Lord Voldemort is (ahalfblood) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-11-02 17:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | bellatrix black, tom riddle |
Who: Noah and Marta
What: In-class, and after-class, discussion.
Where: UNLV.
When: Backdated to before Halloween plot.
Warnings/Rating: Nooone.
Like most professors, Noah utilized the wonders of modern technology in his lectures. PowerPoints and overhead projectors came in handy considering the amount of material he had to cover, especially since he liked showing images and video clips in order to reinforce the topic, and it was much easier to speak to his students without having to worry about writing key points on the whiteboard that took up half the wall every five seconds. Unlike most professors, however, he didn’t post his material online. In his mind that was a cop-out, a way for students to take the easy way out and do as little work as possible. He understood that, while he could go on and on for more than the allotted two-hour slot, not everyone was as passionate about the subject as he was, but he didn’t think expecting his students to listen was asking too much. He tried not to be one of those boring professors who droned on and on, but there were lines he didn’t cross. Lines like performing ancient rituals in class or discussing fictional representations of magic in a real-world context.
Well, actually, the latter wasn’t a bad suggestion. But for the most part, it seemed that Magic, Witchcraft and Religion had been misinterpreted by almost half the students who’d registered for the course. Some were genuinely interested in the complicated, sometimes adverserial relationship between magic and religion and the evolution of both, but others had the wrong idea altogether.
Still, he supposed it could be worse. Here he kept his work as a paranormal investigator quiet; before Vegas, his classes had been full because word had gotten out and he’d barely been able to teach since no one actually wanted to hear about the material itself. More than one university had politely asked him to leave as a result. Here, he hoped that didn’t happen, because unappreciative students or not he really did like teaching, and if he could share his knowledge with at least one interested student who might go on and benefit from it, well, he’d done his job.
As end of one hour swiftly approached, leading into hour two, he gave the class a ten-minute break and prepared his slides for the next portion of his lesson. Once everyone had re-settled and the chatter died down, Noah took a sip of lukewarm coffee and began to speak. “As I mentioned beforehand,” he said, “try to let go of your current understanding of religion. I’m sure most of you immediately think of Christianity, Judaism, Islam, or one of the other widely known organized religions, but think of it less as a specific entity and more as a concept. We’ll go back, now, about thirty thousand or so years, so the earliest known beginnings of religious behavior.” From there he continued on, flipping through slides that outlined prehistoric roots and the earliest known human burials and what might have indicated religious behavior that could be tied to modern-day burials. Cave drawings, too, were a key component, as they gave a visual representation of what divine entities might have been worshiped at the time. Midway through, a young man raised his hand and, upon being called on, asked if they were going to learn about human sacrifice.
“We’ll touch on that later, yes,” Noah replied, and the boy grinned. “Cool.” He sighed inwardly, though he was beginning to find that maturity was more elusive here than he’d hoped for.
Marta had gone back and forth on her decision to check out the class. Before falling asleep the night before, falling onto half of an already occupied futon, she’d finally settled on not going. But she’d woken up early, stared at the stained ceiling for what felt like hours, and eventually pushed herself out of bed, deciding to see what the big deal was about college.
The weather outside was still nice - a little windy, but nice - so throwing on a pair of jeans was no big deal. Tucking them into a pair of chunky, heeled boots was no big deal, either. And then she paused, staring down into one of the duffle bags that held her clothing. Most of it was meant to be worn on stage, and she had very little she thought would be appropriate for a college classroom. She could push it in the other direction, wear something that would have people staring while trying not to, but the teacher… professor… had been nice enough in the journals, and she didn’t want to completely fuck up his class. Black bra, black shirt that was just this side of too sheer, that would have to do. She twisted her hair up so that the wind wouldn’t make a giant tangle of it, slicked on dark eyeliner with a practiced hand, grabbed her bag, and slipped out of the still-sleeping apartment.
She knew where the campus was. It was hard not to. She’d never actually been there, though, and there was the problem. She had the class name, the building name, the room number she needed, but when the bus let her off near the center of campus, she just stood around and stared as people moved around her. It was already time for the class to be starting, and she had no idea what direction to even begin to search. It took her a few minutes of creeping panic before she reminded herself that she didn’t even have to be there. No one was going to fail her for being late, and if she really couldn’t find the room, then fuck it.
