((Dustin Royal continued from Looking for 'Company'))
Dustin Royal strolled into the poky room in the Language Arts Wing, taking up his prime position in the middle of the row on the far side of the classroom, one positioned right next to a window that looked right out on the main field. Dustin hadn't known when he applied for English with Mr. Howard, but his class had been scheduled at the exact time as an 11th grade Physical Education class - and that Physical Education class was surprisingly well-populated with attractive young ladies. That wasn't to say that Dustin ogled at them - he had far too much class for something so crude - but it certainly didn't hurt to take advantage of such a pleasant coincidence while Mr. Howard was on one of his self-absorbed rambles.
The class wasn't particularly full by the time Dustin had arrived, but then, he'd arrived just after the bell had tolled, so it didn't surprise him too much. The usual nebbish bookworms and loners had arrived before him, and no-one Dustin particularly liked or was scoping out had shown their faces yet, so Dustin casually turned to the book they had been studying in class - The Magus, a doorstop-and-a-half of a book about womanising, philosophy, psychoanalysis, and crazy Greeks. It was taking him forever to read the tome, but Dustin was finding himself inexplicably drawn to it nonetheless, and he opened up on the page he'd called it quits at last night. He found himself in the middle of a peculiar theatre piece performed in Conchis' ampitheatre at the back of his house, but he wasn't to stay long, as Mr. Howard entered in remarkably blustery fashion the moment that the novel's protagonist had seen the object of his affections, posing like a goddess, at the edge of the ampitheatre. Dustin politely closed the book, pulled out his workbook and pencil case, and leaned forward as if to invite Mr. Howard to educate him.
As Mr. Howard stepped up to the blackboard, Dustin glanced over at the Physical Education class on the field as they just began doing star jumps.
After all, it didn't hurt to look.
Eleutherea
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Pigeon Army†
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Eleutherea
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(Harold Fisher continued from Debate Exposes Doubt)
Having been seated in class before Dustin had arrived, Harold raised his head from The Magus to notice that the fellow was spending most of his time gazing out the window. Casting a quick glance outside as well, he realized that the only remotely interesting thing out there was a group of girls doing calisthenics. Including, he noted, forward bends and jumping jacks. It didn't take a genius of Harold's caliber to put two and two together.
Looks like somebody is getting led around by the thing between the legs today.
It was a testament to how boring Harold found this book they had to read that he had even looked up at all. Literature was dull, dull, dull, with no pictures, sounds, music, special effects, or anything of that sort to add onto the experience. Certainly, there were descriptions of places, but to a person lacking a decent imagination beyond what he could see right in front of him, all they did was give a bit of context. A dash of color to what would otherwise be an empty white void where people lived out their meaningless lives, fought cliched villains, and then maybe found love. Harold probably would get more entertainment value out of creating two sock puppets and having them repeat a story's dialogue in squeaky voices.
Not helping matters is that in this case, Harold couldn't even depend on the film adaptation to figure out what the book was talking about, as according to what he could fish up on Wikipedia, even the people involved in the film had no clue what the story was supposed to mean. Not to mention that the movie was terrible.
Chalk up another point for incomprehensible 'cerebral' literature.
At about that moment, Mr. Howard came in, no doubt already preparing to deliver another giant gush about the amazing cultural value of what, to Harold, was essentially a very heavy paperweight. If the self-declared genius didn't have to take this class to graduate, he'd probably have already skipped out and thrown the book through a window, walking through the rest of the day whistling a merry song. But as life didn't work that way, he simply braced himself for the inevitable, hoping not to get called upon to answer anything weighty.
Having been seated in class before Dustin had arrived, Harold raised his head from The Magus to notice that the fellow was spending most of his time gazing out the window. Casting a quick glance outside as well, he realized that the only remotely interesting thing out there was a group of girls doing calisthenics. Including, he noted, forward bends and jumping jacks. It didn't take a genius of Harold's caliber to put two and two together.
Looks like somebody is getting led around by the thing between the legs today.
It was a testament to how boring Harold found this book they had to read that he had even looked up at all. Literature was dull, dull, dull, with no pictures, sounds, music, special effects, or anything of that sort to add onto the experience. Certainly, there were descriptions of places, but to a person lacking a decent imagination beyond what he could see right in front of him, all they did was give a bit of context. A dash of color to what would otherwise be an empty white void where people lived out their meaningless lives, fought cliched villains, and then maybe found love. Harold probably would get more entertainment value out of creating two sock puppets and having them repeat a story's dialogue in squeaky voices.
Not helping matters is that in this case, Harold couldn't even depend on the film adaptation to figure out what the book was talking about, as according to what he could fish up on Wikipedia, even the people involved in the film had no clue what the story was supposed to mean. Not to mention that the movie was terrible.
Chalk up another point for incomprehensible 'cerebral' literature.
At about that moment, Mr. Howard came in, no doubt already preparing to deliver another giant gush about the amazing cultural value of what, to Harold, was essentially a very heavy paperweight. If the self-declared genius didn't have to take this class to graduate, he'd probably have already skipped out and thrown the book through a window, walking through the rest of the day whistling a merry song. But as life didn't work that way, he simply braced himself for the inevitable, hoping not to get called upon to answer anything weighty.
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MurderWeasel
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((Aaron Hughes continued from D&D Night))
Aaron sauntered into class with a reasonable safety margin. He didn't like being late, not at all, and this was especially true at school, where so many of the teachers loved descending on late students like hellish furies, degrading and humiliating them for their inabilities to make it across the school, to their lockers, and back again in the meager amount of time provided for the purpose. Teachers had it easy. They didn't need to change rooms, at least not frequently, and no one harassed them if they were late.
Aaron dug the book out of his bag. It was way too big for school reading. No teacher had any right to assign something of that size. Aaron usually liked Greek literature, at least the interesting stuff like The Odyssey, but this "Magus" thing was a disgrace. It wasn't even about anything interesting. There was no Zeus running around smiting mortals, no Hades dragging people back into the underworld. No, it was some boring junk about a guy teaching English. What a waste of over six hundred pages.
Fortunately for his sanity, Aaron had read only twenty of them before going to Sparknotes. It wasn't that he needed help with this book. He was smart enough to understand it. It just wasn't worth his time.
