Office Hours (Closed thread)

A Closed Thread for Bevatoria

Becky was worried. She had done well enough in high school, held about a B+ average. It wasn't exactly Harvard-headed grades, but enough to get her enrolled in one of the State Universities in Oswego. She was rather proud of herself for making it in, more so at getting a dorm room all to herself on the campus. At least, that was what she thought was going to happen.

Imagine her surprise (and annoyance) to walk in and find a second bed and desk, both loaded with someone else's things. "Excuse me?," She called, hearing someone already in the small room's shower. "Hello? Pardon me! I think there's been some kind of mistake!"

"I'd say! You don't know how to knock!"
And that was the start of her rather soured relationship with her roomie, Stephanie. Only on campus for a day, and already having troubles. Her concerns were starting to come in now. What if her professors were insanely strict? What if she didn't understand anything at all? Maybe she should have stayed back home and gone to the community college like her friends. Maybe this was just a terrible idea.

"You gonna drop out?"
"Excuse me?"
"That look. You gonna drop out already?"
"No I am not going to drop out!"
"Oh. Okay then."

Another reason to dislike Stephanie.

Her first class was clear across campus. Of course. She made sure to check with Stephanie as nonchalantly as she could on where her first course was, pleased to find out that at least the better majority of her day was spent away from the girl who soured her so much. Good. Stay over there,way over there, and I can stay over here.

She decided to peruse the school website to get an idea on who her teachers were. Each of the classes helpfully had a little bio on the professors, Becky taking a bit of the afternoon to look up each of her classes the night before. Well, that cured a bit of her worries. Most of them seemed to be actually nice, based on the information they provided. Or perhaps it was someone else writing all this out for them and taking a little creative license with their phrasing.

Well, she would find out for herself in the morning. Picking out what she thought to be the perfect outfit for the day ahead of her, Becky proudly hung it from the back of her closet door, glancing over to Stephanie and raising a brow. "Aren't you going to pick things out too?," she asked, smoothing out the wrinkles of her little blue sundress and setting a pair of white sandals on the floor beside it.

"What's to pick? Throw on jeans, grab a shirt, put on sneakers, and off I go. I'm not here to impress anybody." Stephanie wrinkled her nose, eyeing Becky's outfit on the door. "Your feet are going to kill you wearing those shoes. Didn't you take the tour?"
"Good night, Stephanie."


She was up before her phone's alarm the next morning, taking a quick shower and getting her dress on, setting her makeup before heading out. The scent of vanilla wafted from her gently as she walked across the campus, the small bag to hold her pens and a little folder slung over her shoulder as she made her way to the Secondary Hall. Time to meet her first professor. Hopefully his bio on the website was truthful.

Coming into the classroom, she peeked around, surprised to not find him inside yet, but a room full of students waiting. Wandering in slowly, she took a seat off in the side corner, smiling to the young man who took a seat next to her. "Hi there," he said softly, grinning at her.

"Oh, hi. I'm Becky." She smiled in return, reaching into her bag to take out one of her pens, laughing as she saw the sudden horrified look on his face. "You forgot to bring one, didn't you?"
"I didn't. Even. Think about it. I'm doing great already, aren't I?"
Becky laughed again, taking out a second pen and setting it on his desk. "Here. Can't have him thinking you're unprepared, right?"
"Thanks, Becky. I'm Tom. And really, really grateful for that." He picked up the pen, smirking back as he clicked the cap.

---------------
Becky Ellis
Age 19

Professor Adam Tourast kept clenching his fist, as if by doing so he could make time slow down, delaying what he knew he had to do. It took a moment before he stopped, saving him from bruising his own palm with the force of his squeezing. His anger did not dissipate, so he stood up, wishing he was at his home. Where I'm supposed to be he privately fumed.

According to the Dean, going through a divorce did not count as 'personal reasons' for an absence, and that he would have to work through what was rapidly becoming a very painful and costly proceeding. What was supposed to be an even 50/50 split was rapidly descending in the wrong direction Adam made only led for his spiteful wife, Catherine, to try to take more and more. Unfortunately, she had the lawyers, and, for reasons rapidly becoming clear to him, she had the money, too. Every tiny concession he made led to her wanting to take more and more from him.

Their kids were taking it well. At least, Adam assumed so, since none of them had bothered to contact him since the night Catherine had left their home, the beginning of what was sure to be a long and tedious process of cleaning him out of everything without his sole name on it. He'd lucked out into keeping the house, for all the good it would do him with nobody else living it it - and only after being forced to buy Catherine out, depleting his savings. The only sounds that echoed through it now were his increasingly agitated workouts, his hands slamming into the punching bag over and over, as if he could burn the memories of his cheating wife out of him.