That made it easier, and when a guy with more ink than she had started walking by, she was able to catch up to him and ask where the building was, throwing him a sweet smile when he pointed her in the right direction. It wasn’t as far as she’d been fearing, though it was still partway through the class before she found the right hallway. Students milled around outside, obviously on a break as they began to filter back toward the room that matched what she was searching for, and though a few of them threw her odd looks, she slipped into class with them, finding an open seat at the very back of the room.
And the rest of the time flew. She balanced her chin in her left hand, not realizing how it left her Wheel of Life tattoo exposed to anyone that glanced over, and followed the lecture easily enough from what she’d read in the past. There were new things that the professor (Noah, she reminded herself) threw in, things she’d never heard of, and she found herself itching for a pen and something to write on. And one of the books she saw open on everyone else’s desk. But she knew to be happy with just the slides that were flashing by on the screen.
The interruption of a stupid question made her roll her eyes and shift in her seat. Really? All the interesting things they were already being taught and all this guy cared about was human sacrifice? She may have sighed, just a little, as she shifted, but then settled again and hoped that the class would continue without any more dumb questions.
It was too early in the year for Noah to have become acquainted with all his students, and despite the months ahead he was sure there were some whose names he would never end up learning. Unfortunately, while it wasn’t a large class, it wasn’t small enough for a great deal of one-on-one interaction and participation wasn’t mandatory. He had his office hours, of course, and his door was always open to those willing to take initiative, but this wasn’t high school. He didn’t take attendance, didn’t go around the room and force each person to state their name and an interesting fact about themselves; these were adults, for the most part, not children. Occasionally he would ask questions and call upon volunteers, but he wasn’t a fan of putting people on the spot. Not unless they were being disrespectful enough to warrant it, that is. While generally easygoing he wasn’t adverse to helping steer his students back on track, though he was never vindictive or cruel in his methods. After the blip concerning human sacrifice, he continued on with his lecture, gaze moving over the classroom and the students who filled the seats as he spoke. There were familiar faces, mostly, perhaps a couple he suspected had only just begun attending his lecture, including one girl in black who sat in the very back. He was always tempted to coax those out of their shells, to find out why they sat so very far away from the front, but he didn’t want to unnecessarily single anyone out.
The problem with two-hour lectures, however, was that students had a tendency to lose interest. He could understand that; listening to someone speak for that long, regardless of the topic, could become taxing. Noah paused, surveying the class for a few moments. “Let’s change things up a little for the last half hour or so,” he said. “This class is meant to, among other objectives, broaden your perspective beyond a limited scope. I’d like to get an idea of where we’re all at, and we can compare that with where you are by the end of the year. Now, we’ll start simple. Can anyone name and briefly explain a religion that is not Christianity, or any subsequent subgroups?” One second ticked by, then another, as a few students either glanced around at each other or firmly fixed their gazes downward.
Marta wasn’t part of the class. She sat there, drank in everything Noah was teaching, but it was nearly impossible for her to forget that she didn’t actually belong among the ranks of the other students. She came to hear someone talk about something that fascinated her, instead of just reading about it in books. And already she’d had to blink a few times as words were said that she’d been pronouncing wrong in her head for years. She was very aware of the possibility of marking herself as even more of an outside her she began to talk and stumbled on even more of those types of words. But she had a hard time believing that in a class like this, not one person would have an answer to the questions that were being asked. They weren’t even that difficult of questions, not in her mind, and she frowned around at the students.
Why was no one saying anything? Did they not know? How could they be in this class and not know? Was there something wrong with speaking up in a college class? She’d never participated much before dropping out of school, but that was in shitty classes like pre-algebra and biology. She glanced back at Noah, taking in his expectant expression, and figured that no, participation was expected. The silence began to weigh on her, and though a very loud part of her said to keep her mouth shut, she couldn’t stand it any longer. Barely moving, barely making a sign that she was speaking at all, she took a chance. “Buddhism,” she said softly into the hanging silence. It was the first religion she’d really learned about those few years ago. Barely sixteen, dressed in just a t-shirt, with her bare legs draped over the lap of a man at least twice her age. They were good memories, and she smiled as she thought back before pulling her attention to return to the present.
That he expected some sort of participation might have been a stretch, but he certainly hoped for it. The longer the silence stretched, however, the more Noah began to doubt that anyone was particularly interested in becoming involved with a discussion, and he was about to simply answer his own question when someone in the back row spoke up. It was quiet, but even so it was enough to catch his attention and that of a few others, and the silence was permeated by some rustling as students turned to catch a glimpse of the brave soul who’d actually given a response.