He made his way to his desk, a few seats from Dustin's, and sat down. He pulled the book out, not opening it, but ready to at a moment's notice. Teachers always liked it when he pretended to care about stupid things.
Aaron sauntered into class with a reasonable safety margin. He didn't like being late, not at all, and this was especially true at school, where so many of the teachers loved descending on late students like hellish furies, degrading and humiliating them for their inabilities to make it across the school, to their lockers, and back again in the meager amount of time provided for the purpose. Teachers had it easy. They didn't need to change rooms, at least not frequently, and no one harassed them if they were late.
Aaron dug the book out of his bag. It was way too big for school reading. No teacher had any right to assign something of that size. Aaron usually liked Greek literature, at least the interesting stuff like The Odyssey, but this "Magus" thing was a disgrace. It wasn't even about anything interesting. There was no Zeus running around smiting mortals, no Hades dragging people back into the underworld. No, it was some boring junk about a guy teaching English. What a waste of over six hundred pages.
Fortunately for his sanity, Aaron had read only twenty of them before going to Sparknotes. It wasn't that he needed help with this book. He was smart enough to understand it. It just wasn't worth his time.
He made his way to his desk, a few seats from Dustin's, and sat down. He pulled the book out, not opening it, but ready to at a moment's notice. Teachers always liked it when he pretended to care about stupid things.
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LoneArcher†
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[Aimee Kowalski's Debut]
Aimee brushed a strand of hair out of her face as she walked into the classroom, book already in hand. She smiled at Mr. Howard and quickly took her place in the back of the classroom. People had asked her before why she liked to sit in the very back if she actually liked going to most of her classes, but she really had a straight answer to it. She supposed it was probably because there was a little bit more breathing room in terms of appearance. A teacher was less likely to notice if a student wasn't sitting straight if he or she was as far away as possible, and despite her general enjoyment of school, she wasn't the type to sit perfectly straight, hands folded, and eyes at complete attention. Besides, Mr. Howard kind of scared her at times.
From the back of the room Aimee could see the heads of all of her present classmates. She placed The Magus on the desk, with post-it notes stuck in at the most important quotes, of course, and prepared herself for what could either be an intellectually stimulating discussion... or a lecture. If there was one thing she didn't like about Mr. Howard's classes, it was his insistence on having classes that absolute bored her mixed in with those she enjoyed.
A couple of students were looking out the window and, in turn, Aimee peered at the backs of their heads. People watching always interested her and if there was a competitive sport for it, she'd gladly apply to be the team captain. From her angle though, she couldn't tell exactly what they were looking at. Considering the weather, she concluded they were probably just staring into space at some unfocused point outside. She scanned the room for any indication of what they would be doing in class that day but was interrupted by a secondary bell. The bells seemed to ring closer and closer together each day. Aimee wouldn't be surprised if in a couple of years, the first and second bells would just ring back to back. A part of her was glad she wouldn't be at the school any longer.
Aimee brushed a strand of hair out of her face as she walked into the classroom, book already in hand. She smiled at Mr. Howard and quickly took her place in the back of the classroom. People had asked her before why she liked to sit in the very back if she actually liked going to most of her classes, but she really had a straight answer to it. She supposed it was probably because there was a little bit more breathing room in terms of appearance. A teacher was less likely to notice if a student wasn't sitting straight if he or she was as far away as possible, and despite her general enjoyment of school, she wasn't the type to sit perfectly straight, hands folded, and eyes at complete attention. Besides, Mr. Howard kind of scared her at times.
From the back of the room Aimee could see the heads of all of her present classmates. She placed The Magus on the desk, with post-it notes stuck in at the most important quotes, of course, and prepared herself for what could either be an intellectually stimulating discussion... or a lecture. If there was one thing she didn't like about Mr. Howard's classes, it was his insistence on having classes that absolute bored her mixed in with those she enjoyed.
A couple of students were looking out the window and, in turn, Aimee peered at the backs of their heads. People watching always interested her and if there was a competitive sport for it, she'd gladly apply to be the team captain. From her angle though, she couldn't tell exactly what they were looking at. Considering the weather, she concluded they were probably just staring into space at some unfocused point outside. She scanned the room for any indication of what they would be doing in class that day but was interrupted by a secondary bell. The bells seemed to ring closer and closer together each day. Aimee wouldn't be surprised if in a couple of years, the first and second bells would just ring back to back. A part of her was glad she wouldn't be at the school any longer.
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Pigeon Army†
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A second bell chimed through the hallways, the final tolling for those still scampering to class. Dustin leaned back in his chair, watching the final few stragglers spill in while Mr. Howard shot them angry glances, as if they'd just kicked his azalea garden around. Then, he walked up to the front of the class and chalked one word up on the board -
ELEUTHEREA.
He repeated the word on the board, and Dustin let out a not-so-inaudible groan. This was usually the cue for a lecture from Mr. Howard, and if there was one thing Dustin hated, it was Mr. Howard lecturing. The man's monotonous drone could send even the most insomnia-afflicted student into a coma, and Dustin wasn't that student. He quickly turned back to the window, but even sneaking peeks at the girls doing athletics practice couldn't stave off the fantastic sedating power of the teacher's voice, and closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the window.
"MR. ROYAL."
Dustin snapped back into the real world, blinking as he saw Mr. Howard, and the entire class, looking at him. Only one of the people in the room didn't look like they were stifling a laugh, and unfortunately, that one person was the one who marked his term papers.
"Yeah, Mr. Howard?"
"Tell me what the significance of the recreation of the execution of the Greek freedom fighters has to the theme of freedom, Mr. Royal."
"Ummm..." Dustin blanked, and for good reason - he hadn't reached that finished the assigned reading yet. In fact, it was two hundred pages after the page Mr. Howard had told them to read to - not that Dustin knew that - and Mr. Howard was just testing him. Of course, Dustin knew he did this all the time; hell, Mr. Howard had done it two days ago to that Kowalski girl when he'd asked her about Lily and the significance of the boat.
"It's not in the reading you told us to do, Mr. Howard."
Mr. Howard smiled cannily, as if he'd hidden a bomb under Dustin's desk and was just stalling before it exploded. "Good man," he said quietly. "Just don't let me catch you napping again."
