He glanced at his schedule, - Tutoring, Introduction to Philosophy, and sighed shaking his head. Some freshmen probably, who didn’t pay attention to a damned thing, and now he’d have to try and beat it into their heads. He flipped out his notes on the intro classes and set them on the desk, setting up a new document in his cheep-end, if somewhat abused laptop so he could set up notes on the parts they weren’t getting, though lord only knew that if it was anything like his last session it would be ‘all of it.’ He super needed a coffee, or an energy drink or… just something. He was too damned tired. At least this was his last scheduled tutoring for the day; he could get something to wake him up before he picked up a shift at his other job.
They were well into the semester: by this point, students were either sinking or swimming. This *particular* student wasn't some dumb freshman but instead looked in his mid twenties. Zac would maybe recognize him: he'd come to class once or twice, at most, and in the past he'd been there in expensive clothes, with perfect hair.Today was different. As he rolled into his tutoring section a good half an hour later, it looked like Beau was still in his pajamas, even down to the slippers. His hair was lank and loose around his face, and his eyes looked a little bit sunken, tired. His attention raked around the room instead of settling right onto Zac.
He did a double take at the Pajamas, his face a grim line as he looked down to find slippers to boot, and sighed. Not a freshmen, but clearly, lacking in any kind of give a damn. This was going to be ‘great’. He sighed, not even trying to hide the vague level of consternation. “… Intro to Philosophy tutoring?” He offered, so many were ‘unsure’ if they were in the right room, or had ‘lost’ the room number and so on, and so forth. He leaned back and rubbed at his eyes, at least he was less worried now that he probably looked like he hadn’t slept recently. Hell, he probably looked more like a freshman because of that. “Have a seat.” He waved to the chair across from him trying not to let the idea of ‘how nice pajamas’ would be just at the moment sink in enough to trigger a yawn.
A couple days since he shaved, too; he scratched at his jaw as he sad down opposite Zac and finally really looked at him. His voice went wry, maybe a bit mocking. "Who'd you piss off to land this?"
"... I get paid to do this, I didn't piss off anyone." He shook his head, making a small face at the idea that he'd pissed someone off. "So... what is it that isn't making sense in class?" He swapped directly to the more 'comfortable' subject of class work. Class work was much more structured than people, in so far as the information went at least. Presenting it so that the professors approved was sometimes the trick that had to be battled but that was all.
He blew a breath out through his nose and his attention wandered around the room again. Idly, Beau scratched at the inside of one wrist, where ink curled out from the hem of his shirt. "It's not that it doesn't make sense so much as it's really boring."
A small, croaking sound escaped the tired tutor. "....I... w... you're here to be tutored, because, it's boring?" He asked half strangled.
"I'm here to be tutored because they told me I had to have a tutor." He stretched his legs out into Zac's space, and hiked his shoulders up a little. And then he went assessing. "How much are they paying you?"
*he rubbed at the side of his nose* "In this moment? Not enough..." He quipped without checking himself, and then looked abashed to have said it at all. "I...mean..."
"I had a hunch." His eyes raked over Zac's clothes again, assessing, before rising back to his face. "I can probably pay better."
That earned not only a suspicious glance but a look down at his own clothing and back, wondering what kind of judgement he had just received. "To...do what, and besides you don't know how much they pay."
"Uh huh. To write all the papers and shit." He gestured, vaguely, still lounging where he was. "Put my name on them. Get this over with."
"no." The answer was curt. "That's...that's not the point of -being- here. It's... just no! Is this, is someone recording this? This is a joke, right?"
He looked around, as if maybe someone would come out -- but no one did. Instead he refocused on Zac. "I have a lot of money."
"T-that's not the point either!" He said flustered. "The point is to learn the... I mean why would you pay to not do a class you're going to have it on your record that you did?"
"It'll be on my record that I did it." He said it smoothly, gesturing at Zac. "That's the part that matters."
"No! No that isn't the point at all! You're supposed to learn, learning is the point!"
"This is a filler class to complete my degree." He dug a thumb into his eye like talking to Zac was painful. "The point is to have taken it."
