a hole in the changing room wall to breaking a boy’s jaw for looking at him funny, she doubted his massive hands could do something as delicate as drawing.

“Yes.” He set his jaw, the fading English sun making his acne scars glow. 

“Oh you're talking now are you?” Hissed Vivienne. She didn’t look angry though, more giddy at the prospect of getting to wind him up. “I thought you were never talking to me again.”  

“I couldn’t watch you torture Peggy any longer, she looked like she would sell a kidney to please you.”

“I-I didn’t-” Looking between them, it was like the air had become water and Peggy couldn’t keep her body afloat. 

“Please, you just want to be the hero.” Continued Vivienne as if Peggy hadn’t spoken. 

“You want to rely on Peggy’s drawing skills then, or even worse yours. Last year you gave a drawing of Michelangelo's David boobs. And a sunhat.”

Vivienne shrugged, “It’s hot in Italy.” 

“If I can draw and Peggy can sew, what are you going to do Viv?” He’s back to looking out the window and Peggy wished she could see what fascinated him so much out there. 

Most sane people wouldn’t turn their back on Vivienne Stock. Flexing her fingers, Vivienne glared at him like she was trying to melt him into a grey puddle. 

“We need fabric and shit to do this and the school will only give us so much and I know where to get some for cheap.” Stuffing the papers into her bag she smirks. “Besides, someone has to write the essay.”

Grimacing, Peggy fiddled with her bracelet. 

“I can help you with the essay,” She didn’t want to say it, but Peggy and Vivienne had English together last year and Vivienne had missed more classes than she’d attended. 

“Thanks, but I’ve seen your writing and I actually want to do well on this.” Swinging off the table with a thud, Vivienne smiles. The devil left a bit of himself in her when he gave her that smile. “We’ll meet here again tomorrow and get started on the designs.”

“I have rugby.” Attis states. 

“And I don’t have time for that.” 

“Why don’t we meet during a free period?” Peggy stammers, the combined weight of both their stares is like being stepped on by a giant. However, she’d rather face that than listen to them bicker. 

“Fine.”

“Whatever.” 

“Don’t be late. I’m not losing this.”