Dustin smiled disingenuously at Mr. Howard and then scanned the room. He glanced at the Kowalski girl, and could've sworn he caught her eye. So, as Mr. Howard talked about the relationship of the main character with his ex-girlfriend and the significance of that in relation to the discussion of freedom in the text, Dustin turned back to the girl and stared for a second, smiling.
She wasn't bad-looking. He had to give her that.
But then, he had a thing for ponytails.
ELEUTHEREA.
He repeated the word on the board, and Dustin let out a not-so-inaudible groan. This was usually the cue for a lecture from Mr. Howard, and if there was one thing Dustin hated, it was Mr. Howard lecturing. The man's monotonous drone could send even the most insomnia-afflicted student into a coma, and Dustin wasn't that student. He quickly turned back to the window, but even sneaking peeks at the girls doing athletics practice couldn't stave off the fantastic sedating power of the teacher's voice, and closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the window.
"MR. ROYAL."
Dustin snapped back into the real world, blinking as he saw Mr. Howard, and the entire class, looking at him. Only one of the people in the room didn't look like they were stifling a laugh, and unfortunately, that one person was the one who marked his term papers.
"Yeah, Mr. Howard?"
"Tell me what the significance of the recreation of the execution of the Greek freedom fighters has to the theme of freedom, Mr. Royal."
"Ummm..." Dustin blanked, and for good reason - he hadn't reached that finished the assigned reading yet. In fact, it was two hundred pages after the page Mr. Howard had told them to read to - not that Dustin knew that - and Mr. Howard was just testing him. Of course, Dustin knew he did this all the time; hell, Mr. Howard had done it two days ago to that Kowalski girl when he'd asked her about Lily and the significance of the boat.
"It's not in the reading you told us to do, Mr. Howard."
Mr. Howard smiled cannily, as if he'd hidden a bomb under Dustin's desk and was just stalling before it exploded. "Good man," he said quietly. "Just don't let me catch you napping again."
Dustin smiled disingenuously at Mr. Howard and then scanned the room. He glanced at the Kowalski girl, and could've sworn he caught her eye. So, as Mr. Howard talked about the relationship of the main character with his ex-girlfriend and the significance of that in relation to the discussion of freedom in the text, Dustin turned back to the girl and stared for a second, smiling.
She wasn't bad-looking. He had to give her that.
But then, he had a thing for ponytails.
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And so it began. Mr. Howard's mandatory you-should-be-writing-down-everything-I-say lecture seemed rather contradictory in terms of what was said in the syllabus about students learning to interpret literature. You would think that he would leave the analysis of a book's meaning to the students, correcting them only if they were completely missing the point, but such was not the case. In his class, either you saw the book his way, or you would probably get marked off on the short answer questions. Harold had learned by now that the easier way to get grades was not to strain his brain about assigned reading, but simply to nod like a bobblehead doll at every "poignant" word that streamed forth from this "virtuoso of writing."
I do so hope that he does not go into his silly similes and metaphors again, otherwise my mind will probably start shrinking.
Harold would probably have fallen asleep along with many of his peers, but like with most classes, his apathy about the curriculum was superseded by his overwhelming desire to not flunk. His parents only let him do and dress however he wanted because they thought it did not adversely affect his performance in class. If his grades started slipping down into the B range or lower, his father and mother would probably start forcing him to do some reading at home, or even comb his hair so that it did not stick up. If he desired his freedom, he would need to stay diligent in acing tests.
"MR. ROYAL!"
Harold's pudgy cheeks shook slightly when his head snapped up, looking to see what had caused Mr. Howard to suddenly raise his voice. He found it soon enough in the form of Dustin, who had apparently lacked the willpower to stay conscious through the professor's vicious verbal onslaught of extreme dullness. Snickering softly, the self-proclaimed genius leaned back a little in his chair, watching with smug satisfaction as the young Mr. Royal got grilled. It was a little disappointing when Dustin answered the teacher's question correctly.
"Lucky man," he mumbled to himself, sitting back up to a straight position before slumping forward again with his chin leaning on his palm. "I wish you had been lucky enough to get class canceled."
"What is that, Mr. Fisher?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Harold replied, fumbling in his brain for a quick replacement for his original statement. "You see, I'm a little confused about the whole Eleutherea thing. The closest I could find to that word was Eleuthera in Hawaii and Eleutherae in Greece. I assume you're talking about the latter, yes? Because this book is set in Greece? In which case, maybe it's just a misspelling or a slip of the-"
"I wrote down what I meant to write, Mr. Fisher. If you have a comment, then raise your hand first. Alright?"
"Whatever."
"Wonderful. Now, as I was saying..."
Harold considered raising his hand to give a harsh comment to the professor, but decided against it, because he did not feel that Mr. Howard was worth it. He would have plenty of time to post denigrating comments about his performance on that website that reviewed instructors.
I do so hope that he does not go into his silly similes and metaphors again, otherwise my mind will probably start shrinking.
Harold would probably have fallen asleep along with many of his peers, but like with most classes, his apathy about the curriculum was superseded by his overwhelming desire to not flunk. His parents only let him do and dress however he wanted because they thought it did not adversely affect his performance in class. If his grades started slipping down into the B range or lower, his father and mother would probably start forcing him to do some reading at home, or even comb his hair so that it did not stick up. If he desired his freedom, he would need to stay diligent in acing tests.
"MR. ROYAL!"
Harold's pudgy cheeks shook slightly when his head snapped up, looking to see what had caused Mr. Howard to suddenly raise his voice. He found it soon enough in the form of Dustin, who had apparently lacked the willpower to stay conscious through the professor's vicious verbal onslaught of extreme dullness. Snickering softly, the self-proclaimed genius leaned back a little in his chair, watching with smug satisfaction as the young Mr. Royal got grilled. It was a little disappointing when Dustin answered the teacher's question correctly.
"Lucky man," he mumbled to himself, sitting back up to a straight position before slumping forward again with his chin leaning on his palm. "I wish you had been lucky enough to get class canceled."
"What is that, Mr. Fisher?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Harold replied, fumbling in his brain for a quick replacement for his original statement. "You see, I'm a little confused about the whole Eleutherea thing. The closest I could find to that word was Eleuthera in Hawaii and Eleutherae in Greece. I assume you're talking about the latter, yes? Because this book is set in Greece? In which case, maybe it's just a misspelling or a slip of the-"
"I wrote down what I meant to write, Mr. Fisher. If you have a comment, then raise your hand first. Alright?"
