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Post by gil on Nov 21, 2008 21:40:31 GMT -5
The corner of a comic book peeked out at him from inside a textbook; the boot of The Flash sticking out from the even pages of a new textbook, as though the book would pick itself up and flee the classroom.
"And doors wouldn't be a problem at all; it would just vibrate through," mused Joss out loud, before glancing about the classroom, pleased that there was no one there to question what he was saying. Guiltily, he pushed his comic more into the book, so it was completely hidden. He really shouldn't have been reading comics on the job; his boss would not be too pleased were that the case.
He would like to claim that he wasn't the average comic book geek, that he had a social life and successes and the like, but...a small grin toyed at his lips. He was a guy who spent Saturday nights eating ice cream out of the carton and watching made-for-TV movies with his dog. His love-life was non-existent, unless you counted an ex-boyfriend breaking into his apartment in what boiled down to a very forceful booty call.
It didn't help that he'd failed in his chosen career, either. Though he'd wound up with a rather good job here, he knew that he preferred writing. He couldn't support himself on it, though, and masculine pride made him hate leaning too heavily on his sister or parents for rent money.
Not being able to get a job, he mused. A nice way of telling you that you suck at writing.
It had been his own little joke for a while now, that some deity was trying to communicate a dislike for his literary style. Fingers reached out and grabbed a pen off the desk, clicking it repeatedly as he rocked back and forth in chair, causing it to make small squeaking complaints.
This was going to be his first time...teaching. It was so strange, being the one sitting at the large desk and staring out at rows and rows of desks and empty chairs. He was going to have to deal with kids, little people with complex emotions and issues. Being younger, he'd always wondered how teachers could do it. Kids throwing up or being assholes or not ever doing homework or breaking down crying or coming to them for support...
It made him sick. Not disgusted-sick, nervous-sick, pain deep in his belly. Not even hungry-sick, tough he'd chosen to forgo breakfast.
Not coffee, though. His Starbucks mug still rested proudly on his desk. From this distance, he would read 'The Way I See It', but none of the deep, meaningful quotation beneath the title. Squinting, he could trace the shape of the word 'childhood', and frowned briefly. It was a Starbucks cup he'd already read; always a disappointment. It said something about cake breath.
Hearing footsteps in the hallway, dark eyes swiveled expectantly to the door, only to find that it was other teachers walking through the hallway. Turning back, he noticed a plotline for a story that he'd been writing, lying on his desk. Writing, always his distraction, always his crutch. He leaned over the desk, beginning to write in his usual scrawl where he'd left off, dark hair falling forward as a look of concentration entered his face. This would be sufficient while he waited.
ooc;; Since it seems that some people actually did like Joss...
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Anna
Senior Member
the guilty one.
Posts: 412
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Post by Anna on Nov 23, 2008 14:49:27 GMT -5
ooc. I came up with kind of an idea for why Seb would come talk to him. Let me know if you disapprove of it. I'm just making up the fact that they had summer homework.
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Sebastien Lenoire didn't understand why all English classes were determined to ruin a good piece of literature by assigning an essay to go with it. Didn't they understand that by forcing a student to beat a book to death and squeeze an eight page paper out of it would totally negate the experience of reading and enjoying a book?
And over the summer? Yeah, Seb didn't think so.
He would just have to have a word with this new English teacher and explain kindly and politely to him that writing a paper on the various foils in Dicken's Great Expectations wasn't exactly his thing. Not his cup of coffee, not his brand of heroin. Whatever phrase you wanted to wrap around it, Sebastien didn't write the damn paper.
But he still expected to recieve marks. Why? Because that's how things worked for Sebastien Lenoire. He didn't do shit -- didn't study, didn't all his works, didn't care -- but everything still worked out for him.
This wasn't going to change because of Great Fucking Expectations. Sebastien was used to dealing with adults. Used to dazzling them with charm and politeness, and by generally being a 'good young man'.
It always worked on all the old farts at Eddingborough.
When he pushed into the English classroom, twenty minutes early, he was surprised to see the teacher sitting behind the desk wasn't an old stuffy professor. He was young, handsome, new.
Oh, interesting.
Sebastien put on his polite meet-and-greet smile, and walked up to the desk. He wasn't sure how much he'd have to change his smoozing tactics to deal with this new teacher; he hoped his charm would be timeless.
"Hello, Mr. Grayson," he said, referring to the name he'd glanced at on his schedule before he'd entered the room. "My name is Sebastien Lenoire, I'm in your next period English Literature class, and I have a few things I need to talk to you about, in reference to our summer essay assignment."