It didn't work, but it didn't stop him from trying, and if nothing else he was in the best shape of his life. Physically, nothing could stop him from teaching.

He was in no mental state to teach, though; he knew that. It wasn't as if he couldn't teach this course by instinct; it was an introductory course well below what a man of his stature should be teaching at this point in his career; he'd given close to two decades of his life - more then half of that as a tenured professor - to this institution, and at the age of 43, a candidate to be head of his department soon enough.

His performance had been slipping for a while, and he knew this course was a message to him: get your act together. Adam sighed as he rose from his chair, resigned to his fate; he'd be late for his lecture, but not enough that any student would draw conclusions from it. His pace was brisk as he walked to the door of his private corner office; taking only the briefest of moments to ensure his office was in order. It laid in stark contrast to many professors offices; perfectly cleaned, only few papers left on his desk, a computer with nothing obscuring it. Lighting with purpose, and not for show, and wide windows allowing him a view of the students going to and fro.

Several minutes passed; into the elevator, down to the main level, and towards his lecture hall. Although he didn't enjoy teaching the content of the course, the fact they were first year students did embolden him; the naievety and wonder at the mostly-new students to post secondary life gave him new life.

Adam strode into the mostly full room; there were 36 desks, arranged in six rows of six, in front of the large oak desk in the front of the room, and he walked around the left edge of the room without giving any of the students a glance. He hoped he was faking enough warmth to not scare any of the students; the walk hadn't done anything for his mood but he only had to fake it for seventy five minutes or so.

Longer then Catherine ever did during the past few years. He stopped at the front of the room, the quiet din in the room dropping to complete silence as the gathered students identified him as their teacher. He smiled warmly, looking at them all in turn.

"Good morning." He placed the bag he'd been carrying loosely on the desk, sitting upon it in a casual way that had always seemed to relax the students. "I'm Professor Adam Tourast - though you can feel free to address me however you're comfortable with." A smirk lit his face briefly. "Assuming it's meant as a complement, anyways."

He kept meeting the gazes of the minds he would be attempting to mold. "If this is your first class at the University, then I'd like to welcome you, and I'm glad that you chose me as one of your professors." Adam stopped his gaze near one of the edges of the room, fortunate his breath had caught at exactly that moment; he looked down as he always did at that point in his introduction, but this time it was to recompose himself.

The pause went a bit longer then usual, and when he looked up, he found his gaze drawn that way again; only for an instant, as he resumed looking around the room.

"Welcome to my class...." He paused only briefly, fortunate that he had memorized his spiel as his mind raced, he had seen a student who looked similiar to Catherine had when he had started dating her.

They could have been sisters, in fact. For sure, the dress and shoes this student wore flattered certain...'features' more of her then they every would have on Catherine. Another smile came to his face as he gulped a little harder then he would have normally, saving only a passing glance for his wife's doppleganger before standing up, knowing he'd need to pace now to compose to himself.

"...which will be your introduction to Political Theory."

"Feel free to keep that, Tom," Becky whispered as the briefcase carrying man stepped through the doorway, smiling still. "That way you have one for later, as well." She gave a little laugh, grinning again. As the professor settled in, though, so did she, sliding back completely under desk and looking around as the others slowly realized who had come in. She listened as he gave his greeting, smiling all the while and glad to find that, for the most part, the man seemed nice. Oh good. It made a class so much easier if the teacher was cheerful.

She uncapped her pen, gasping a tiny noise as the entire thing flipped out of her hand and onto the floor. "Shoot!," she hissed under her breath, leaning out and trying to grab it. Tom turned and plucked it up, handing it back with a chuckle. "Thanks..," she whispered, straightening to find Professor Tourast looking at her with an expression she didn't quite know how to take. Holding up the pen, she reddened a bit, wondering exactly what she had done to get a stare like that. She slid down a bit in her seat, hoping no one else caught that. Certainly he wasn't upset with her on dropping a pen!

Syllabi were passed down the rows, Becky taking one for herself and sliding the rest back to the boy behind her. His phone number, email, office hours adorned the top of the page, expectations listed for his time with them, his rules on attendance. They all made sense to her, even the spots on legitimate excuse for missing classes. Doctor's visits, jury duty, and the like. All in all, basic things she had understanding of.