"Whatever."
"Wonderful. Now, as I was saying..."
Harold considered raising his hand to give a harsh comment to the professor, but decided against it, because he did not feel that Mr. Howard was worth it. He would have plenty of time to post denigrating comments about his performance on that website that reviewed instructors.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2565
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The second bell rang, and Mr. Howard began class, and his usual boring lecture. Aaron wished he could just check out and sleep with his eyes open or something, but that was one skill he had never acquired. He took out a notebook and started taking notes, pausing to doodle in the margins. Mr. Howard was talking about something called "Eleutherea", which sounded like a cheap '50s sci-fi flick. That brought up some interesting ideas. What if there were a world where all government was handled according to the dictates of old fiction? Aaron started writing about that, but then Mr. Howard called on Dustin, rather loudly.
Aaron snapped his head around. Apparently Dustin had actually fallen asleep. Aaron had to choke back a laugh. Dustin was absolutely screwed now. Mr. Howard was a terrible teacher, but at least witnessing his wrath (from a safe distance) was amusing. Aaron began attempting to calculate the odds of Dustin getting detention, but math just wasn't coming. Besides, it was a near sure bet.
Then Dustin did the impossible, guessing the answer to the teacher's question, a trick question, no less. Aaron frowned. Of course it was a trick question. Mr. Howard never played fair when he had prey in sight. No, like some evil, intellectual housecat he toyed with his targets a little first. Dustin had escaped, though. It was rather disappointing. Class would return now to the dull mundanity of a typical day.
Just when everything had seemed to calm down, Harold had to go and mutter something under his breath, again drawing Mr. Howard's ire. Now Aaron did smile. He didn't really know Harold at all, but from what he knew, he didn't like the boy. Harold seemed so full of himself, an opinion that was reinforced as he corrected Mr. Howard on his Greek. Who bothered learning Greek? That was what dictionaries were for. Aaron was smart, but that meant more than just spouting pretentious intellectual crap. He was smart enough to know when to let the internet do the work for him.
Harold, like Dustin, wriggled off of Mr. Howard's hook. It was weird.
I wonder if someone finally figured out that he's rabid. Maybe they've medicated him.
Aaron almost giggled. Almost. He managed to restrain himself, though. There was no point in testing the teacher, especially not after he'd been denied the opportunity for vengeance twice already.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, and hoping the next interruption would prove more diverting, Aaron continued to scribble in his notebook.
Aaron snapped his head around. Apparently Dustin had actually fallen asleep. Aaron had to choke back a laugh. Dustin was absolutely screwed now. Mr. Howard was a terrible teacher, but at least witnessing his wrath (from a safe distance) was amusing. Aaron began attempting to calculate the odds of Dustin getting detention, but math just wasn't coming. Besides, it was a near sure bet.
Then Dustin did the impossible, guessing the answer to the teacher's question, a trick question, no less. Aaron frowned. Of course it was a trick question. Mr. Howard never played fair when he had prey in sight. No, like some evil, intellectual housecat he toyed with his targets a little first. Dustin had escaped, though. It was rather disappointing. Class would return now to the dull mundanity of a typical day.
Just when everything had seemed to calm down, Harold had to go and mutter something under his breath, again drawing Mr. Howard's ire. Now Aaron did smile. He didn't really know Harold at all, but from what he knew, he didn't like the boy. Harold seemed so full of himself, an opinion that was reinforced as he corrected Mr. Howard on his Greek. Who bothered learning Greek? That was what dictionaries were for. Aaron was smart, but that meant more than just spouting pretentious intellectual crap. He was smart enough to know when to let the internet do the work for him.
Harold, like Dustin, wriggled off of Mr. Howard's hook. It was weird.
I wonder if someone finally figured out that he's rabid. Maybe they've medicated him.
Aaron almost giggled. Almost. He managed to restrain himself, though. There was no point in testing the teacher, especially not after he'd been denied the opportunity for vengeance twice already.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, and hoping the next interruption would prove more diverting, Aaron continued to scribble in his notebook.
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LoneArcher†
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Aimee held her head up and tried to appear attentive. If it was any other day, she would have at least been semi-interested in Mr. Howard's lecture, but it wasn't a good day for her. She had run out of pretty much anything edible for breakfast and only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before so she was simultaneously hungry and tired. She resigned herself to flipping through the book in an attempt to make it look like she was trying to find appropriate context and quotes to participate in the discussion.
For a brief second, she could have sworn her eye caught a certain Dustin Royal's. She stared at him for a short while, with a mixture of confusion and surprise before turning away again. She didn't know him very well and assumed it was one of those accidental eye contact moments.
"You see, I'm a little confused about the whole Eleutherea thing. The closest I could find to that word was Eleuthera in Hawaii and Eleutherae in Greece. I assume you're talking about the latter, yes?"
Aimee looked up, surprised, at Harold Fisher. Pretty much everyone disliked Mr. Howard's lectures, but few had the gall to actually question or correct him. A guy had to either be very brave or very stupid to even think about talking back, and Aimee was starting to think Harold was leaning towards the stupid side. She had half the heart to raise her hand and help him out, but decided it'd be more interesting to see how it played out. Besides, there really wasn't much else to do, and she doubted she'd actually be able to help much with the situation.
Aimee took a sweeping glance at the rest of the students in the room, gauging their reactions. A few seemed genuinely surprised, but several students were already sleeping or staring too far into space to actually comprehend what was going on. She closed the book and looked up at Mr. Howard.
"I wrote down what I meant to write, Mr. Fisher. If you have a comment, then raise your hand first. Alright?" He glared at Harold with all of the agitation of a pufferfish with bowel problems. "Wonderful. Now, as I was saying..."
"Excuse me, Mr. Howard," Aimee began raising a hand. "So then, would you be referring to the Hawaiian 'Eleutherea' because it doesn't seem to apply to our study of The Magus, as Hawaii and Greece are, as you should know, very far apart."
She swallowed and smiled placing her hand back on the desk and trying to get her 'I'm a straight A student that's happy and polite' face on. There was no way he could get too angry at her considering she was usually one of the few students that actually played along with him. Bracing herself for impact, she threw another look at Dustin and turned back at Mr. Howard.