He set the thick novel and the blank assignment down on the desk, and folded his hands over them.
"I decided not to write it," he said smoothly, offering another charming smile that, along with the velvety sound of his voice, would negate the bratty words he spoke. "I found the book to be super-indulgent and a waste of time, centered around a pathetic protagonist who didn't do anything worth speaking of. And so, you see, it is understandable that I should not waste my time penning an analysis on it."
He cocked his head to the side, catching the teacher's eye, and raising his eyebrows. "Are you with me?"
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Post by gil on Nov 23, 2008 19:46:43 GMT -5
ooc: Nah, this is great. ^^
When the door opened, Joss' head lifted and he set aside his writings. It was weird to think that this was his student walking in (well, presumably, otherwise they were quite lost). He'd never had students before, he hadn't even been a student teacher. He gave a friendly smile in response, eyes soft and quite willing, waiting and allowing the boy to speak.
A polite smile, formal speaking that by its nature revealed that there were other intentions behind this. No kid came in speaking like this, unless they were putting drugs in the water here or whatever (and he, having consumed the water here, could attest that he noticed no negative side-effects or strange speech). He was trying to manipulate him into something. He supposed he'd have to get used to being underestimated, seeing that he appeared so young. He was definitely distinguishable from high school students, but he still looked like a college student, like an inexperienced teacher who was still wet around the ears.
it was part of why he'd deliberately dressed formally, tucking casual clothes into the back of his closet. Though he tried to pretend that it wasn't so, he was very sensitive to the way people were perceiving him, wanting to be taken seriously by his coworkers and by the ones he was responsible for, and also to prevent himself from relating too much to the teenagers.
As Sebastien spoke, it was quite easy to identify what he wanted. The teenager was quite frank about not doing the assignment and not having the intention to. Mr. Grayson leaned back in his chair, calmly listening to what the boy said, with a patient smile on his face. This wasn't the most distressing thing that could happen; actually, it was quite funny. The boy was obviously used to winning over teachers with this kind of announcement. Amused, he listened to the boy's speech in silence, allowing him to rant and rave until he was definitely done.
When Joss spoke, it was careful and quite cheerful, despite his student announcing that he didn't intend to write the assignment. "Nice to meet you, Sebastien," He replied casually. Despite being a teacher, he still had a (bad) tendency to relate to students more than other teachers, to be casual and relaxed while speaking to kids. It was likely going to get him in trouble one of these days. He supposed some of it stemmed from having a sister the age of most of his students; it was hard not to treat them like friends or like siblings. "Well, then," He replied, dark eyes looking up at the young man, perfectly relaxed, "Are you interested in an alternate assignment, or a different book?"
He was certain that the boy wasn't interested in either, and was looking for a way out of the assignment. Joss disliked the rigidness that some teachers had (and remembered quite well; he'd only been out of high school for eight years), and we perfectly happy to allow students to step outside rubrics and the like. However, he did expect an assignment.
"Who else's side would I be on?" He questioned in a pleasant voice, a smile passing over his face.
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Anna
Senior Member
the guilty one.
Posts: 412
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Post by Anna on Nov 27, 2008 14:25:06 GMT -5
Usually Sebastien had to work to get an alternate assignment after one of his wordy rants. He had walked into the classroom, ready to battle for the right to write a literary critism, rather than the damn foil essay, but now, the option was offered to him so easily that he didn't want it anymore. He had been ready to charm the pants off of the teacher, to fight for what he wanted, and now? There was no challenge to it. How boring. And now? He had just wasted an entire speech where it was unneeded.
Mr. Grayson was going to let him do an altnernate assignment? Without him even asking? Sebastien was insulted. This was not how things were supposed to go.
Sebastien changed his mind, then. Literary critism? Screw it. How fun was doing something when it was allowed?
"No, no," he said, pulling up a chair, and sitting in it backwards so his arms looped casually over the back of it. "When I said 'are you with me,' I meant, are you following."
He scooted the chair closer to the man's desk, and leaned his elbow on the chairback, resting his chin on his palm. "It really is refreshing to see a teacher with such .. avant-garde teaching methods, sir. Eddingborough is lucky to have you."
That was step one, flattery. He didn't lay it on thick -- his voice was casual, light, complimentary. No way would Sebastien be caught sucking up. Besides, he meant what he said. Maybe he'd grow to like this teacher, but first, he'd have to win him over on his own terms.
