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Who: Salazar Slytherin & Helga Hufflepuff.
What: Salazar continues to be a prat. Really.
Where: The Lake.
When: Two days after speaking with Helga, late afternoon.

Salazar was not diplomatic, and it was evident by the fact that he was nursing a bloody nose (along with a smug grin) as he sat by the lake that afternoon.

What had started as a supposedly civil meeting of the minds -- that is, his mind and Godric's mind and their charmingly simple stone mason Theuderic's mind -- ended up turning into an all-out brawl. Slytherin was naturally not to be blamed for the instigation of said conflict, no matter what Godric chose to yell at him as the burly wizard ejected his friend from the disarrayed scarlet tent crowning the hillock. And if Salazar had thrown the first spell, it was a perfectly justifiable response to an insult from Theuderic. Outwardly, of course, it seemed like an unprovoked attack on a perfectly humble and brilliant artisan, but Godric was hardly a reliable witness in the situation, as he had been engrossed in locating a scroll in the vast library he'd forced into his tent and had not witnessed the insulting remark.

After exchanging a few spells and thus resolving that Slytherin was superior at dueling, the brawl excalated to physical blows. It was also resolved that Salazar was superior at that, well before Godric returned to force them apart and throw him out of the tent.

Quite content that he had irreparably damaged something of the stone mason's, be it pride or nose, Slytherin retreated from the immediate area of Gryffindor's wrath over the situation and settled himself inconspicuously under a tree near the lake to access his battle damage. He was in possession of a bloodied but certainly not broken nose, in addition to cuts, scraps, and what would be bruises. While he did not like the look of the potion burn one of Godric's overturned cauldrons had given his forearm, it did not seem serious and was washed in the lake. The most damage that had been done in the fray was to his wand: it was cleanly snapped in twain and the top half was missing, supposedly somewhere in the mess he'd made of his best friend's tent.

Even after inspecting the damage to his wand, damage which he might be unable to repair, Salazar's only real worry was how upset Helga would be when she heard. He only hoped he would be given a chance to explain himself before she hexed him into oblivion.
She did not do such a good job of hiding a smile, "I'm glad that I found you. If only to spare you from Rowena's more unpleasant practices of healing." Highly effective though they were, they left something to be lacking as far as her bed-side manner was concerned.

Helga cleansed her hands before corking the numbweed potion and taking out another and a clean clothe. She damped the clothe in a mixture that smelled of witchhazel before applying it to his face. It had a refreshing effect. "You are going to need a bath." She said and then listened to what he said.

She stopped what she was doing and simply stared at him. "He said what exactly?" A bit of anger sourged through her bloodstream. Helga had believed that this matter had been settled with Theuderic. In a flat out conversation she told him that she wasn't interested in anything that he had in mind. She did appreciate his wisdom in stonecraft but that was as far as her admiration went. "Did he think I was being coy when I said that I was not interested?" She huffed, clearly angry but she did finish cleaning up the few cuts and bruises on his face and neck.

Her fingers relaxed in his and a soft sigh escaped her lips. She ducked her head a bit, feeling warmth in her cheeks. "Oh Salazar, there's really nothing to forgive, I suppose. You did what you thought was best." She did wish it wasn't so violent but what could she do. Salazar was Salazar and she was Helga. "I do not wish you change."