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That Butler
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Bad Jew

Vicente didn't wave when Hermione spotted him and Tyler. He hadn't even noticed it, honestly. His thoughts were too caught up in the past, and when the half-Veela spoke to him again, he frowned again as he was once again pulled back to the present. Had he really been rude? Was it rude to want to spend some time alone? If anything, she had been the one who was acting rude. She hadn't asked if she could join him up there when he was clearly taking some time for just himself.

He was glaring at Tyler as she went back down to the ground, and after a few moments of deliberation in which he tried to calm his rising temper, he found himself practically flying off the roof after her. Honestly, though, it was more like he jumped off the roof, landing in a crouch before angrily striding out to the edge of the water after the half-Veela.

"I do not care if you cower under by gaze or not," he hissed at her, obvious pain in his voice. This was turning into a rough evening for him, and her attitude wasn't making this any easier for him. "I do not care how similar or different you are from the others. All I care about is killing the Dark Lord and his followers."

This was probably the most he'd spoken to her. Ever. And he wasn't making the best of impressions. He didn't care, though. Usually he tried to be more civil just to avoid being treated poorly for being what he was--not that it was his fault--but he was making no such efforts right now. When he was dwelling too much on the past, he had more than a little difficulty playing nice in the present. He was too angry and too hurt to treat people kindly.
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