"And while I appreciate you being so accommodating," he continued, "I am not interested in either of those options. You see, I read the book. I understood the book. I could debate with you about the book for hours. But I am also a firm believer that by limiting interpretation of the book to the confines of an essay would very much take away from the entire experience."
He paused to consider how to wrap up his argument. He wasn't necessarily being original. "Mr. Grayson, you understand, don't you? How terribly stifling things like grades are? How can you gauge someone's knowledge and ability to think by a paper? By the grading system? Don't you think life would be much better without them?"
And time to bring the point home. He feigned a small look of sudden embarrassment, as though he had allowed himself to think without thinking. He ducked his head and said, "I apologize, sir, if I have spoken too bluntly. I suppose I just saw you to be a man who would be open minded enough to see, and maybe even share, my point of view. I'm sorry if I judged you incorrectly."
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Post by gil on Dec 2, 2008 15:44:33 GMT -5
Joss only seemed to become more amused, leaning back in his chair while still regarding Seb. He wasn't fooled in the slightest, of course, but the attempts to exploit him were, at the very least, funny. So Sebastien was smart enough to figure out what teachers wanted to see and hear, and wanted to play off of that for his own purposes. He could well recall people trying to butter up teachers he'd had in the past, although he hadn't expected to personally be on the receiving side so soon, nor for whatever student that was trying to manipulate him to have such a professional air about him. How often, exactly, did he do this? Knowing his coworkers, they fell for it hard and often.
"Pessimum genus inimicorum laudantes," The young teacher replied. It wasn't intended as an insult, simply a statement of fact. That, that is, if Seb understood at all. Was Latin offered at Eddingborough? He'd have to check at some point. Really, he should know by now at least the courses that were offered. "How often, exactly, do you do this to your teachers?" He questioned mildly. "Do they all fall for this?" It was a strange tone for a teacher, seeming more like a student enjoying a peer's attempt to fool a teacher. One hand stretched out, seizing his coffee mug and setting it down just as bad, disappointingly light. He would fill that up...eventually.
"It's tempting to give you credit just for the attempt, since it was so creative," He mused. Really, someone needed to reward this kid for being so...perceptive. He was trying to find Joss' weaknesses in order to use them to his advantage, even taking a gamble on trying to exploit his youth as a possible vulnerability. The irony was that this kid--who as so good at looking in depth that he could use it to get out of require assignments--was trying to get out of doing this particular assignment, which was, by an large, centered on inferences and perception.
Joss got the feeling that Seb was the kind of student who could do it well enough, but didn't want to. Maybe it was legitimately boring, or maybe the kid just liked seeing teachers bend over to accommodate him, thanks to his efforts. It really did have to be fun to watch. Part of him wanted to see Sebastien work this charm on some of the pricks he had to deal with every day--he had yet to actually earn their respect (despite trying quite hard), whereas his student had it down to an art form. The teachers in this school, for the most part, were old assholes, or sketchy pedos that looked at the kids...there was on teacher he always got a weird vibe off of, a guy he wouldn't leave his little sister alone with.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy this would be hard for," Joss replied, eyes searching Seb's face for some reaction, something that would tell him if his current observations were correct as he thought. I can understand not wanting to write an essay, but you should be doing something. I'm willing to believe you understand it, so why not do it?" The teacher relaxed back in his chair, eyeballing the blonde teen. "So, you still have to do an assignment," he replied, "But I'm happy to take input on what exactly you're looking to do, so it's not so, ah, 'limiting'." It seemed fair, to Joss, despite his inexperience. He'd give any assignment the boy did the same value as the essay, and just grade as he saw fit. In a way, Seb's attempt to manipulate him was beneficial; if nothing else, he'd certainly gained respect. For the first student he'd met, Seb was likely the best choice. In fact, he downright liked this kid.
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Anna
Senior Member
the guilty one.
Posts: 412
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Post by Anna on Dec 2, 2008 23:10:14 GMT -5
Sebastien couldn't be bothered with Latin. He figured that anyone using a foreign language was either trying to sound smarter than they were, trying to be obnoxious, or simply insulting the person they were addressing. With his teacher, he figured it was the former. After all, Mr. Grayson was the youngest teacher he'd seen at Eddingborough in all his three years, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the man had a serious inferiority complex. Nothing like sprouting off a bit of Latin to make you feel on par with all those old fart professors.