He explained further on all the paper's details, Becky doing her best to listen in, even jotting notes on the side of her paper as he told more and more. He asked for them to introduce themselves, starting on her side of the room. Becky listened as the girl ahead of her gave a quick intro, the guy behind taking the same cue.

On her own turn, Becky gave a little wave and smiled. "Good morning! I'm Becky Ellis. I'm studying criminal law." She looked back to Mister Tourast, smiling even more to him. He seemed to be a touch out of sorts. Not horrendously, but the look on his face seemed to sometimes show some type of distraction. She wondered if Professors had first day jitters too? "I'm actually. Really nervous about college. I'd love to hang out with anyone outside of class, if they're up for it. Maybe a coffee? We can go be nervous together!," she grinned, playing with her pen.

"If you'll pass these around." He handed out the course's syllabus, grateful for the minute or two of distraction as he scowled inwardly. She had to bend over, didn't she. "The expectations regarding attendance and participation are pretty standard across our fine institution, although as a general rule I tend to be fairly forgiving." A brief, hard look passes his face. "That doesn't mean I'm easy, though."

"There will be three papers, each worth about fifteen percent of your final grade. Your midterm will be worth twenty percent, and a final exam worth twenty-five." He frowned lightly. "The group project, which you'll notice is worth ten percent, and currently has an asterix next to it, may be removed entirely depending on my discussion with our department head." As much as he would accept teaching for this semester with the turmoil he was going through, he wasn't entirely certain he could direct and grade that many group assignments with how much he had going on. "If I end up removing it, your tests will each be worth five percent more, and of course I'll let you all know as soon as we have made a decision. I'll be using the university emails you were all given upon enrollment, unless you have a preferred method of communication that you're willing to share with me."

"My office hours right now are Wednesday from 1 until 4, but those may also be changing." With years of practice, he kept the disappointment out of his tone, although not from his eyes as he spoke. "I've got a lot going on right now, so it might even fluctuate from week to week - again, I'll let you all know in class or by other means." As public as his divorce proceedings had seemed to in, even his bitch of a wife had seen the need for discretion.

He spoke for a few more minutes about the courses' content, seeing a few keen minds - including his wife's lookalike - take some notes down, before he closed his description.

"This course isn't about dictating what you think - it's about examining *how* you think and examine things. This is why your first paper will be one describing your political view." Again, he smirked. "I've heard it all, so there will be no judgment or condemnation of what you believe - only how you approach it." He sat back on the desk, letting the silence linger for a moment.

"The class will be no fun if we're a room full of people who don't know each other - right now, you all know my name, but right now you're all just a bunch of faces to me. ]I want each of you to say your name, your major, and a bit about yourself, if you're comfortable doing so."

He listened attentively, giving each person a quick word of encouragement after they spoke, before he rested his gaze on an all too-familiar face.

"Good morning! I'm Becky Ellis. I'm studying criminal law." Adam tried to take her smile in stride, but even so he was a bit disoriented, lost in examining her features. She seemed to notice, as she was looking straight into his eyes as she smiled more, misinterpreting his look.

If only she knew. The sundress she had chosen flattered her features, and all Adam wanted to do was see more of the long legs that were tucked under her desk. Having lustful thoughts about students was a hazard of the job - it wasn't even the first time all class, with a brunette who had seemingly mistaken this class for a nightclub with what she'd chosen to wear - but it was different when it came to Becky, he knew that now. The thoughts he were having about her were too primal, too connected to his wife.

That's not fair to her. She's not Catherine. He vowed then to try to treat her no differently from any of the other students as she continued.

"I'm actually. Really nervous about college. I'd love to hang out with anyone outside of class, if they're up for it. Maybe a coffee? We can go be nervous together!." she finished, grinning as she fidgeted with her pen.

A nervous laugh came out, and it took Adam a second to realize it had come from him, and he quickly covered for it. "An offer I'm sure some would be wise to take you up on, Miss Ellis. Welcome." There were only a few more introductions after that, and he took a quick glance at the clock, seeing how much time he had left.

"We won't get into too much material today." His face returned to its 'lecturing' look, banishing the thoughts of Becky Ellis to the back of his mind. "Can someone tell me what comes to their mind when they hear the term 'Conservative'?" An eager hand shot up, and with that he started the back and forth dialogue, the time breezing by until the buzzer rang, signalling the end of class.