"But they give you filler for a /reason/ It's to broaden your horizons, it... it's the whole principle of exploring things that...and besides the fact that I'd be fired, and that would go on my record and your record...and"
"I'm very good at broadening my own horizons." There was that dry tone again, teasing. "And only if you got caught."
"Noooo..." He said shaking his head slowly from side to side. "No, just...no, I will help tutor you but...just no..." Clearly the idea was somewhere along the same lines of palatability as suggesting that he superglue his nostrils shut or some equally ridiculous suggestion.
And the returned look was completely uncomprehending. "It'd probably be less work, though. Plus I'd pay you."
"It's not about less work, it's about learning it though, doing it, I mean you can't... I mean you can but you shouldn't take credit for something you didn't do! It's the responsibility of it... "
"So you think the point of this is to make everyone's life harder for the sake of some lesson learned." He made it sound -- dumb, the way he said it. Fighting back a yawn.
"Life isn't easy is a lesson you learn because life is harder sometimes." He sputtered. "W-why wouldn't you want to -learn- something? You might find something interesting, just because it seems boring now dosen't mean there isn;t anything of value."
"We're well into the semester. Really far into the semester. Catching up would be incredibly complicated." He shook his head. "It's a bit late."
"H...how far behind are you?" He said staring down at his 'should be a tutoring plan' like the blank page and blinking cursor might have better answers.
He shrugged the tiniest bit, licked his lips. "Well, I mean, I went to class twice, I think?"
Silence, Zac blinked twice, before slumping back in his chair. "twice." He repeated after a long pause.
A shrug in reply, unconcerned. "I had other things on my plate."
"Like W...." he started to ask, and instead buried his face in his hands. "... did you do any of the reading?"
"Definitely not.." He said it like Zac should have known better.
"So how do you know, its boring." He asked, though it was a bit muffled because all he'd done was peer between the fingers of his hands in exasperation.
"I went to two classes." He raised one eyebrow.
"Ohmygod..." He leaned forward till his head rested on the desk. "... Alright... so, ground zero, great."
"Like I said, it's probably too late. And it's too late to withdraw without a black spot." He rubbed at his eyebrow. "I had a plan, but things have been...difficult."
".... you can pass with... a C... I can probably, get you at least enough to get... god no your attendance is going to kill it anyhow. Why did they even... oh my god."
"I need at least a B." He tilted his head, though, and looked up, thinking. "But I might be able to talk up to a B from a C."
"You're going to have to talk to him about attendance too... but .. we can try and get you enough understanding that you can pass it next year if you have to."
"I'm not taking it again next year." There was disgust behind the very idea. After a moment, he leaned forward. "What was your name again?"
Leaning forward earned a leaning back from the 'tutor'. "Zac... " He said cautiously.
"Zac..." And he rolled a hand, a bit impatiently, glimpses of that tattoo poking out from beneath his sleeve as he did. "Just Zac? Like Cher?"
He glanced at the tattoo, always curious about them because of a few of his own. "... No, that's just... " He made a face and then said "Bantock."
"Zac." He leaned in a little as he spoke. "The thing is, if I fail this, it looks bad for both of us. Lose lose. But if I get a good grade, it looks great for you *and* for me, plus you make some money from it."
"Well, then I guess you're going to have to learn to enjoy -my- lesson plans." He said gripping the edge of his desk. "I'm not writing your papers!"
He blew out a slow sigh, and it was very much as if Zac was being unreasonable. "Do you know someone who would?"
"No! Why would I! The only people I've even heard of who tried that are...expelled."
"I definitely don't want to ask those people to do it, they're obviously terrible at their jobs." He huffed out a breath, cracking his fingers as he leaned back.
"It's not a... " He stopped and rubbed his face again. "Look, if someone is going to admit to doing what you're asking, they are probably just waiting to get caught, if you do the work..."
"There's no doing the work. There's just not enough time in the day." It was snappier this time, without that dull drag -- like, maybe, he wasn't just fucking around here. "I have five classes to catch up on."