Grayson was tempted to give him credit for his efforts? Oh, that phrase was too beautiful crafted for Sebastien not to comment on. "Tempted?" he echoed, now leaning forward on his backward chair, so it balanced on two legs. "Mr. Grayson, with all due respect, if you're tempted, then .. give in to temptation. Reward creativity for once. Don't abandon all your ideals and beliefs just because they handed you a teaching license and a job post at a stuffy private school!"
Sebastien was going out on a limb with that one -- he only knew so much about his new teacher, and had only drawn this conclusion from his limited knowledge. Grayson was young, obviously capable of putting up with his antics, and apparently seriously considering his argument. That told him one thing; he wasn't on the same page as the other professors.
It must be hard, he mused, to want to be respected by the faculty, but at the same time, be worried of turning into one of them. He took this observation, and tucked it at the back of his mind to use later.
Later? Yes, there would be a later. As a whole, Mr. Grayson drew him in, if only for the challenge. There was nothing Sebastien liked more than a challenege, and there be nothing more rewarding than watching his teacher unravel under the pressure -- so young, inexperienced, and eager to fit the mold of Mr. Teacher Sir. It would be glorious.
Who knew Eddingborough was full of little games like this, perfectly fit to tickle Sebastien Lenoire's fancy?
"Still stuck on that alternative assignment?" he said, raising his eyebrows. But Sebastien wasn't going to stop playing. If Grayson wanted to play Mr. Understanding Teacher, he would play his counterpart. He would play to the extreme.
"All right then, Mr. Grayson. How about an interpretive dance?"
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Post by gil on Dec 3, 2008 21:32:21 GMT -5
Joss smiled at the boy's self-righteous rant. It just sounded so pompous, so self-important. Did he normally talk like this, or was he just privileged? Maybe, he reflected, the boy had already been locked into this kind of speech when he came in. It was all so clever, really. And Sebastien really did make good points, especially for a teenaged boy (the most of whom, in Joss' experience, having been one and all, were distracted by other things. Sadly, defending a point was rarely arousing). Joss pondered them not out of weak-mindedness, but a genuine interest in the boy's points and ability to make a point. "How can you be so certain that I'm, ah...'abandoning my ideals'? Temptation is something that sounds appealing before it's gone through mental censors, before you decide if it makes sense or not. And, personally, I'd prefer it if you'd express the creativity through something like..an essay." After a brief moment, he added, "Or some alternative assignment."
He was certain that, by now, Seb was well aware that he was different from other teachers in more than just appearance. Seb, being rather conniving from what Joss had seen, was probably already plotting against that, although he couldn't imagine what the boy was thinking. He was just so clever. Joss almost wanted to see what he'd come up with to use against him. That was, of course, assuming that the boy could do more than simply worm his way out of assignments, that it was personality and not just learned behavior. It was his suspicion, at least. Joss tended to be a good judge of character, and he believed that Seb was, really and genuinely, smart enough for this to simply be a part of who he was.
Joss was completely and totally fascinated by him.
At hearing the boy's suggestion, he couldn't help but give a startled laugh, a genuine grin on his face. "You know, I must say, you did strike me as the type." It was tempting--there it was again, Seb's favorite word--to invite him to perform an interpretive dance in front of the class. "Can you make your interpretive dance fit Charles Dickens? Because I would really, really like to see that."
ooc;; BLARGH LARGH LARGH SHORT POST IS BAD. :< ;;ooc
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Anna
Senior Member
the guilty one.
Posts: 412
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Post by Anna on Dec 3, 2008 21:57:44 GMT -5
Mr. Joss Grayson was a worthy opponent. Of course he would accept Sebastien's ridiculous offer, of course he would assume that the boy wouldn't actually go through with it. Sebastien had been banking on rejection, but now that Mr. Grayson -- oh, that sneaky bastard -- had whole heartedly supported his proposition, he had no choice but to continue. He couldn't back down. He had extended a challenge, his teacher had met it impressively, and now, he had to follow through.
Oh, he would make Mr. Grayson regret humoring him like this. If he wanted an interpretive dance, he would get that and then some. Seb was all about giving people more than what they bargained for. After he was done with his fresh-faced teacher, any hope that the man would continue his avant garde teaching methods was slim. Seb would make sure of that.
Still though, he hadn't expected his teacher to rise to the occasion. Kudos for him, then. Maybe they weren't all hopeless at Eddingborough.