"Oh. That went by fast." And it had - he hadn't even gotten into half of his material, which gave him high hopes for the year. "If there's nothing else, I'll see you all next class...or during my office hours." He sat down behind the oak desk, as he had to be the last one out of the room, not watching the students as they went, worried he would catch another glimpse of his unwitting red-haired temptress. The class hadn't quelled his thoughts about young Becky Ellis, and her contributions hadn't helped either.

It wasn't her fault, though.

Becky listened as the rest of the class gave their own little backgrounds and reasons for being here, leaning her arm against the desk and nestling her cheek against her palm. That pen was still in her hand, idly twirled and played with as the torch was passed, various little stories and snippets of people's worlds coming into play. She happened to glance back up front again, seeing Professor Tourast looking at her. No, he was looking at the whole room. No. Her.
Was he still upset with her about the pen thing? She quickly set it back to the desk, a sidelong glance given back at him. Okay. No more playing with things in class.

As class finally came to an end, she picked her bag up from the side of her chair, glancing over to see Tom was already heading for the door. Tugging her small book bag again, she frowned as it seemed stuck- a small screw on the back of her chair having decided to snag into the strap and keep it pinned to the wood. "Oh, that's just great." She sighed, sitting back down and leaning over the back of the chair, trying to work the strap free. A tiny grimace came to her face as the strap decided to let go by snapping, a rip straight through the seam. "Really?," She sighed again, shaking her head.

She peeked over her shoulder, realizing now that everyone else had left the room. Everyone but the Professor. She frowned a bit, embarrassed to have lingered back for so long compared to everyone else. He wasn't going to make any comments about the whole pen incident, was he? Maybe she could beat him to it.

"Professor?" Becky just held her bag now, cradling it in front of her as she approached his desk. "I. just wanted to apologize for that. I really wasn't trying to be disruptive or anything. It was truly an accident. If you can't tell, I'm a bit. Of a mess." She glanced down to her bag, then back up with a slight frown. "It's all nerves from starting here, I promise. You'll not see another silly act like that from me at all this semester. I swear."

His reaction to the coffee statement during her introduction. She wondered.
"Sir, not to be forward as a new student, but. Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me at the cafeteria? Consider it a peace offering for being an accidental disruption." She smiled with that, swaying slightly from side to side as she stood before him. "Besides, I think I could really use a tour of the fastest way to get here. From someone who most likely knows it far better than I do. My dorm is right on the other side."

She hoped he didn't think this too forward of her, that she was trying to buy her way into good graces with him. In a way, it was sort of an attempt. More an apology than anything else, but also a chance to see if he was as strict as she was starting to think.

It wasn't entirely out of character for the classes' professor to stay behind, working at the desk. He was making notes in his book on how to adjust his second class before he'd forgotten how much they were behind, of who had raised points and who had stayed quiet. While participation wouldn't help their grades, it would help prepare them for future classes that could also be taught by him (and where direct participation was actually graded). Even in his dour mood, he could recognize that teaching this class would be good for him once his divorce proceedings finally ended.

Even if this was part of his routine, subconciously he knew what he was trying to avoid. The same person who was lingering far past the end of class, and who had strode up to his desk, virtually unnoticed as Adam's thoughs whirled inside his head. The sound of her shoes hitting the floor stopped as she reached the front of the class.

"Professor?"

Oh no. He looked up at her expectantly, letting the silence speak in a way that he couldn't.

"I. just wanted to apologize for that. I really wasn't trying to be disruptive or anything. It was truly an accident. If you can't tell, I'm a bit. Of a mess." It was then that Adam noticed the condition of her bag as she looked at it, frowning. "It's all nerves from starting here, I promise. You'll not see another silly act like that from me at all this semester. I swear."

"Oh." He looked down briefly at his notebook before closing it; he was all but done anyways and had no desire to stall too much longer. "Don't worry about it. It happens to all of us." He tried to smile briefly, but looking at her was hard. She was so nice, and just....

"Sir, not to be forward as a new student, but. Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me at the cafeteria? Consider it a peace offering for being an accidental disruption." A smile lit Becky's face as she swayed from side to side. "Besides, I think I could really use a tour of the fastest way to get here. From someone who most likely knows it far better than I do. My dorm is right on the other side."

It wasn't entirely uncommon for professors and students to have coffee, and Becky was just trying to be nice. She seemed to think she owed him something, and he quickly wanted to dispel her of that notion; she was just another freshman during her first class.

"I'll accept your offer under one condition." He rose up from his chair, putting his dark brown suit jacket back on. "We can have that coffee, but I'll buy." He put his notebook in bag as he continued. "I know you students don't exactly have a huge budget for things like this." he joked. "I'll be the judge of anything you 'owe' me."