"Did you -attend- any of them?" He snapped back. He wasn't exactly fucking around either, this was ridiculous. How had he even gotten this far?
"Here and there." There was that sharpness lingering around the edges; he tried to smooth the genuine frustration under a mask of indifference again, but couldn't quite get there. "I had it under control."
"Until you didn't... right?" He rubbed at his temples and sighed. "...Who do they have tutoring you on the other classes?"
"I'm meeting with you first." His jaw clenched and a muscle tightened along one side, his eyes skating away.
He rubbed his eyes. "What classes, Maybe I can ... it's not impossible."
"I doubt it. You don't seem like the econ or marketing type to me." It was still sharp-edged.
"Actually." He said through gritted teeth. "That's something of a family specialty. What I don't know... my mother would, It would be a learning experience for -both- of us."
"But you're not really willing to do it, so I don't see what the point of all this is." He dragged his eyes off of Zac and away, like he was searching for something else to help.
"I'm willing to help you learn it, I'm not willing to just... hand you a grade on a platter." He countered frustrated. "I don't have to drag a lesson out to fit a whole semester, I can treat it like the make up classes they do over break."
His jaw shifted again, annoyed -- frustrated. And one of his hands flicked in a quick series of gestures like sign language, or like a curse. Not that it did anything, aside from flash that tattoo again -- it looked a little irritated. "Great."
"Did you..." He started and scowled. "Did you just try and hex me!?" He demanded.
That, finally, made him blink -- and shut up for just a moment, eyes solidly on Zac, like he was considering. When he spoke, the lie was transparent. "Did I try to what you?"
"You DID... you son of a..." He inhaled a sharp breath gripping the desk, trying to feel out any magial shifts in the air before narrowing his eyes. "Well... that's just backing up my point. You could never make it work even if I did the work for you, you're a -shitty- liar."
There wasn't so much as a whisper of magic. In all honesty, there was almost an *uncanny* lack; most people had at least enough to stir the breeze. He just watched Zac, though, thinking it over. "What is it you think I did?"
"You didn't -do- anything it's what you tried." He said frowning at the utter lack of magic, thinking hard. "he didn't think he was wrong, not with as bad as that lie was. But... It wasn't like you could just go around saying all the things. "Well, whatever had you, less concerned about your classes before, it's not working now, and I'm offering you a way to make this work."
It wasn't that easy to shrug him off, though. He leaned in again a little, eyes on Zac's face -- searching for something. Except, of course, that there was nothing to see. Or nothing that someone mundane could see. He smoothed his fingertips together again. "You know. I could offer better things than money."
A sharp intake of breath at that offer and he looked away. "I am not... I am not some desperate back alley..." He said through gritted teeth.
Almost idly, he did the gesture again; a slow series of motions that were definitely some kind of magic, though maybe it wasn't a curse. It was more complicated than a curse, with a twist of the pinky at the end that was beckoning. "I was doing some private tutoring. More interesting than Intro to Economics."
That earned a more hungry look that was hastily turned away, and a hard swallow. "What -are- you trying to make happen?" He asked after a moment, not the question he really wanted to ask, that was clear, but it was something.
The tattoo around his wrist looked even angrier, now, like it was fresh. He leaned back a little, and couldn't help but smile, this time. "Trying to convince you to write my papers for me."
"I knew tha... oh." he said and scowled. "Don't... don't do that, especially if you thought I didn't have magic. It's... it's a shitty thing to do, taking away free will. People have gotten hurt... really hurt because people did that."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He stretched out his hand, digging a thumb into the center of his palm like it ached.
"Course not." he mumbled, leaning back. He rubbed at his own upper arm absently, thoughtful. "... If I... If I offered to -help- you write the papers, and tutor you." He winced at the offered compromise all the same. "Would you introduce me to your other...teacher."
"Not a chance in hell." His smile widened, suddenly, amused. "But I could teach you."
A strange sort of half smothered sound came from the tutor, his jaw setting. "Why the hell no... " ANd then he stopped, blinking. "Everything?" He asked arching an eyebrow.