He allowed a polite smile to tease his features. "Thank you," he said, with a slight nod. "I think I will go forward with that assignment, then. Although, I must warn you, I will be taking it very seriously. Interpretive dance, after all, is the elemental, eternal form of human expression. I believe it has to be .. organic."
Another pause, another heavy look, as though daring Mr. Grayson to back down.
"So," he said casually, landing his chair back on all fours, "if there is nudity, I promise it will be artistic, and not recreational in nature."
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Post by gil on Dec 3, 2008 22:21:20 GMT -5
It was funny that Sebastien was looking at this as a challenge, whereas Mr. Grayson wasn't really fighting at all. What kind of opponent wasn't even aware that they were doing battle? Maybe he'd get it later on, but, at this point, he was merely enjoying his new student, who happened to be ridiculously amusing. He hadn't been too serious about the boy doing an interpretive dance--much as he WANTED him to, he had been quite certain that Sebastien was just kidding. But, if the boy really wanted to do an interpretive dance--there was no way in hell that Joss was going to stop him.
His amusement showed clearly on his face, enjoying this little banter--all that it was to Grayson, really. He still seemed so casual about the whole thing, returning Sebastien's challenging stare with nothing more than an amiable smile, like this was just some average discussion about interpretive dance. My favorite subject for small-talk. He listened patiently as the boy went on about the merits of interpretive dance, vaguely wondering is Sebastient actually studied interpretive dance. Arguing and dancing. An interesting combination of pastimes. If only he could do both at the same time.
At the discussion of nudity, Grayson merely glanced down with a small grin, not at all thrown off. He couldn't help but recall one very drunk party in college, in which a guy he'd hooked up with found Tinker Bell wings and a tiny tutu meant to be worn with leggings by a female. This guy--what was his name? Mike? Sean? He couldn't remember--decided to put them on, walking around the party with his schlong hanging out. And that was exactly how Joss was envisioning nude interpretive dance to be.
"Well," He replied, as though merely discussing the requirements of a project, like there was a rubric or something. "Well, I suppose you'd have to ask the administration for permission, but since the art department paints nudes, it's only fair that your interpretive dance can go to the same extremes. But, again, how exactly would nude interpretive dance relate to Great Expectations?"
God, this would be the worst excuse for inappropriate teacher/student relations, ever. "He was doing naked interpretive dance, I swear! It wasn't my fault!
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Post by marriedinthesunx on Dec 3, 2008 23:04:57 GMT -5
Oh, there was simply no doubt about it. Haley Badger was doing his very best to miss his English class. In his mind there was no class quite as mind-numbing, or brain washing as the one he should have been currently approaching. He had taken a firm liking to the library these past couple of days. The librarian had become his personal connection in the school and whenever he approached her desk, she would always reward him with a sweet or two. Why Mrs. Gable took such interest in him, he hadn’t the slightest idea, but making friends with her was probably one of his better moves within Eddingborough.
So here he was, leaning shamelessly over the middle aged woman’s desk, chewing obnoxiously on a piece of caramel, lean fingers twisting a wrapper in a particularly noisy manner. But he didn’t seem to take notice of his disruptiveness and neither did she. Currently she was complaining about how the students had no respect for hard work. In which Haley politely replied with, ‘It’s a damn shame,” and continued to stare lifelessly at the computer screen. To be more precise, those dark hazel eyes were locked on the time, watching as it drifted by. He had been here for a good ten minutes and if he could make it five more, then there was absolutely no possibility of him making it to class on time.”Mr. Badger, you have somewhere to be,” the librarian spoke up finally, seeming to awaken from her trance, fingers scaling impeccably over those frosty white keys.
“Right here,” he assured, reaching forward as to pinch another caramel from her jar, but instead feeling a small stinging sensation to the top of his hand. The greying woman raised a single eyebrow at him as if daring Haley to argue with her and once their eyes met, the eighteen year old decided to withdraw. “Fine, I have English,” he confessed with a languid roll of eyes. “Nice chatting.” Or hanging over the edge of her desk as if he were clutching for dear life in a vast, cold sea.
Backpack, which was weighed on his shoulder, was ignored, trudging out from the quiet prison and ended up down a crowded, noisy hall full of noisy, atrociously bland students. Since arriving here, there hadn’t been a whole lot of anything that had sufficiently caught his attention. His shy, bumbling roommate would be one of the exceptions, as well as Sebastien Lenoire. Oh, where to even begin with Sebastien? Dear, Siren Sebastien. Light of his life, fire of his loins, blah, blah, fucking blah. Adoration didn’t seem like a strong enough word to describe the certain emotion he had towards the cheeky blond, but it certainly would do for the time being. The boy had done him the honour of introducing him to a new world of art appreciation and for this, Haley was extremely appreciative. A whole lot of masterpieces would be painted around this bland institute ‘x’ by ‘x’ on a rather convenient school map.
