Who: Jake Hobbs & Terry Connors What: ...Discussing low grades? IDK. Where: Jake's office, in the Nottingham University campus. When: MONDAY morning. Reposted! Rating: PG-13. There'll be swearing. Status: In Progress.
Terry was Not Happy.
She had been pacing up and down a hall, trying to keep herself from tearing her hair out and/or throwing down a few doors to demand a reasonable explanation. Low grades were, after all, something that happened to other people.
She couldn’t even remember… ah, but wait, she could. Last time a teacher had dared to mark a ‘D’ in her otherwise impeccable school report had been back in elementary school, when an old, ill-tempered woman had insisted on trying to teach ten year olds origami. She remembered staring helplessly at her formless piece of paper, and the dark looks and comments the teacher threw in her direction when she dared speak up to ask her to slow down, or go back a few steps. Though those classes had only been once a week, but they had invariably ended with her either accidentally scorching at least part of her origami star (or supposed-to-be star, because the only thing she could remember managing was a hat and a crane) or in tears of rage and frustration.
… But that wasn’t the point! Nervously biting her nails, Terry tried to think of what could have warranted such a low note. She had skipped school at least twice that semester—one time, she had caught stomach flu which had prompted her to wish to die and ‘get over with it’, and the other… the other had been her mother’s death anniversary. And she had talked to her teachers, had explained, and they had seemed to understand… Teachers tended to like her— in her experience, they always liked those with a real interest in their subject.
Then again. You couldn’t trust him. With anything.
Leaving her nails alone and slightly chipped, Terry looked up. A mistake. That had to be it. She did her homework, and did well in tests, did she not? Wasn’t it what it was all about? Grimacing, she turned on her heels and set out towards his office. While she had no idea of what she was going to tell him (because this experience was completely new to her), she would be damned if she settled for quietly accepting her academic fate.
… What was she going to tell him, though? Losing some of her steam, Terry paused next to his office door. Suddenly uncertain, she fidgeted, distractedly smoothing her hair and straightening her clothes, absurdly wishing she had chosen something more interesting than her father’s coat, which, as comfortable and warm as it was, certainly was not very flattering. With an irritated sigh, she rapped her knuckles against the door. “Professor Hobbs?” Great. If he wasn’t there, she was going to feel pretty damn stupid.