He smiled at the unfamiliar girl, unconcerned as to whether she was a student, someone auditing the class, or even just a curious bystander. There was no attendance taken and thus no way to determine who was there and who wasn’t, because he didn’t mind. “Buddhism, yes. Good. Can you tell us a little about Buddhism? Just a brief overview, no need to go into detail.” His smile turned encouraging, then, and he hoped she wouldn’t go silent after her contribution.
She wasn’t expecting people to turn and look, and she subtly but visibly flinched back in her seat, as if drawing away those few inches would keep her from the looks. She had no problem with people looking at her most of the time, but that was on her terms, and usually in a dimly lit club, and in far less than she was currently wearing. Not in a bright, clean classroom full of bored kids likely only a few years older than her. Her expression held somewhere between wary and defensive for a moment. She wanted to flip everyone off and slip out of the room, but she was just a little too stubborn for that. So she swallowed, leaned her arms on the bare top of the tiny desk (not quite realizing how her shirt gapped and nearly showed the top of her lotus tattoo), and pulled her thoughts together to reply.
“It’s a religion that got started over in India, mostly based on shi--stuff that this guy was teaching. Buddha. That wasn’t his real name, but it’s what everyone calls him. It’s a lot about balance and putting an end to suffering.” She paused, trailing off. She could have gone on about more of it, about enlightenment and nirvana and karma, but… “There’s more, but you wanted a short fuc-- a short answer.” The words came out defensive, and she frowned at herself (and then at the girl two rows up that was staring at her).
Quite honestly, Noah wouldn’t have been surprised had the girl refused to respond or, even, simply left the lecture hall altogether. She certainly didn’t look as though she liked being the center of attention, and he momentarily regretted centering her out before she, to his relief, began to speak. He wasn’t oblivious to the way some of his other students were staring at her, the difference between the way the males and the females regarded her too obvious to miss, but he was watching her in an altogether different manner. He’d expected her to say something about Buddha but nothing more than that, as that was usually the extent of students’ knowledge, but he was pleasantly surprised when she continued.
“I did ask for a short answer,” he agreed, unperturbed by her defensiveness. “But by all means, you’re welcome to continue if you like. I just thought it might be easier for you.” He paused, observing the scrutiny she was coming under. “The rest of you should pay attention. You might learn something.” His voice remained mild, but there was an undertone that had a few students turning in their seats, embarrassed.
Marta froze at his words to the rest of the class, staring at him over their heads with the start of a soft line between her brows. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all, and in that brief passing moment, she ran the gamut of unflattering things to call him in her head. Her voice took on a sharper edge when she opened her mouth again, though she tried to rein it back. “Fine, then. Buddha was all about finding a permanent end to suffering and getting out of the big birth and rebirth cycle that most people in his area believed in. So he pretty much spent his whole fucking life looking for answers to that. And he nearly starved himself and stuff before he figured out that maybe not doing anything extreme in any way was the way to go. And some other people thought that was pretty awesome and started following the same sorts of things. So there’s a shit ton of people, all practicing this stuff, and some of them actually get it and get to this higher level of being.”
She stopped, still looking at him, having not dropped her gaze through the whole time she was talking, telling him everything instead of having to acknowledge the students around her. “And there’s a fuck ton more that has to do with philosophy and different practices and meditation, but if you want them to know about it, have them read a fucking book or teach them yourself.” She paused at the end, still looking up at him, before she finally dropped her gaze and sat back in her seat, crossing her legs off to the side of the tiny desk.
Once the other students realized that the girl wasn’t going to stammer and stutter and make an idiot out of herself, well, they started paying a little more attention, and the added curses had them looking between her and Noah to gauge his reaction. To his credit, he didn’t react, nor did he break her gaze. He listened as she spoke, nodding along thoughtfully as though agreeing with what she said. Admittedly, he was impressed. Her approach might have been unconventional but she certainly knew her facts. And, too, her explanation was spoken in a way that sounded less academic and more relatable to a wider audience. He could appreciate that.
A short period of silence followed after she sat back before Noah chuckled, a mix between entertained and impressed. “Very good,” he remarked. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to teach my class and I would never deprive any of you of the opportunity to learn on your own.” There were a couple of scattered groans, but they faded quickly. “Thank you,” he added, to the girl who’d spoken up, flashing another smile before turning and making his way back to the board. For the remainder of the class he built upon what she’d offered, outlining the most widely recognized non-Western religions and the differences versus the similarities.