Legs were heavy, unwilling, but in good time he had arrived at the appropriate classroom door, sighing obnoxiously before turning the knob and pushing his entire weight against the door. What a drama queen. Upon entering however, that jaded expression seemed to fade from his face the moment he caught sight of exactly the boy he wanted to see. Oh, forget the teacher. He’d deal with that mess later. No time was wasted.
“Lenoire, the librarian touched me in my bathing suit area,” he whined, lying through his teeth. Bag was dropped unceremoniously, smack dab in the middle of the floor, and he approaching the other, arms crossed huffily over his chest. Of course he’d exaggerate. “And let’s skip, I think you should make me feel better.” Oh, was My. Greyson not even five steps from him? Oh, how embarrassing. “And don’t tease this time,” he added, biting down on a plump lower lip and resting his weight on the edge of a particularly uncomfortable desk. “It was just fucking cruel.”
Melodramatic, pent up, and nowhere near ready to start the day.
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Anna
Senior Member
the guilty one.
Posts: 412
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Post by Anna on Dec 3, 2008 23:29:02 GMT -5
Going to the administration for permission? So Joss Greyson had some teacher in him after all. That was to be expected. To be perfectly honest, Sebastien found it a little reassuring. He wasn't sure how he would deal with thoroughly fucking with Mr. Greyson if he couldn't find a shred of teacherly inclination in him. But there it was.
Had Sebastien ever studied interpretive dance before? No, of course fucking not. But he was well trained in bull shittery, and if you handed him a topic on a notecard, he could talk about it for hours and with seemingly the highest amount of knowledge on the subject.
"Oh, no, no," he said, looking at Greyson as if he had suggested something crude and offensive. "If I had to ask the powers-that-be for permission then that completely ruins the point of the dance. The dance is representive of the freedom and liberation of the human soul, which," he added, nodding at his teacher, dragging his point back to Great Expectations, "is something Pip never had on his journey to becoming a gentleman."
Oh, Seb. He was such a charming motherfucker. How could you argue with a smile like that, even if those lips were sprouting off such bullshit? Connecting Pip's metaphorical imprisonment to the overbearing nature of prep school authority? It was a bit of a stretch.
However, before he could fully ride his point home, Sebastien was reminded that he indeed was required to stay in the class for a whole other period. He heard someone enter the room, signaling near the beginning of the class, and he tossed the newcomer a don't-you-dare-interupt look. Sebastien was dealing with serious business, after all.
But his pale blue eyes fell on the intruder, and immediately, a pleased grin took the place of his don't-fuck-with-us expression. Oh, English class with Mr. Greyson would be much more interesting with this beautiful company, that much Sebastien was sure of. He greeted Haley with a wink, and listened to his whining with half an ear.
When he'd finished, he matched his friend's melodramatics with a patronizing look. "Badge, where are your manners? It's terribly rude to interupt." He brieftly stuck out his tongue at the boy, loving to kick him around while he was in his whining mood.
No matter how many times Haley would ask him, Sebastien would never stop teasing. Especially if they had an auditence. "So smile and be a big boy; this whole needy thing doesn't look good on you." He reached out a thumb and drew it down the boy's bottom lip, dragging it from the bite he had it locked in. With a quick wink to Haley, he turned back to his teacher.
"Anyway. I see where you're coming from, really. Some people just don't appreciate the human body like those of us who are more cultured," he said. "So, I extend this offer -- only partial nudity, but my friend here gets to join in. Sound like a deal?"
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Post by gil on Dec 7, 2008 21:47:21 GMT -5
He highly doubted the boy's ability to actually engage in interpretive dance. He wasn't a complete idiot. Were he a good teacher, he would put his foot down and insist that Seb find a more reasonable alternative assignment. Again, this came back to rewarding creativity. If he were a bit brighter, he'd just give in and grade the kid on the convincing speech.
Frankly, Joss found Sebastien's sense of humor--if that was the right word--to be quite entertaining. Most people wouldn't think of interpretive dance, even if it was a stab at his teaching methods. And the deadpan way he'd announced his intention to do it in the nude. How long was Seb going to keep up with this? Instincts told him that Sebastien didn't have any intention of backing down.