"I doubt I could teach you everything." He rubbed at his wrist, too, slowly. And his smile faded a bit. "You don't seem that talented."
"Why, you..." He sputtered. "You haven't even..." He glanced away. "You could -try-
"I could try." It was completely unapologetic, though.
"Well, I hope you're better at that, than your other studies, you don't seem that tallented at applying yourself." It was a terrible attempt at a barbed comment.
"I'm incredibly talented." It was confident, with his head cocked to the side. "Exceptional in my generation."
"And how much do you normally pay people to say that? Or do you normally just..." He made a mockery of casting a spell, exaggerated movements.
His eyes flicked down to Zac's hand, watching -- and then he made a little sound and repeated the gesture, but slower. With corrections. Of course it didn't do anything, but it looked good.
Zac rolled his eyes. "I wasn't trying to.... uuugh." He repeated he gestures, pausing between each one to make sure he didn't accidentally cast a spell he wasn't sure of, and a pointed look as well.
"Without the pauses." He stretched out his legs, leaning back a bit.
"I... and if I convince you to write my papers for me?" He shook his head sighing. "Fine." He said sharply and did as requested. There was a stiffness that was in his hands that eased as he did the whole of it together, repetition perhaps.
It did absolutely nothing, and that made him grin all of a sudden, bright and mocking. "Doesn't work on me. But that's close."
"Why not?" he blinked. "And what did I do wrong? That's what they show in the..." He stopped himself
"It's art, but you're acting like it's science." He did the motion again easily -- it was fluid, familiar, expert. He shrugged. "You'll have to haul in someone else to practice on, though."
"Great... maybe I can use it to get some people to study." He mumbled.
"You probably could. Just not me. I'm...warded." It was a carefully chosen word. He shrugged a little, crookedly.
He glanced at the tattoo bad back, arching his eyebrows. "... not that I think anything as simple as that could convince you to study anyhow." He murmured.
"When you're exceptionally talented, there's not much point." It was dry again, but his eyes had gone hard behind the smile.
"Until now..." He said crinkling his nose. "...I hate that you're right in a way... I'm just putting that out there. But I will still try and help you."
"It's a hiccup. Once it's sorted out, I'll be back in business." He breathed out, flexing his hand while he thought it over. "Including the econ and marketing?"
"I... Including the Econ and Marketing, conditionally, that you at least -try- and teach me everything."
"Sure. And you'll write some papers." He tilted his head while he thought it over. "I can teach you some tricks to help with that."
"Help...I said I'd help write some papers. You should still try," He pointed out. "Besides, it will sound more ...authentic if you Help."
"I will help." He stood, all at once, stretching in his pajamas and scratching at his jaw. "I'll teach you some tricks."
"That's not the..." He made a dissatisfied sound. "You should contribute words... saying you'll teach me some tricks is like me offering to teach you to... to... do some improvised nonsense that you probably have a more complicated but effective way to do."
He cocked his head a little bit. "I'll teach you to write papers exactly the way I used to write papers."
"Did that involve knowing the subjects you're writing about?"
"It involved a page of notes on the subject, and five to ten papers I've written previously. On anything." He shrugged, but he seemed more upbeat, now.
"I'm guessing they weren't your notes." He said tippng his head to one side, then added after a moment. "But, that's...clever all the same"
He shrugged, shifting where he stood. "When? We probably shouldn't do it in public."
He hesitated, rubbing at his eyes again. "I um... I work tonight... we can exchange contact information, or um... I think I have tomorrow off if no one calls out sick."
"Do you have a roommate?" It was a little impatient, gesturing.
"n...no.... but I'm still, working."
"I didn't ask if you were still working." He stretched his shoulders. "I'll come by at this time tomorrow. Where do you live?"
"Ah... " He said hesitating. "Little... apartment off campus, this old lady rents out a thing over her garage."
"And does it have an address or do I go knocking on every door?" It came with a genuine roll of his eyes.
"... knocking." He said scowling but followed up with an address.
"Uh huh." Just a beat, and then he fished out his phone to take a note. "I'll bring coffee."
He almost protested that, but free coffee was free-ish coffee. “Fine, see you then.”