For a brief second, she could have sworn her eye caught a certain Dustin Royal's. She stared at him for a short while, with a mixture of confusion and surprise before turning away again. She didn't know him very well and assumed it was one of those accidental eye contact moments.
"You see, I'm a little confused about the whole Eleutherea thing. The closest I could find to that word was Eleuthera in Hawaii and Eleutherae in Greece. I assume you're talking about the latter, yes?"
Aimee looked up, surprised, at Harold Fisher. Pretty much everyone disliked Mr. Howard's lectures, but few had the gall to actually question or correct him. A guy had to either be very brave or very stupid to even think about talking back, and Aimee was starting to think Harold was leaning towards the stupid side. She had half the heart to raise her hand and help him out, but decided it'd be more interesting to see how it played out. Besides, there really wasn't much else to do, and she doubted she'd actually be able to help much with the situation.
Aimee took a sweeping glance at the rest of the students in the room, gauging their reactions. A few seemed genuinely surprised, but several students were already sleeping or staring too far into space to actually comprehend what was going on. She closed the book and looked up at Mr. Howard.
"I wrote down what I meant to write, Mr. Fisher. If you have a comment, then raise your hand first. Alright?" He glared at Harold with all of the agitation of a pufferfish with bowel problems. "Wonderful. Now, as I was saying..."
"Excuse me, Mr. Howard," Aimee began raising a hand. "So then, would you be referring to the Hawaiian 'Eleutherea' because it doesn't seem to apply to our study of The Magus, as Hawaii and Greece are, as you should know, very far apart."
She swallowed and smiled placing her hand back on the desk and trying to get her 'I'm a straight A student that's happy and polite' face on. There was no way he could get too angry at her considering she was usually one of the few students that actually played along with him. Bracing herself for impact, she threw another look at Dustin and turned back at Mr. Howard.
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Pigeon Army†
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Dustin watched as first Harold, and then Aimee, questioned Mr. Howard's employment of the term "eleutherea". Mr. Howard's bristly response to Harold had set off warning bells in Dustin's head, but the teacher had let him off the hook, relatively speaking. It didn't help that while the subject of today's class wasn't something that had been covered in the assigned reading yet, Mr. Howard's history of dealing with stuff that would come soon extended to entire lectures, and he had a slightly unreasonable expectation of his students to actually do forward reading.
And worst of all, Mr. Howard hated being called out on spelling mistakes.
Dustin looked at Aimee, and then at their teacher, who was glaring at the petite girl. Mt. Howard was seconds from erupting, and Dustin braced himself as the explosion neared.
"Miss Kowalski."
"Here we go..."
"You'd do well to not give me lip again. If you had read past the first chapter, which you clearly haven't, you would know that The Magus deals extensively with the Greek concept of freedom, or eleuthera, and in relation to Nicholas' treatment of women and his repressed approach to life. So clearly, Miss Kowalski, you and your friend's inane one-upmanship only serves to highlight just how little you've done."
Mr. Howard turned to the board, and Dustin watched with amusement as the colour drained from his face and he realised what that "inane one-upmanship" was about. The teacher wheeled around, staring daggers at the attractive young lady.
"And FURTHERMORE, Miss Kowalski and Mr Fisher, if you want to call attention to my spelling mistakes, don't do it in such a way as to pretend I am a fool. If you're so confident in your abilities, you can have personal lessons with the principal, and I'll gladly arrange them."
Dustin could barely repress his laughter as Mr. Howard turned around and returned to his blustering lecture on eleuthera. He jotted down a little note and passed it over the rows to Aimee. As the note arrived, he smiled at the girl, hoping she found the note's contents endearing - That was some brave stuff. Foolhardy, but brave. I like that. Dustin.
And worst of all, Mr. Howard hated being called out on spelling mistakes.
Dustin looked at Aimee, and then at their teacher, who was glaring at the petite girl. Mt. Howard was seconds from erupting, and Dustin braced himself as the explosion neared.
"Miss Kowalski."
"Here we go..."
"You'd do well to not give me lip again. If you had read past the first chapter, which you clearly haven't, you would know that The Magus deals extensively with the Greek concept of freedom, or eleuthera, and in relation to Nicholas' treatment of women and his repressed approach to life. So clearly, Miss Kowalski, you and your friend's inane one-upmanship only serves to highlight just how little you've done."
Mr. Howard turned to the board, and Dustin watched with amusement as the colour drained from his face and he realised what that "inane one-upmanship" was about. The teacher wheeled around, staring daggers at the attractive young lady.
"And FURTHERMORE, Miss Kowalski and Mr Fisher, if you want to call attention to my spelling mistakes, don't do it in such a way as to pretend I am a fool. If you're so confident in your abilities, you can have personal lessons with the principal, and I'll gladly arrange them."
Dustin could barely repress his laughter as Mr. Howard turned around and returned to his blustering lecture on eleuthera. He jotted down a little note and passed it over the rows to Aimee. As the note arrived, he smiled at the girl, hoping she found the note's contents endearing - That was some brave stuff. Foolhardy, but brave. I like that. Dustin.
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Personal lessons with the principal...now there was a scintillating thought. Considering Harold's general opinion of this school's staff, it would have been equivalent to just threaten to throw him and Aimee in prison. The self-proclaimed genius couldn't really say that he was emotionally affected by it though. At worst, all a date with the principal meant was that he'd be staying at school for an extra hour or two, and he could just eat at McDonald's or something on the way home. If he went straight home after school, he wouldn't have the excuse.
As he was about to take Mr. Howard up on his offer, however, Harold had another thought. If he got into trouble at school, this boredom-inducing excuse for a teacher might call his parents, and there would go his privileges. Better to just play it cool for now, and hope that he'd have an opportunity to mock the teacher in a way that wasn't obvious. A subtle way, even.
"Now then, Eleuthera!" Mr. Howard snapped, correcting the end part of the word he had written on the board. "As I mentioned, it stands for freedom. Who here can give me an example of the author's view on freedom? Not you, Mr. Fisher. You had your chance to contribute."
Harold slumped forward on his hands again, watching the students attempt to volunteer information that the teacher would accept. With any luck, the bell would toll for this man, and he would be forced to let his guinea pigs escape into the wild, or in Harold's case, gym class. In the meantime, he simply slid over his notebook and began mindlessly transcribing whatever Mr. Howard said. Knowing him, meaningless minutiae would be at the forefront of the upcoming test, and so every little detail was relevant.