"Then isn't the dance not so interpretive of Great Expectations?" Joss replied, still continuing with a deadly serious air. "If nudity is about liberation, then wouldn't it be more relative to the text to be closed? Not, of course, to imply that censoring you is to be encouraged, but I'm wondering if that's perhaps the best way of representing the themes found in the book. A lot of Dickens' literature has to do with confinement of the spirit, stemming from being trapped as a victim of child labor in his youth, so is nudity really an applicable format?"
Those pretty brown eyes twinkled with amusement. He had initially been a bit thrown off by the sudden suggestion, but now he was meeting Seb on it, fully. Maybe he could find someone to come in and help interpret his dance, someone that actually knew about interpretive dance. Seb talked pretty; could he dance so seriously?
He was distracted as another came through the door, lifting his gaze from the manipulative blonde before him to inspect his new student, a dark-haired boy. Judging from the smile on Seb's face, this was a good thing for the boy, a friend of his. Still with that calm, serene expression, he listened as the newcomer whined about supposed molestation--something he doubted, considering the librarians here, who were, for the most part, married, dating, or resigned to a sexless existence.
Reduced to silence, he watched on with mild curiosity as Seb spoke to him, both mocking and flirtatious all at once, it seemed, especially when the blonde teenager reached for his friend's lips, winking suggestively. Joss couldn't help but suspect that this little performance existed in part because he was going to be observing, though he didn't seem at all put off. Whether Seb was gay or not didn't really matter.
"Well," The teacher replied cheerfully, "I'd like to actually know his name before I start giving him permission to be nude--pardon, semi-nude--in class. Besides, it is an individual project, so..." Joss seemed to suddenly interrupt himself, having been pondering for several minutes. "Sebastien, or do you prefer something else?" More quietly, he added, "I keep thinking about the crab from The Little Mermaid, and now that song is stuck in my head." There was such utter revulsion is Joss' tone; The Little Mermaid was one of his least favorite Disney movies.
[underconstruction]
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Post by marriedinthesunx on Dec 7, 2008 23:17:28 GMT -5
Mr. Greyson was tossed a quick, almost distasteful glance. The sort of attention a person would only issue when noting a collection of trash collecting in a previously green ditch. It was a real shame to say it, but these looks would probably be the only form of communication between the two of them during the year at Eddingborough. Haley didn’t hold teachers in high regard, or anyone, for that matter, who believed they instantly deserved to earn his respect. It was just the way it was.
Attention turned to his companion, however, and amusement seemed to work its way on those features. His lips quirked in a cocky smile and a chuckle that was begging to be released, was suppressed. Manners? Was that honestly the battle Sebastien wanted to pick with him? Oh, it wasn’t even worth it. Instead of making a rightful fuss, the brunet simply kept his mouth shut, gazing around the shoddily decorated classroom. The one thing he could say for it? It didn’t smell like old people. Third period math smelled like an Old Folk’s home.
The tongue that jutted out from his friend’s mouth was met with a quirked eyebrow. “What are we here, seven?” He inquired, perching himself on top of the desk he had been previously lounging against. However, it appeared that the new comer really wasn’t one for taking advice and when that mocking, and potentially humiliating ‘needy’ statement was made, the eighteen year old copied the seven year old response. Tongue snidely pointing at the blond beside him.
But where was the use in arguing with Sebastien Lenoire? Sebastien, who rolled his thumb so deliciously over his lower lip. That boy really knew how to work him into a fucking disaster. Teeth snapped at the other’s hand, licking his lips and leaning back, palms flat and an inch behind him.
He’d smarten up, be polite for a couple of minutes at least, while his comrade issued a quick talk with the enemy. But all at once he laughed, a good natured, almost completely out of character Haley Badger laugh that a man like Joss would never really appreciate or ever come to understand.
Partial nudity and his involvement? What had he just been signed up for? Attention turned back to Joss, waiting for a reply to be supplied and almost seeming to grin wolfishly when he had the opportunity to introduce himself. “Haley Badger,” was the quick introduction, seeming to delight merely in his own name. “And sir,” he began, the formality certainly a bit mocking. “Can you not see it? Are you blind? We are simply counterparts. How can Sebastien even begin an individual project when he is not whole? And partially nude for that matter,” he turned now, glancing at his friend with raised eyebrows. “What does partially nude encompass? It seems awfully vague to me.”