Marta sank back in her seat, slouching after the professor’s strange little approval. She’d half been expecting him to ask her to leave, or for him to at least shout a little about her behavior. She’d been purposely rough, the curses slipping out easily with the rest of her words, but he’d barely batted an eye. Miles and miles away from the teachers she remembered. For a second she was guilty about being such a disruption in his class, but she had to admit that the approval, the “very good”, made her feel very good. She knew that she knew her shit, but she couldn’t remember someone ever telling as much. Not with school things, at least.
She was maybe blushing. Just a little. Enough to feel too warm in her seat, and she slouched down even farther, trying avoid the occasional glances of a few of the students. She leaned her cheek on one fisted hand, hiding most of it from view until it had cooled. The familiar words and facts passed around her, half her mind tuning in, in case there was something new to her. After a few minutes, she paid more attention again, her gaze sharp on the overhead screen and sometimes flickering over toward him. She didn’t seem to have fucked her chances of returning for another class, though maybe he was just waiting until there wasn’t an audience in order to give her shit about showing up. There was one way to find out, and as the time ticked closer to the end of class, she kept her ass firmly in her seat, not making any move to gather her few things for a quick escape.
Noah always took his time packing up after his class was finished, just in case students had questions or wanted to chat. It helped that he didn’t have anywhere to be immediately afterward, and so there was no rush, no reason to be someplace else. There were a few mumbled see ya, Dr. Cooper’s and other farewells, but no inquires regarding the subject matter or about the midterm set for the end of the month. A day or two before his inbox would be flooded with e-mails, he was sure, but he’d come to expect it by this point in his career.
By the time he was finished, notes collected and the board cleared, most students had either already left or were on their way out. Not the girl who’d spoken, however, the one whose face he couldn’t quite place. Despite that, the last thing Noah intended on doing was giving her shit as he made his way to the back of the room, pausing by her seat. “Your participation was appreciated,” he said with a friendly smile. “I don’t recall seeing you in class before. Did you just transfer in?”
As everyone else had trickled out of the room, Marta took the moment to double-check her phone, make certain she hadn’t been called in for an earlier shift while she’d sat listening to the lecture. It didn’t blink a thing at her, though, so she shoved it back in her bag and was starting to stand when he stopped near her seat. She looped the strap of her bag over one shoulder as she stood, glad that she’d worn her chunkiest boots that gave her an extra few inches. She was still shorter than he was, but not nearly as much as she’d have been in flats.
His question didn’t make sense to her at first - talk of transfers - until she realized he thought she was an actual student. Her eyebrows inched up as the rest of her face slid into an unbelieving expression and she tucked a piece of hair back that had slipped out of the messy bun at the back of her head. This close, her shirt was sheer enough to reveal the ink on the skin beneath, but she wasn’t focused on that at all. “I’m Marta. You invited me? In the…” she trailed off, a quick glance over at the few remaining students in the room. Instead of finishing her sentence, she brought her hands together and subtly butterflied them out twice in what she figured was some sort of universal symbol for “book”, hoping he’d remember and understand.
The expression on her face puzzled him, at least initially. Transfers were common, especially this early in the year, and Noah was accustomed to new faces appearing and familiar ones disappearing as students adjusted to their schedules and decided what they did and didn’t want to study. Her name sparked familiarity due to the fact that he didn’t know many Martas, and the mention of an invitation settled everything into place. Ah, yes, the strange journal. He hadn’t spoken to all that many people on there as of yet, mainly just observing, and so he nodded. “Yes, Marta. I remember you.” His smile broadened. “I’m glad you decided to come.” He hadn’t necessarily expected her to take him up on his offer, but he was pleased that she had. “What did you think? I welcome any and all criticism,” he added.
His recognition somehow eased the tight feeling in her stomach (the one that said maybe she really wasn’t supposed to have come), and she shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she shifted her hips. It was the open sort of thing that usually made girls scowl at her when she did it around their boyfriends, though she did it without even thinking, a natural sort of posture. And she smiled in response to his, something almost sweet. “It was good. I mean, I guess I don’t really know. I don’t have a shit ton to compare it to. But I liked it. Other than having a bunch of assholes staring at me, but that was sort of my own fucking fault, wasn’t it? I thought you were waiting for something, but nobody was fucking saying anything, and, I dunno, it just popped out.” She made a face at herself, more animated and comfortable now that she didn’t have the pressure of the rest of the class looking at her.