When he said that, he'd meant it as a joke. So Adam could only wonder, as he slung his bag over his shoulder, why his mind briefly went to a very dark place, thinking about how much he really 'owed' his wife, and yet how much she insisted on taking from him anyways.

Stop thinking about her. She's not Becky. And Becky's not her. They walked together do the door of the class, and Adam let her through like the gentleman he was, although not without admiring the view a little before resuming walking at her side.

Becky was grateful to see him smile at her, hesitantly looking to his desk as his gaze quickly lowered back to his closed notebook's cover. It almost seemed like he was waving her off, at first. Maybe she was bothering him.

She started to shift onto her left foot, then her right, wondering if perhaps this had been a bad idea. If she had done something wrong, something that had offended him, she highly doubted that he would want to spend any type of additional time with her. Perhaps she was better off simply heading back to her dorm and wasting time until her next class a few hours from now.

Her bag had just started to shift in her hands for a better position to leave the room when he spoke up, a flat tone to his voice on conditions of his accompaniment. She glanced at him, a touch hesitant on what those might be as he put his jacket back on.

A smile came through with the exact stipulations being explained, nodding slightly and shrugging at his reasoning. "You do have a point, sir. I'm a bit low on funds at the moment. I just haven't had the time to go hunt down that part time job off campus yet." Her little laugh came through as he deemed the final judge of her owing things. "Well then. Let me know what the punishment would be, okay?"

She tried to tie together what remained of her bag's strap as they started into the hall, Becky slipping through the doorframe first and glancing a smirk back to her Professor. "Thanks for taking me up on this," She spoke up as they continued through the halls. "Say, do you happen to know if the University does paid tutoring? I could probably get a job doing that. I'm wonderful with Math. Not so good in other subjects. Probably going to need a tutor myself. Or two. Or three." She wrinkled her nose at that thought, realizing just how expensive this may end up being. "Wow. I'm starting to think I may need to find someone willing to pay me for letting them teach me. That would be way cheaper... and solve the whole job issue!" She smiled at that, tittering out another small laugh as they moved across the campus.

Another little peek was stolen in his direction as they walked, Becky trying to study his face without being too noticeable about it. He was quite the handsome man, and the rather firm look he had given his notebook earlier was a bit. Unnerving. More than that. Arousing? Was it even right to think that way about a man she just met, and a teacher on top of that?

Becky cleared her throat with a tiny cough to try and dispel the mere idea of it, smiling up at him again as they reached the cafeteria doors. "Sorry. Something. Just. Here." She tapped the cleft of her neck, an attempted forced smirk coming through. "So, that coffee. Let's find that."

"You do have a point, sir. I'm a bit low on funds at the moment. I just haven't had the time to go hunt down that part time job off campus yet." A light laugh escaped her as Becky finished responding. "Well then. Let me know what the punishment would be, okay?"

It took every year of his experience as a professor (and thus practice at the ability to keep a straight face during trying circumstances) to only briefly break into a smile at her choice of words, saying only "I'm sure I will." As he said it, he meant it as a joke, even adding a chuckle as he followed her out of the room, matching her pace as soon as they were clear of the doors.

"Thanks for taking me up on this."

"It's my pleasure." And he meant it, questionable thoughts or no. Professors and students walking and talking together, while not a common sight on campus, was not entirely unheard of so nobody looked at them too strangely as they walked together. "Truth be told, I'm surprised nobody else did." Especially Tom, the guy who'd borrowed the pen from her.

"Say, do you happen to know if the University does paid tutoring? I could probably get a job doing that. I'm wonderful with Math. Not so good in other subjects. Probably going to need a tutor myself. Or two. Or three." Becky continued as Adam watched her attentively, her brow furrowing in thought. "Wow. I'm starting to think I may need to find someone willing to pay me for letting them teach me. That would be way cheaper... and solve the whole job issue!"

"Don't be so quick to assume you'll need help." For the moment, Adam was grateful to have something, anything else to focus his thoughts on, and to encourage young Becky would do just find. "Take a week or two before making any decisions on what, if any kind of help you'll need - at that point you should have a much clearer idea of what kind of adjustments you'll need to make." He noticed her looking at him as they walked, and he turned quickly as she looked away.

"Always feel free to ask any of your professors or teaching assistants if you need help." He turned way. "Often it proves more effective to ask your instructors before hiring...."