He saluted a little and slid out, still pajamad and slouchy but -- maybe he seemed just a bit more optimistic.
"... my mother is going to loose her mind." He said softly to the empty room, because somehow she always knew... though honestly he didn't want her to. He sighed again heavily and let his head fall forward to rest on the desk. No surprise perhaps that he slept through his normal alarms the next day, and found himself rushing to try and clean his apartment, preparing for the inevitable judgement of thin, office grade carpeting and constantly stuffy living quarters.
There was a hundred percent chance he'd complain about that, yes; showing up about twenty minutes late with fancy coffee. At least he was dressed today, in low slung pants and a paper thin shirt with a scarf over it, even if he was still unshaven and out of sorts. He knocked and waited, leaning against the doorframe.
There was a general, if painful sounding thump from inside, a curse, a few softer thumps as things were stuffed into a closet, and -then- the door was answered, a slightly flushed, disheveled Zac, who still looked like sleep wasn't high on his list of priorities. He wasn't about to complain about late, not today... "...come on in." He said standing aside.
"If I must." It was dry, disapproving, looking around the place as he stepped in -- and shoved the cups of coffee toward Zac.
"If you have a better idea for next time I'm open to suggestions." He said through gritted teeth, fumbling for the cups and taking them with, blessedly no spillage onto his hands.
"My place is off limits." He grimaced, though, his head tipped to one side.
"Well we can't all afford places that shouldn't be contaminated by the likes of me." He mumbled, kicking the door shut. "The seats are clean, they won't stain your clothes."
He looked down at the chair,too, like maybe he didn't entirely believe it.
"Would you like to bring your own -seat next time?" he might be a little exhasperated
"I might just, at that." He'd pick a wooden chair, to perch on the edge of it -- legs stretched out and the hem of his shirt riding up just a bit.
He set the drinks down on a table and rubbed his temples, though he somehow still managed to almost miss. "Right... " He sighed and sat down on the closest chair, and probably on top of a book, which was removed as an after thought. "... right... so I uh...I made a lesson plan last night, for your .... classes."
He swung a bag off of his shoulder to drop it at his feet -- and then looked down like he regretted it. It was touching that carpet. He sighed. "Sure."
"it's...clean, I steam cleaned it... it's just cheep." He sighed.
"You can't clean cheap things that well." He shrugged and bent to fish out a binder.
"Ok... short of wrapping yourself in plastic wrap as a protective shield... unless you have a better idea of where to meet, this is... this is where I live, so... " He trailed off. "Laptop...damn, one moment."
"Uh huh." He opened the notebook across his knees and raised his eyebrows at Zac.
He returned with the laptop, scowling a little and opened it. "Alright... so... starting with the elective... and then you can teach me something, and then we move to the next subject... alright?"
"Uh huh. We should probably start with remote writing." He cracked open the book in search of a particular page.
"...why that in particular?" He asked cautiously, eyeing the coffee. ---'PrrrrmMau?' said something else, before a leggy white cat launched for the table top, threatening to spill everything on it.
"Because --" he looked to the cat, dismissively, and then back -- "Because how are you going to write papers, otherwise?"
A small sigh. "Of course, fine." he caught a coffee before it tipped over, the cat in turn stepped onto the lap top and sat down.
His attention flicked up around the place again, thoughtfully. "Just how much training do you actually have."
"I, it's, a mixed bag. I don't have the luxury of devoting myself to it, not the way I'd like." He admitted. It was at least half excuse and he knew it.
"And how much talent do you have?" He shrugged again, with a flash of attention onto the cat.
"That seems to depend on who you ask." He said, a brief glance at the cat, and then hastily away.
"... You're probably right, It's probably...not much."
He made just a small sound while he thought it over. "Well, let's see what you can do. Give me an idea."
He hesitated, picked up the cat, who turned into a cat pancake the second hands were laid on it, draped it over his shoulders and distractedly told it to 'stay', the cat looked melted. He then some simple gestures, and made made a quick flick of his fingers at a coffee mug that had about 3/4 of a handle. a fine line appeared and it then slid into two pieces.
brb dog walk
"Not terrible." He tilted his head, though, thinking it over a bit. "Basic. Physical."
