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Tweak says, "Do you know Eric?"

Eames (dream_bigger) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2011-01-18 23:12:00

Entry tags:

eames, sirius black

WHO: Eames, Sirius Black, people in Mr. Eames' class.
WHEN: Morning, 18th January.
WHAT: See Eames teach. See Eames teach History of Art! Sit down and shut up, Sirius.
WHERE: Artroom at the college!

Eames thought he'd got an excellent room. The windows along one wall were huge, and caught the light brilliantly, although the landscape he was presented with when he wandered into the room at Eight o'Clock was still fairly uncomfortable viewing. Still, Colligo seemed to be over the infestation of Bastard Death Balls, so the ruined buildings could soon start to be cleared away. He spent a few minutes looking out at the city, then turned back to look at his classroom.

Huge deep ceramic sinks and wooden countertops lined two of the walls, with pigeon-holes for... plenty of students, he couldn't be arsed to count them, underneath the countertops. The fourth wall had his markerboard thing and the door that led into his supplies store. The trestle tables were arranged in a horse-shoe shape, with Eames' official desk at the open end of the horse-shoe, guarding the door into the supplies (and the kettle and little fridge). On it, there was a copy of the roster for the class along with a print-out of the syllabus for the class. "History of Art" in heavy bold letters. It was very important-looking and official and all that.

Eames ignored it for the moment, went into his store and made himself a mug of tea. Then he went back out into the room, picked a nice spot on one of the countertops and hopped up onto it. He took the paperback book he'd lifted from Ariadne's, Foundation by Asimov, and started to read as he waited for his pupils to show up.

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pad_foot
2011-01-19 12:16 pm UTC (link)

It was more a distraction than anything, although the idea of winding Eames up was always one he approved of. But Remus and Regulus still had to return, and Sirius was sure if he spent one more day without something to keep him from checking the network every five minutes, his head would explode. There was a worried knot in his chest where he was starting to think they wouldn't come back at all, and that wasn't something he could focus on right now.

There was a pressure on his shoulder, and Sirius jerked to attention as his centre of gravity changed and he wobbled dangerously on his chair, a lurch hooking somewhere around his navel. Slamming onto all four legs, Sirius pulled a face at Eames' retreating back. Then the older man was settled at the front, and started acting like an adult and not someone Sirius had once seen piss in an alley.

Sirius yawned, waving a hand in vague recognition of the words 'some stray who's just wandered in off the street'. Sweeping his hair from his eyes, Sirius craned his head back to peer around the room behind him, starting up as the piece of paper landed in front of him. Sirius looked at the page, considering before silently and wandlessly charming the words to squirm and the letters to jumble. When he passed the list on, all the names were slightly of the 'Peter Pants' and 'Ruben Mycock' persuasion.

Then Sirius turned back to continue with his flirting.

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dream_bigger
2011-01-19 09:42 pm UTC (link)

Once the page reached the other end of the horse-shoe, accompanied by not-so-subtle giggles and laughter from everyone who'd seen the page after Sirius got his mucky paws on it, Eames walked over and lifted it, before taking a pair of reading glasses out of his inside pocket and putting them on. Mr. Earnshaw was just a touch long-sighted, after all. Once they were on, he glanced down the list of names and very carefully did not react. Later, he would die laughing. 'Mike Hunt', indeed. Now, though, he didn't even raise an eyebrow.

The page went back onto his desk, and then he lifted the syllabus up for everyone to see. "This, as most of you will know, is the syllabus for this class. Ms. Lopez has told me what's been covered so far, so we'll go over that later." The document was then dropped back on the desk once more, and he started to walk slowly round the space in the middle of the room, looking at each and every student as he walked past them. Even Sirius. "For now, I want to know a bit about you. Your favourite artist, perhaps. Does Da Vinci do it for you, or maybe you're more interested in Botticelli? Andy Warhol or Francis Bacon? Perhaps you think Salvador Dalí is the best artist there has ever been, or perhaps Frida Kahlo? Or what's your favourite work of art? It can be anything, a statue, a pickled shark, a mosaic from ancient Greece or an illuminated manuscript from Ireland. What's your least favourite? Is there an artist who makes you want to wipe his entire ouevre from the world's collective memory?" He stopped walking at that point and looked round the class, then gestured at a young man who'd been in his class yesterday. "Jamie, you can start, and then pick the next person when you're finished."

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pad_foot
2011-01-19 10:17 pm UTC (link)

Oh, he was good. Sirius couldn’t but raise an eyebrow as ‘Mr. Earnshaw’ (Really?) fished out his glasses (Really really?) and read the list. Not a twitch. Well, Sirius enjoyed a challenge. Maybe he was getting a little rusty when it came to destroying a lesson - it had been three years, after all – but he and James had once made Sluggy fall into a cauldron and got McGonagall so angry her hat fell off. Even without his partner in crime here, it couldn’t be denied he was damn good. And he couldn’t think about that too long because eventually his thoughts slipped back to Moony and that hurt. So instead Sirius pulled himself out of his thoughts in time to wink at Eames as he passed, rambling on about something or another.
Ten seconds later, a wad of paper hit ‘Jamie’ neatly in the ear, clipping him hard enough for it to go a brilliant Gryffindor red. It had come flying from the opposite direction of Sirius’ chair, and the animagus took a moment to sigh heavily and tut at a baffled looking redhead in glasses on the other side of the room. Then a second wad of paper shot from a completely separate area of the room, this time hitting Eames’ clearly on the arse. There was a waved of muffled laughter through the students, and Sirius tipped back on his chair once again, smirking and looking quietly and yet arrogantly pleased with himself.

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