As he was about to take Mr. Howard up on his offer, however, Harold had another thought. If he got into trouble at school, this boredom-inducing excuse for a teacher might call his parents, and there would go his privileges. Better to just play it cool for now, and hope that he'd have an opportunity to mock the teacher in a way that wasn't obvious. A subtle way, even.
"Now then, Eleuthera!" Mr. Howard snapped, correcting the end part of the word he had written on the board. "As I mentioned, it stands for freedom. Who here can give me an example of the author's view on freedom? Not you, Mr. Fisher. You had your chance to contribute."
Harold slumped forward on his hands again, watching the students attempt to volunteer information that the teacher would accept. With any luck, the bell would toll for this man, and he would be forced to let his guinea pigs escape into the wild, or in Harold's case, gym class. In the meantime, he simply slid over his notebook and began mindlessly transcribing whatever Mr. Howard said. Knowing him, meaningless minutiae would be at the forefront of the upcoming test, and so every little detail was relevant.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2565
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Almost as soon as he turned back to his notebook, Aimee spoke up, and Aaron looked up, suppressing a wide grin. This was going to be good. Aimee was normally one of the people who played along with Mr. Howard's game. She was probably counting on that to save her, but Aaron wasn't so sure that would be how it panned out. Mr. Howard might view it as some sort of crazy betrayal or something, and get even madder.
Then she had to go and taunt him. Aaron's eyes widened a little. That was a bad move. A really bad move. He could almost feel for Mr. Howard; incompetent and mean-spirited though he was, he was being given an incredibly hard time. There didn't even seem to be any real reason for it, either. It was just a stupid spelling mistake. Had Aaron been in the teacher's position, he knew he wouldn't have handled it nearly as calmly. Then again, he also wouldn't have let himself misspell a vocabulary term.
Then it came. The rant, the threats. Mr. Howard could have been a villain in a bad movie, berating the hero before feeding him (well, her) to a pit of piranhas or something stupid like that. He even ended with the predictable threat of time with the principal. It wasn't even that serious a threat; Principal Kendrick was pretty strict, sure, but he was almost certainly far more pleasant than Mr. Howard.
Then, ego appeased, he returned to the lesson. Aaron glanced around the classroom, taking looks at those involved while trying not to get caught. He noticed Dustin passing something in Aimee's general direction and cringed. Aaron was not exactly in the loop about most people's reputations at school, but he wasn't totally ignorant either. Dustin turning his attention towards some girl was almost certainly bad news for her. Still, it might at least add some tension to this class. Anything that lessened the boredom would be welcome. This day had been better than most, with the outburst, but it still was nowhere near genuinely entertaining.
Then she had to go and taunt him. Aaron's eyes widened a little. That was a bad move. A really bad move. He could almost feel for Mr. Howard; incompetent and mean-spirited though he was, he was being given an incredibly hard time. There didn't even seem to be any real reason for it, either. It was just a stupid spelling mistake. Had Aaron been in the teacher's position, he knew he wouldn't have handled it nearly as calmly. Then again, he also wouldn't have let himself misspell a vocabulary term.
Then it came. The rant, the threats. Mr. Howard could have been a villain in a bad movie, berating the hero before feeding him (well, her) to a pit of piranhas or something stupid like that. He even ended with the predictable threat of time with the principal. It wasn't even that serious a threat; Principal Kendrick was pretty strict, sure, but he was almost certainly far more pleasant than Mr. Howard.
Then, ego appeased, he returned to the lesson. Aaron glanced around the classroom, taking looks at those involved while trying not to get caught. He noticed Dustin passing something in Aimee's general direction and cringed. Aaron was not exactly in the loop about most people's reputations at school, but he wasn't totally ignorant either. Dustin turning his attention towards some girl was almost certainly bad news for her. Still, it might at least add some tension to this class. Anything that lessened the boredom would be welcome. This day had been better than most, with the outburst, but it still was nowhere near genuinely entertaining.
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LoneArcher†
- Posts: 16
- Joined: Sat Sep 15, 2018 8:17 am
Aimee suppressed a smile as Mr. Howard did the obvious thing and called her out on speaking out. She nodded as genuinely as she could and maintained perfect posture until the teacher turned around again to the board. She probably shouldn't have done it, but shrugged it off as one of the few moments she actually let herself go. Slumping onto the desk, she rested her head on her right arm, propping herself up by her fist before glancing out the window. She wished she could be outside.
She was quickly jolted to attention by the sudden arrival of a note on her desk. Suspiciously casting her eye around the classroom to gauge who could have possibly written it, she pulled it under the table and looked up to make sure Mr. Howard wasn't looking. The last thing she needed at this moment was Mr. Howard getting annoyed at her. After seeing that the teacher wasn't paying attention specifically to her, she carefully opened up the folded note and scanned its contents.
That was some brave stuff. Foolhardy, but brave. I like that. Dustin.
Aimee quietly snorted and cast a glance at Dustin. She wasn't exactly the type of person to jump at the opportunity to meeting new people, as she was more than content with the group of friends and acquaintances she currently had, but nevertheless decided to make a mental note to see what he was about after class. That is, if she could survive the lecture, of course. She took out a black pen and scribbled on the backside of the note what she thought an adequate response- Thanks. Nice job on that trick question back there. You even read it?. She decided to omit her name as she figured he'd already know where it came from and also just in case Mr. Howard got a hold of it. Then again, he'd probably be able to recognize her handwriting, but she digressed.
She tapped the boy sitting next to her and motioned for him to pass the note to Dustin before smiling and going back to her previous state of paying attention- namely not. Mr. Howard continued to lecture and rant about the themes of the book, hands moving erratically and eyes intense. It reminded Aimee of the Disney film Fantasia, but much less musical and entertaining. There also weren't any humanoid mice.
That was a pretty big difference as well.
She was quickly jolted to attention by the sudden arrival of a note on her desk. Suspiciously casting her eye around the classroom to gauge who could have possibly written it, she pulled it under the table and looked up to make sure Mr. Howard wasn't looking. The last thing she needed at this moment was Mr. Howard getting annoyed at her. After seeing that the teacher wasn't paying attention specifically to her, she carefully opened up the folded note and scanned its contents.