It didn’t seem to matter to him that she had little else to compare his lecture to. Noah wasn’t arrogant enough to think that he was the best professor on campus, or even in the department, but he didn’t think himself horrible either; regardless, it never hurt to hear some positive feedback. “That’s good to hear,” he chuckled. “I’m glad you liked it.” If having his students referred to as assholes bothered him, well, he gave no sign of it, and he laughed when she made a face. “Apparently the concept of participating is foreign to them,” he said dryly. “I hoped, foolishly, that I might be able to coax some of them into offering a contribution. You were the only one who did, and I thank you for that. You’ve retained some of my faith in today’s youth.”
She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight again, ignoring the way it made her shirt start to slip off one shoulder. If she’d been watching herself, she’d have seen how it looked from the outside, the easy smile and inviting body language. She’d gone from sullen and self-conscious back into comfortable, and it looked like flirting. Her words weren’t any sort of seductive though. “If they’re not into participating, why are they even in the class? Like, college isn’t fucking mandatory, right? They don’t have to fucking be here. It doesn’t make any sense.” She grinned at his laugh and shook her head. “Baby, I don’t think I exactly count as ‘today’s youth’. No matter how old I am. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not really a ‘today’s youth’ kinda girl.” She leaned forward with that, smile still wide. The lean forward showed the inked lotus blossom again, peeking around the darker lines of her bra until she shifted and shrugged the shirt back up her shoulder.
Noah wasn’t often in the habit of flirting with his students, or anyone else for that matter, and even if someone had been flirting with him he likely wouldn’t have recognized it for what it was. To an outsider it might have seemed as such but to him, they were simply having a conversation. “No, college certainly isn’t mandatory, and it’s not free either. Whether it’s them or their parents, someone is paying for them to be here.” Which was the main reason why he never could understand why students slacked off or didn’t put in the effort they were capable of. He had his own feelings on tuition but, unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything about it; all he could do was try to ensure that they received an education worth the amount they’d paid. “It is the beginning of the year. They might warm up to me as time passes,” he said dryly, “or maybe they think they can pass just by showing up, and that’s all that matters.” Being called ‘baby’ gave him pause, but it was just a hiccup, nothing he dwelled on. “No? What, then, is a ‘today’s youth’ kind of girl?” He smiled back, and when his gaze flickered downward, just for a moment, he caught sight of the tattoo before she pulled her shirt back on her shoulder. “Are you particularly interested in Buddhism?” An innocent question, but between her response and the lotus blossom, he thought it was a fair guess.
Marta smiled again, genuinely enjoying talking to him, and a part of her wondered what it might be like if she was in his class. For real. Then she realized that none of his actual students were hanging around to talk to him, so fuck that idea. “They’re idiots,” she said, both in response to her own thoughts and his comments about the students - the tuition, the just skating by to pass. She leaned her hip against one of the seats, wishing for a more comfortable place to perch, but making do with what the classroom provided. She thought about “today’s youth” as she got as comfortable as possible, and grinned when a girl wandered past the classroom, talking on her phone. The conversation carried too clearly, talking about the party for the weekend, some guy that she’d hooked up with, skipping her classes to go a One Direction concert. Marta just grinned and tipped her head toward the door. “Today’s youth.” The words were laced with the undercurrent of a laugh.
She easily caught his glance downward when she shifted again, well-practiced at knowing the gazes of men and where they might land on her body. It didn’t make her uncomfortable (not like it sometimes could), and even before he asked, she knew where his eyes had strayed. She didn’t respond to his question, not immediately, but she looked down at herself, at the pointed petals that peeked out. She undid another button of her shirt, unselfconsciously, to show more of the ink there, though a good portion of it would have to remain covered unless she really started undressing. “‘Cause of this?” she asked, fingertips to skin. There was maybe a devilish quirk inching into the corners of her smile - she’d caught the glance, and now she was making him look. She wanted to know how he’d react. “I like Buddhism. It’s the first religion I learned about.” On a dirty couch, wrapped up with a man likely older than he was. Not that she added that particular detail. “I’ve got others, too. I just have a lot of ‘em covered today.” She turned over her left wrist though, and lifted it slightly so he could see the wheel of life dark against her skin. “This was my first one. I got it the same time I started learning about religions.”