"It's very useful when cooking..." He shrugged. "Since, the knives I can afford are kinda shit."
"Can you dice vegetables too?" He did a similar little movement, except -- ratcheted up. It was like what Zac had done but twenty times as complicated, and the amount of focus it would take was definitely outside of the talents of most people.
"Well yes... but..." He stammered watching the hand movements like he was trying to divine the secrets of the universe. ... not... like...that?" He said hesitating. "o...one sec." He got up and fetched a carrot from the fridge.
The way he threw it around was so careless it was -- well, it was entitled. And if it worked, it'd be impressive. But it didn't. He couldn't have made a sheet of paper move. So he sat and just watched Zac, skeptical.
"Shit... I think I didn't get..." he made a small distressed sound trying to remember the moves and then tried. He still lacked the -flow- that someone more entitled had, still science over art.
"Terrible." It was unapologetically judgmental. "We'll have to work with little charms, then."
"I could try again!' He protested. "Working from one viewing of...of a more complex hand motion than I've... rrgh... I'll keep practicing that."
"I could try and write it down, but..." He hesitated a little bit, his mouth twitching downward. "Do you even know how to read it?"
"Yes! I...think... Probably!" He was now doubting the quality of the spells his mother was so proud of, and slumped in his chair. "Fuck..."He swore. "She said, I thought...god damnit. I'll make it work." ... he flicked a glance at the coffees... the cat flicked it's tail into his eye and he swore again.
With a little shrug, he tore a page out of the notebook and, with a sigh, started making notes. "I'll teach you magic shorthand, too."
"Great..." He said quietly..."I can teach you ...non..magical short hand." He swatted at the cat's tail. "Mogget I swear to god..."
"I don't need non-magical short hand. All I want is these classes done so I can move on with my life." It was sharp, without looking up.
A tight sigh. "I was being sarcastic...are you ready to start your first lesson?"
He looked up again, then, an eyebrow raised. "Teaching? Learning?"
"...yyyes... I said I'd help you..." He blinked. "You're not going to take anything but having me do the actual...learning, are you."
"You don't need to learn anything other than the spells. I have notes from every class I missed." He flipped idly through the notebook.
He sighed looking like he wanted to argue, but... “fine.” He said tersely
"I have good notes, even. Though not as good as if I could have just taken down everything the professor said..." And he blew out a sigh, at that. "There's too much shorthand to teach you. I'll get you a book."
"Like a full on transcription spell?" He asked curious. He was a bit surprised that that wasn't something that had been done if he were to be honest.
"More like you take a nap holding your pen and make the pen move..." He shook his head. "Putting the words straight to paper would be too much."
"I mean in this case yes, but...well,mmm...yeah you'd probably end up with some wierd blackmail situation."
"You could set the pen going without your hand next to it, but..." He hesitated, floundering. "It's a matter of using ink to write something, versus making ink out of thin air. If I could just make ink out of...you do have *some* training, right?"
"Yes! Of course... but I also don't get to talk magic theory... like...ever." HE said shaking his head. "And... it's...fine you probably don't want to because it's a given for you."
He dug a thumb into the corner of his eye as he leaned back. "...I could get in trouble for this as it is." Not that it really seemed to bother him, but he thought it over. "It's fine. You can make do without the theory for now."
"Yes well, some people also won't like the idea that I'm helping you, so ... not that it's probably the same but, just, know I'm taking a risk too."
He shrugged the tiniest bit, leaning forward to offer Zac a page of -- well, gibberish little drawings, it seemed. "This won't make sense to you now. I have to get you the shorthand book."