That was some brave stuff. Foolhardy, but brave. I like that. Dustin.
Aimee quietly snorted and cast a glance at Dustin. She wasn't exactly the type of person to jump at the opportunity to meeting new people, as she was more than content with the group of friends and acquaintances she currently had, but nevertheless decided to make a mental note to see what he was about after class. That is, if she could survive the lecture, of course. She took out a black pen and scribbled on the backside of the note what she thought an adequate response- Thanks. Nice job on that trick question back there. You even read it?. She decided to omit her name as she figured he'd already know where it came from and also just in case Mr. Howard got a hold of it. Then again, he'd probably be able to recognize her handwriting, but she digressed.
She tapped the boy sitting next to her and motioned for him to pass the note to Dustin before smiling and going back to her previous state of paying attention- namely not. Mr. Howard continued to lecture and rant about the themes of the book, hands moving erratically and eyes intense. It reminded Aimee of the Disney film Fantasia, but much less musical and entertaining. There also weren't any humanoid mice.
That was a pretty big difference as well.
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(Debut of James "Jimmy" Robertson. Out of character: For the purposes of this thread, I am writing as if Jimmy came into class on time. Also, I am making a bit of an assumption on the seating positions, so correct me if I'm wrong.)
Jimmy Robertson had practically fallen asleep. From the back row, it was pretty hard to notice from the teacher's standpoint. He was especially glad of it when it came to books like The Magus. What was worst was that it seemed like a pretty good read. Godgame? Pretty cool idea. What is reality? Nice question. Then Jimmy opened the book, and got bored. It was somewhere around page 100 where he found himself unable to endure. Since he had stayed up late playing the odd video game (he didn't play a lot, but Mass Effect was awesome), he figured he'd catch a few winks while Mr. Howard droned on. He was about to go into a blissful slumber when he heard something.
"... I'm a little confused about the whole Eleutherea thing. The closest I could find to that word was Eleuthera in Hawaii and Eleutherae in Greece. I assume you're talking about the latter, yes? Because this book is set in Greece? In which case, maybe it's just a misspelling or a slip of the-"
Whoa. Was someone questioning Mr. Howard? Not that it wasn't fun, but he was wildly insecure. It was all in the way he responded to such questions. A teacher that was secure would either calmly admit to the mistake, if it had happened, or clear things up. Mr. Howard, chose to rebut. And not as calmly. Then another voice added to the clamor.
"So then, would you be referring to the Hawaiian 'Eleutherea' because it doesn't seem to apply to our study of The Magus, as Hawaii and Greece are, as you should know, very far apart." Wow. This was going to get good.
"You'd do well to not give me lip again. If you had read past the first chapter, which you clearly haven't, you would know that The Magus deals extensively with the Greek concept of freedom, or eleuthera, and in relation to Nicholas' treatment of women and his repressed approach to life. So clearly, Miss Kowalski, you and your friend's inane one-upmanship only serves to highlight just how little you've done. And FURTHERMORE, Miss Kowalski and Mr Fisher, if you want to call attention to my spelling mistakes, don't do it in such a way as to pretend I am a fool. If you're so confident in your abilities, you can have personal lessons with the principal, and I'll gladly arrange them."
Hoo boy. This was good. He normally didn't like to start fights, but Mr. Howard's song and dance was funny. He chuckled silently when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked and saw the girl to his right with a note. Aimee Kowalski. Near victim #1. He took the note from her hand, looking at it. On the back, it said "That was some brave stuff. Foolhardy, but brave. I like that. Dustin." (Probably from the person she got it from), and on the other side, in black pen, it read "Thanks. Nice job on that trick question back there. You even read it?"
He looked at it for a second, and added a post-script under Aimee's note in pencil. Dude, that was AWESOME! It actually made me ask questions. He then folded it up, and passed it on to the next person, furtively signaling to Dustin. Jimmy turned to Aimee and mouthed "Sweet move."
Jimmy Robertson had practically fallen asleep. From the back row, it was pretty hard to notice from the teacher's standpoint. He was especially glad of it when it came to books like The Magus. What was worst was that it seemed like a pretty good read. Godgame? Pretty cool idea. What is reality? Nice question. Then Jimmy opened the book, and got bored. It was somewhere around page 100 where he found himself unable to endure. Since he had stayed up late playing the odd video game (he didn't play a lot, but Mass Effect was awesome), he figured he'd catch a few winks while Mr. Howard droned on. He was about to go into a blissful slumber when he heard something.
"... I'm a little confused about the whole Eleutherea thing. The closest I could find to that word was Eleuthera in Hawaii and Eleutherae in Greece. I assume you're talking about the latter, yes? Because this book is set in Greece? In which case, maybe it's just a misspelling or a slip of the-"
Whoa. Was someone questioning Mr. Howard? Not that it wasn't fun, but he was wildly insecure. It was all in the way he responded to such questions. A teacher that was secure would either calmly admit to the mistake, if it had happened, or clear things up. Mr. Howard, chose to rebut. And not as calmly. Then another voice added to the clamor.
"So then, would you be referring to the Hawaiian 'Eleutherea' because it doesn't seem to apply to our study of The Magus, as Hawaii and Greece are, as you should know, very far apart." Wow. This was going to get good.
"You'd do well to not give me lip again. If you had read past the first chapter, which you clearly haven't, you would know that The Magus deals extensively with the Greek concept of freedom, or eleuthera, and in relation to Nicholas' treatment of women and his repressed approach to life. So clearly, Miss Kowalski, you and your friend's inane one-upmanship only serves to highlight just how little you've done. And FURTHERMORE, Miss Kowalski and Mr Fisher, if you want to call attention to my spelling mistakes, don't do it in such a way as to pretend I am a fool. If you're so confident in your abilities, you can have personal lessons with the principal, and I'll gladly arrange them."
Hoo boy. This was good. He normally didn't like to start fights, but Mr. Howard's song and dance was funny. He chuckled silently when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked and saw the girl to his right with a note. Aimee Kowalski. Near victim #1. He took the note from her hand, looking at it. On the back, it said "That was some brave stuff. Foolhardy, but brave. I like that. Dustin." (Probably from the person she got it from), and on the other side, in black pen, it read "Thanks. Nice job on that trick question back there. You even read it?"
