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[Continued from here.]
Hi. [She reaches up, swiping a finger under her eyes. It comes away just barely stained with damp mascara. With her clean hand, she offers a polite, buttoned-up handshake.] Clara Oswald. A few years early.
[Her skin is corpse-cold.]
Hi. [She reaches up, swiping a finger under her eyes. It comes away just barely stained with damp mascara. With her clean hand, she offers a polite, buttoned-up handshake.] Clara Oswald. A few years early.
[Her skin is corpse-cold.]
Edited 2017-11-20 04:43 (UTC)
[ it's a hand he accepts, even if it feels strangely formal. it has no reason to, but he knows he means more to her than that now, and it's barely ever handshakes with him anyway. still, he takes her hand, because she's offers it, and it's all he has to offer in return.
and her hand is— cold. there's little display made of it, expression kept as neutral as he can manage, but he casts a swift glance up at her. pointed, concerned. it smooths out - he's smiling again. ]
Clara. A pleasure. [ a few years. ] Funny thing, time. I haven't been pulled out of it in a while. Shame it's muddled us up.
and her hand is— cold. there's little display made of it, expression kept as neutral as he can manage, but he casts a swift glance up at her. pointed, concerned. it smooths out - he's smiling again. ]
Clara. A pleasure. [ a few years. ] Funny thing, time. I haven't been pulled out of it in a while. Shame it's muddled us up.
[She pulls her hand back a bit quickly, and takes a deep, deliberate breath, just for show. It rests still and cold in her chest.]
It's alright. We met out of order to begin with.
[Her smile is narrow and nostalgic. That ridiculous monk's robe, his beaming face - it's all etched in her memory as clear as day.]
It's alright. We met out of order to begin with.
[Her smile is narrow and nostalgic. That ridiculous monk's robe, his beaming face - it's all etched in her memory as clear as day.]
[She listens to his story, amused and sympathetic, and gives a little nod.]
Partially. I went to uni for a different kind of art - literature. Wound up teaching it to children, like I always wanted. [And it was wonderful, some of the time, when they weren't sticking gum to their desks or texting each other from across the room or calling her names.] But that's all in the past.
Partially. I went to uni for a different kind of art - literature. Wound up teaching it to children, like I always wanted. [And it was wonderful, some of the time, when they weren't sticking gum to their desks or texting each other from across the room or calling her names.] But that's all in the past.
Ah, an educator! A thankless job. Even one student like me can make for a wholly sour experience, I imagine.
[ With his lack of motivation, it was surely just as frustrating a job to teach him as it was for him to paint those pictures. He smiles all the same, his frustration melting back into the haze of his drunkenness. ]
But I wouldnโt know. If it was what you wanted, it may be that you actually enjoyed it.
[ With his lack of motivation, it was surely just as frustrating a job to teach him as it was for him to paint those pictures. He smiles all the same, his frustration melting back into the haze of his drunkenness. ]
But I wouldnโt know. If it was what you wanted, it may be that you actually enjoyed it.
I enjoyed it well enough. It didn't fit in with the life I wanted, though.
[No job would have, really. She would have needed something that let her take off for weeks at a time without a word of warning.]
Wasn't always thankless, though. I loved my students - even the worst ones, sometimes.
[No job would have, really. She would have needed something that let her take off for weeks at a time without a word of warning.]
Wasn't always thankless, though. I loved my students - even the worst ones, sometimes.
[It takes her a second, because she's thinking about the discomfort of the sea snake goo stuck in her bra, but she looks over at Clara, arching one brow and fighting back a smirk.]
I bet it glitters. Everything glitters in fucking space, if you go by Flash Gordon.
I bet it glitters. Everything glitters in fucking space, if you go by Flash Gordon.
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