He leaned over, frowning at it, trying to pick up anything that might seem familiar in what he was seeing there and then leaned back and sighed dissatisfied that apparently he could not. The cat, tried to eat a corner of the page
Beau reached out to swat the cat back a couple steps, idly. Unconcerned. He wasn't afraid of it, for sure. "I can run you through this one slowly, but it'll probably take a few hours for you to get the idea and longer to get a feel for it."
the cat batted at his fingers without claws, going for a moment cross eyed before sitting down and ignoring them both. "I'll get it." He said determined. "
"It took me longer than a couple hours and I *definitely* have more talent than you do." It wasn't insulting, or at least, it wasn't mean. It was just true. So he said it. "Don't be too embarrassed. We all have our limitations."
"Maybe, but some limits are made to be stretched..." He said crinkling his nose. "Maybe I don't have raw talent but, I'm at least a practiced student." he shrugged
"You should be very proud." He started through the gestures, then: quickly once, to show how they flowed together, and then a second time more slowly.
"Because I'm not talented or because I'm too stubborn to stop?" He countered, shaking out his hands and then mimicking to the best of his abilities. At least he knew a good number of the motions from other hings, but a few were new combinations.
It was complicated, and the way Beau blew through it -- well, he *should* have been able to do something. At least the pen should have started twitching. But there wasn't even a whisper.
He made a dissatisfied sound at the lack of even a twitch, and started over again, trying to improve his 'flow', he might not like that feedback, but if it worked....
It'd twitch for Zac, anyway. It'd even jerk around a little. Maybe it'd find its way to the page. But it would take more tries to figure out how to make all the motions of the spell fit together.
He rubbed at his knuckles a bit between the motions, looking thoughtful. "... they blocked you from any magic?" He said after a moment. "Is it that tattoo?"
It was angry again; red around the edges and sore. Talking about it made it hurt, apparently, because Beau grimaced and pulled his sleeve up over it again. "It's a tattoo."
“I... have some balm...”
"It's fine." He huffed out a breath, stretching his fingers and leaning back. "Do you need me to keep demonstrating, or can you work at it?"
"No...I can work at it." He said glancing away.
"Sure. And I can bring you a book to explain the shorthand." He leaned back a little, frowninng and rubbing at the inside of his palm.
"I appreciate that... when...is your next paper due?"
"Tuesday." He grimaced as he said it, looking up instead of at Zac.
"Then I have a deadline." He said with a nod, looking not the least daunted.
"Yes." A grimace, then, full on -- and he stood up, grabbing his coffee.
"I'll make it work." He said firmly. "Don't worry about my end."
"Right." He hesitated a moment, then picked up the notebook to riflethrough it, idly. "I can leave this for you. It's got the notes. And about eight of my essays."
"Great.... you can, find me through the tutoring office, they know my work schedule if nothing else."
"Yeah." He half tossed the notebook out in front of Zac, considering him with his head cocked to the side. "Or you could give me your number."
"I..." There was a start of a protest. "I can't answer when I'm at work. That's all, and... it... mmm..." He exhaled. "Will a land line do?"
He watched Zac flounder for a long moment, head tipped to the side and expression black, before he spoke. "....I don't *call*. I'd text."
"Great..." He said "... fine, okay..." He reached a hand out. "I'll put my number in."
With a heavy sigh, he dug out his own phone, turning it over between his fingers -- and didn't pass it off. Probably because it was a brand new, top of the line iphone. "Just read it out. You might hurt it."
"If you're so damned talented why the heck would your phone behave any better than mine does!" He snapped before making a small growling sound and rattling off a string of digits that were likely his phone number.
He plugged it in idly, without answering -- but with a pinched tightness around his mouth as he did. Once it was in, he looked up. "I wouldn't turn yours on after practicing this, either."
A scowl in return. “No shit.” He said through clenched teeth.
He shrugged just that tiny bit, tucking his own phone into his back pocket and holding the notebook out toward Zac in offering.
He hesitated a moment and then reached out and took the notebook
"If you get anywhere. Just try not to destroy any of it, since these are all hand written." He shrugged and swiped his hand on his legs as he started for the door.
“Books and I tend to get along better than phones or computers, hand written or otherwise”
The word books still made him grimace, waving over his shoulder on the way out. "I'll still text you."
“I look forward to the adventure” he sighed. He had some serious studying to do, and maybe he could look quietly into the curse too .