It wasn’t in Noah’s nature to go so far as calling his students idiots, even if he sometimes thought as much to himself. Most of the time it was self-inflicted stupidity; they had the potential, they just chose to completely squander it. “They don’t always apply themselves,” he said carefully, though in reality it was just a nice way of agreeing with her. Any attempts at tact went out the window, though, as the girl’s loud phone conversation carried into the classroom and even he couldn’t help laughing. “I think she just proved your point.” A healthy balance between school and a social life was fine, but really.
He’d expected an answer, not for her to unbutton her shirt. It caught him off guard, admittedly, which was evident in an increase in blinking and a raise of his eyebrows before he realized what she was doing and relaxed a little. “Yes, because of that,” he said, and the way his gaze lowered was almost polite, careful, to show interest in the tattoo and nothing more. “What others do you have?” Based on the fact that she’d said most of them were covered, he wasn’t going to ask where, not that he would have asked under normal circumstances either. He tipped his head to the side when she turned over her wrist, a murmur of appreciation escaping his lips as he recognized the tattoo for what it was. “Why was that your first?”
The stunned expression on his face made her grin. Yep, she’d wondered if that was going to be his reaction. The ones that tried not to look were always fun to mess with. She left the shirt undone that extra button while she answered his questions. “The wheel, the lotus,” she gestured at her chest, “a voodoo crossroads on my neck, a hamsa on my side and the start of a Ganesh on my leg. My thigh.” She smiled again and shrugged. “He’ll come along when I get my hands on a little more cash.” She hoped, at least.
And as to why the wheel was her first? “‘S my first because I was too young before?” She laughed. “Probably was too young then, too, but oh well.” Then taking at least a little pity on him and his quest for an answer. “Same guy that was teaching me was a tattoo artist. And it seemed like a good idea at the time. Haven’t regretted it yet, so I must’ve been right.” She didn’t tell him how it had seemed right, that sign of turning and cycles, of things passing. It was simplistic and left out so many more things she’d learned since then, but even with learning new things, she still hadn’t regretted it. Nor any of her other tattoos. She realized she’d gone too thoughtful, turned inward, and she shook herself to smile at him again. “You got any, Teach?”
“You certainly have quite the collection,” Noah remarked, eyebrows raised, though he was more impressed than critical. She was free to tattoo whatever she chose upon herself, of course, but he’d rarely met anyone who actually put thought into what they inked permanently onto their body. “They’re all significant in one way or another, and you don’t see that often.” He almost asked to see the finished product when, and if, Ganesh was completed, but then he realized that might be a little improper and remained silent.
Too young made him wonder how young she’d actually been, but he didn’t ask. Instead he smiled, recognizing a roundabout not-answer when he heard one, and he was expecting that to be as much as he received in response until she elaborated. “Lack of regret is certainly a good sign,” he agreed wryly. He raised his eyebrows when she asked if he had any; just the thought was enough to make him want to laugh. There was nothing holding him back now, he supposed, but back home his father would have had a heart attack had he gotten anything inked permanently on his skin. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never given it much thought, honestly.”
“I haven’t had ‘em that long, so here’s hoping I don’t end up regretting them in another few years. Think I’m good, though.” She grinned and shifted again, watching the way he almost laughed at her question. “Really? Not even a little thought? All that virgin skin and not even a little curious about throwing some ink on it?” She laughed as she teased, but cut herself off when her phone chimed and buzzed a reminder. If she was going to get to work on time, she couldn’t stay much longer. She made a face and sighed. “That’s my cue. Unfortunately.” It was reluctant, but she reached to grab up her bag.
‘Virgin skin’ was a new way to describe what hadn’t been touched by ink, and Noah found himself laughing without being able to help it. “Maybe a little thought,” he conceded, and when her phone chimed he glanced down idly, politely falling silent so she could take the call, if that was what it was, if she needed to. As it was, he nodded when she said that was her cue, understanding. “You’re always welcome to drop in on another one of my classes,” he offered. He didn’t mind, and really, he suspected she had the most potential out of everyone registered in the course.
She found herself smiling in response to his laugh, and fuck, that seemed like a bad idea. She couldn’t help it, though, and leaned forward to tap her finger against his arm. “Everyone needs a little color, Teach.” With that, she smiled again but shook her head. “I’ll see if I can fit it in.” She grabbed her back and turned, pale skin darkened by lines at the back of her neck, but she moved too quickly for them to be studied. And then she was gone, slipping out the door to try to find her way back to the bus stop so she could change in time to get to work.