No matter.
And all at once, the brunet scoffed. He’d take care of the Disney remark for the other. “Sebastien is completely acceptable, however,” feet were wiggled, trying to get rid of a small ache at his heel. “However, if you’re going to be simply ridiculous and bring up Disney, which I’m certain he’s never heard before, I suppose it would be best if you addressed him as Seb.”
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Anna
Senior Member
the guilty one.
Posts: 412
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Post by Anna on Dec 8, 2008 16:54:59 GMT -5
Sebastien felt somewhere at the back of his head that he should be annoyed that Haley felt it fit to speak on his behalf. But he wasn't, because it seemed perfectly natural that the brunet should speak for him. They were, as he had so wonderfully explained to their teacher, two halves of one whole. So what that their interactions had been mostly limited to sex, punctuated with occasional conversation? That didn't matter to Seb. As far as he was concerned, Haley Badger had already earned the rights to joint custody of his soul.
"Thank you, Badge," he said importantly, giving him a nod, and turning to address the teacher with a very serious look on his face. "What my friend here just explained is absolutely correct. It would be literally impossible for me to perform on my own. You say it is an individual project, and we -- " He snaked his arm around Haley's waist and yanked him to his side "--are an individual. Two bodies. One soul. You must learn to deal with us as one entity, because that is the way it is."
People were beginning to file in now, the desks slowly filling up. Out of the corner of his eye, Seb noticed the infamous duo of Thing 1 and Thing 2, whatever their names were. Sebastien was only familiar with the pair as the bane of Haley's existance. He gave his friend a nudge to alert him of Ernest and Kida's entrance, but turned his attention back to his teacher.
"As to your concerns about whether my dance will be relevant to Great Expectations?" he said. "I agree with you that it will be a little .. untraditional .. but I don't want to be cliché. I'll be able to make a statement perfectly, I promise. About the confinement of the spirit and all." Another cheeky grin was offered, and a quick glance at the clock. "And now, sir, I believe you have a class to start. I'll get working on that assignment right away."
He gave his friend a tug, wanting to get desks next to the other before they were all filled. As they walked away from the desk, he said loudly to his companion, "Partial nudity? Just think of the amount of clothes you get off of me before I decide to be an asshole and leave you to deal with it yourself."
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Post by marriedinthesunx on Dec 9, 2008 16:39:44 GMT -5
The brunet merely shrugged off his companion's appreciation, as if it was more of his god given right to speak for Sebastien, rather than something he had earned. A bored yawn left Haley's lips, lazily covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Body shook from the mere exhaustion, falling into the other boy as soon as he was grabbed, stabling himself against his deemed 'second half' and seeming to curl into him like a cat might if given the opportunity. They just fit so delightfully well together. As if they were indeed a pair of corresponding puzzle pieces.
Dark eyes turned back to Mr. Grayson, vaguely amused with their current argument and perhaps a little curious as to what the educator would accept out of the two boys. This was probably a good sign the pair of them were trouble, probably a good time to break them up before English period was dominated by the frisky boys. But, to be honest, that probably wouldn't have helped all too much either. There were always ways to strike back. Teenagers were perfectly unlimited.
Attention peaked when he was nudged in the ribs, the eighteen year old reeling back to get a glance at the extra bodies that had slipped into the open classroom. Of course, he had done this in such a manner that Sebastien didn't quite have to release him until absolutely necessary. But on his own, Haley managed to escape, eyebrows raising once he got a better look at a very familiar Ernest Bruun and his nauseatingly adorable first year pet. Cock blocking pet. Watch Dog. Oh, and he didn't even MEAN to scowl at the bright eyed blond, but it happened all the same and Nakita shrunk under his gaze.
From the back of the room he heard a vague voice from the fifteen year old. Something along the lines of, 'Can we please sit back here?' As if Haley might simply cause him to burst into flames with his gaze alone. Hazel eyes strayed now to his room mate, offering a cocky smile before getting caught off guard, body stumbling clumsily when grabbed and interestingly enough he followed obediently, kicking his stray back pack to where they finally situated themselves, side by side.
Nose scrunched in contempt, Haley obviously not looking amused with Sebastien's clothes reference. "Count me out then, Lenoire," he muttered sourly, half way tempted to just keep his collection of pencils and binders in his bag. Could he get away with sleeping in this class. If he tried hard enough he could probably get Seb to lend him his lap for a quick snooze. But that wouldn't be inconspicuous at all, now would it?
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