The moment he'd spoken, he knew that he'd been too sharp, but when he did get into a zone he didn't like to be pulled out of it. Mai had learned that lesson many times over, though the lesson never did quite manage to stick. Maybe he assumed that Lizzie would, just like Mai, only laugh at him, smack him in the head, and drag him off to do whatever it was she wanted. With Mai, of course, that consisted of sneaking about the castle and finding ways to almost, but not quite, get into trouble.

Somehow he rather expected for Lizzie to just brush off his brusque reply in the same manner. When she didn't, he felt slightly irritated. Had Mai just let him get back to work, he'd not have much cared. Actually, he'd have been relieved. It stood to reason that he should be just as relieved that Lizzie didn't seem upset that he wanted to finish his essay. He did try to keep working on it, but he continued to glance over at her with far more consistency than he had even when they'd first taken a seat in Study Hall. 

Had he just been rejected? Or, no, wait. Had he rejected her? But then, hadn't she rejected him first? Is that why he'd snipped with a 'working' at her indication that she was quite ready to snog? 

And, was he a bloody girl? 

He gave himself a mental shake, sure that this wasn't needing nearly as much thought as he was putting into it. Besides, she seemed just fine and already at work on her next assignment. If she were miffed, she'd have left. Girls did that, right? Hazel, he knew, would be able to give him the right answer. Looking back at his work again, he realized that he'd left his quill just touching the parchement and a large ink spot had grown steadily across his work surface.

"Ah! Bloody hell," he muttered, dropping his quill on the table and hunting about for his wand.