He looked at it for a second, and added a post-script under Aimee's note in pencil. Dude, that was AWESOME! It actually made me ask questions. He then folded it up, and passed it on to the next person, furtively signaling to Dustin. Jimmy turned to Aimee and mouthed "Sweet move."
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
As the lecture began to wind down, springing up hope of its ending, Harold noticed that some of the students in the class had began to act restless. Maybe his interruption had succeeded in putting a little life into the tedium of regular classwork. Not that he cared much about being popular, but he was at least smart enough to realize that actions had consequences, and in this case, the consequences seemed to be instilling a bit of liveliness into the assembled class. Some of them had even begun to pass notes around in lieu of whispering or talking directly.
In any other class where the information was actually useful for something, Harold would probably have called out James, Aimee and Dustin to the teacher for passing notes around. However, in the case of Mr. Howard, any amount of discord and disrespect was absolutely fine with him.
Let the idiot think that he's actually making an impression on people. As soon as this semester is over, I'll make certain to forcibly forget every single thing he tried to teach us.
In the middle of Harold's internal monologue, the bell suddenly rang, disrupting his concentration. Turning back to the class, Mr. Howard began to gather up his materials and said to the class, "In preparation for next class, I want all of you to read through next week's assigned reading of The Magus. I will be drawing questions from that part of the book, so I expect you all to know it beforehand."
"Yeah. Sure," Harold mumbled under his breath as he gathered up the blasted brick of a book and stuffed it into his bag. He had no people he cared to talk to, so he simply slung his bag over his shoulders and sauntered out, giving Aimee a quiet, "Thanks for playing along," as he walked by. If she wanted more affirmation of her daring from him, she'd be sorely disappointed, as he found her imitation of his comment to be considerably poor. And yet she was the one who was getting all the messages passed to her.
Probably just because she's a girl, he thought as he walked over to the door, thrust it open, and strode on through, heedless of whether or not anybody was behind him. They could hold their own doors.
(Harold Fisher continued in Going Balls Deep)
In any other class where the information was actually useful for something, Harold would probably have called out James, Aimee and Dustin to the teacher for passing notes around. However, in the case of Mr. Howard, any amount of discord and disrespect was absolutely fine with him.
Let the idiot think that he's actually making an impression on people. As soon as this semester is over, I'll make certain to forcibly forget every single thing he tried to teach us.
In the middle of Harold's internal monologue, the bell suddenly rang, disrupting his concentration. Turning back to the class, Mr. Howard began to gather up his materials and said to the class, "In preparation for next class, I want all of you to read through next week's assigned reading of The Magus. I will be drawing questions from that part of the book, so I expect you all to know it beforehand."
"Yeah. Sure," Harold mumbled under his breath as he gathered up the blasted brick of a book and stuffed it into his bag. He had no people he cared to talk to, so he simply slung his bag over his shoulders and sauntered out, giving Aimee a quiet, "Thanks for playing along," as he walked by. If she wanted more affirmation of her daring from him, she'd be sorely disappointed, as he found her imitation of his comment to be considerably poor. And yet she was the one who was getting all the messages passed to her.
Probably just because she's a girl, he thought as he walked over to the door, thrust it open, and strode on through, heedless of whether or not anybody was behind him. They could hold their own doors.
(Harold Fisher continued in Going Balls Deep)
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Pigeon Army†
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
((Sorry for holding the thread up.))
Thankfully, the note made a relatively safe journey to Aimee. She looked at it and seemed to snort quietly, the derisive emptying of the sinuses immediately followed by a surreptitious glance in his direction. He flashed a sly smile as she turned back to the note, scribbling something down and passing it back. Dustin nabbed the note from someone who seemed intent on hijacking it, turning to the back of the paper where Aimee had scribbled her reply - Thanks. Nice job on that trick question back there. You even read it? Dustin smiled - he was getting somewhere with this girl, which was definitely something in Bayview. Most girls knew better than to play with fire, and Dustin was a towering inferno to the majority of Bayview's females.
Aimee obviously wasn't one of them.
Dustin briefly jotted down a reply - Ha, only a bit. You seem to have read much more, though. Meet me after, talk me through? - and passed it to Note Hijacker, staring daggers at the boy so he didn't try and interfere this time. As the note reached Aimee's desk, the bell rang, interrupting Mr. Howard's high-faluting lecture. He turned and said something about assigned reading, but Dustin was already sweeping his books into his bag and standing up, swinging the bag over his shoulder in one swift motion. He gestured to Aimee with a little head nod to the door, and strolled outside, making sure to drop a cursory "thanks" to Mr. Howard as he walked out. It didn't hurt to at least make the teacher think you enjoyed their classes, Dustin knew that much. With that, he walked into the corridor, leaned up against a wall, and waited for the young, bookish lass he was subtly propositioning to make her exit.
Thankfully, the note made a relatively safe journey to Aimee. She looked at it and seemed to snort quietly, the derisive emptying of the sinuses immediately followed by a surreptitious glance in his direction. He flashed a sly smile as she turned back to the note, scribbling something down and passing it back. Dustin nabbed the note from someone who seemed intent on hijacking it, turning to the back of the paper where Aimee had scribbled her reply - Thanks. Nice job on that trick question back there. You even read it? Dustin smiled - he was getting somewhere with this girl, which was definitely something in Bayview. Most girls knew better than to play with fire, and Dustin was a towering inferno to the majority of Bayview's females.
Aimee obviously wasn't one of them.
Dustin briefly jotted down a reply - Ha, only a bit. You seem to have read much more, though. Meet me after, talk me through? - and passed it to Note Hijacker, staring daggers at the boy so he didn't try and interfere this time. As the note reached Aimee's desk, the bell rang, interrupting Mr. Howard's high-faluting lecture. He turned and said something about assigned reading, but Dustin was already sweeping his books into his bag and standing up, swinging the bag over his shoulder in one swift motion. He gestured to Aimee with a little head nod to the door, and strolled outside, making sure to drop a cursory "thanks" to Mr. Howard as he walked out. It didn't hurt to at least make the teacher think you enjoyed their classes, Dustin knew that much. With that, he walked into the corridor, leaned up against a wall, and waited for the young, bookish lass he was subtly propositioning to make her exit.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Pigeon Army. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.