It was at that moment that she cleared her throat, and he stopped abruptly, turning to her, looking at her questioningly as they neared the doors.

"Sorry. Something. Just. Here." The student tapped her neck, attempting to smile. "So, that coffee. Let's find that."

"It'll be no trouble finding it." He said. "What do you want? I'll go up and buy while you find us a table."

After she replied, he walked up to the lineup, keeping a watchful eye out for where Becky had chosen to set them up, bringing his focus back to the front of the lineup as he spotted her sitting down. The cafeteria staff were nothing if not efficient, and he walked over to their table a few minutes later, their drinks in hand. He'd chosen his standard black coffee, making sure he didn't mix them up - very few people liked their coffee without additions.

"Never appreciated the cream or sugar in this stuff. It's supposed to wake you up, right?" Adam slipped it slowly, letting the silence and taste linger for a moment. He looked around, appreciating the din of students going to and fro around them before focusing his gaze squarely back on his student.

"So, you said your dorm room is around here?" As she responded, he nodded. "I have a niece who's in the same building. She's a second year, though, so she would likely have a better room then you do." Another small smile. "Freshman tend to get the short end of the stick."

Adam hesitated again, as any bout of silence let the small voices in the back of his head turn to whispers, and he met Becky's look again. "So, Becky, tell me a bit about yourself. Have you chosen your major yet? Where are you from? What do you think of the campus so far?" He hoped that getting her talking would let him forget about everything that had been bothering him, although little did he know that it would do the opposite....

It was a touch of an esteem boost as Mister Tourast shunned her anticipations of needing tutors, his thoughts on trying her own abilities first and using teachers' help before turning to such measures. "I suppose I can see what comes of it," Becky agreed softly, glancing over to the tall teacher beside her. "Feel free to ask. So does that mean I can come asking you questions every afternoon?" She smirked a bit, shaking her head. "Joking, sir. Joking. I won't pester you, I promise."

He offered to get the drinks and meet her. She smiled and nodded, peeking over. "Just a small cup. Too much caffiene and I might need to be tethered to the chair for my next class. It may also be the heavy sugar I add, as well." She shrugged, laughing. "I'll find a seat!" And off she went.

Becky smiled as he joined her minutes later, taking her cup. "Thank you, Professor." Setting it down and taking up a couple sugar packets from the little container between them, she raisef her brows as he sipped the straight brew. "I couldn't do that," she noted, shaking her head. "I blame a sweet tooth." Pouring in her pouches, she glanced over once more as he inquired on her housing. She peered over to the large windows, then pointed off over the walkways and fountain. "There. Moore House. And a room mate I can't stand already." She made a tiny disgusted expression, then sipped her coffee. "Oh, you do? True on the freshman thing. Our room is so tiny."

This wasn't so bad. Not bad at all. He certainly was nice, certainly kinder than she had expected. The pen incident seemed to merely have been a matter of misreading his expressions, thankfully. She took another drink, peeking over the rim to him as he inquired on her. "Mm." She swallowed, setting the cup back down. "Well, let's see. Criminal justice is my major, my dad was a cop for a long time. I figure I can go for a department myself, or perhaps completely turn things on its ear and start writing criminal thrill novels." Becky's eyes raised for a brief moment, followed by a laugh. "Or something like that. I don't know. I just decided to copy him. He was deadset I come here."

Where she was from. "Buffalo," she noted. "I could have gone to U of B, but. Well. The Dad thing... Being this far from him makes it rough, though. I miss him already. As for the campus? This place is huge!" She laughed once again, shaking her head as she swirled a finger before her. "I need to draw a map until I get used to this!" A tiny sigh left her then, smiling at him. "Thank you, sir. Professor Tourast. Adam? Is... Is that alright? I just ferl strange calling you that. You're my teacher. There's a higher respect shown with Professor. And you deserve that, sir." She took a soft breath, fingers dancing on her cup. "But, really, thank you. You've really helped to soothe my nerves."

She looked him over once again, a faint frown taking to her lips. "And... Professor? I hope that. What ever was bothering you. Is something you can find a way to deal with, too. Maybe I can help. More coffee meetings or something." She smiled, picking up her cup to sip. "I. I would ask on you, sir, but I don't want to pry too much into a teacher's life. Not to come off as stalkerish, but I did read up on you, on the school site."

"I need to draw a map until I get used to this!" Having finished telling Adam about herself. "Thank you, sir. Professor Tourast. Adam? Is... Is that alright? I just feel strange calling you that. You're my teacher. There's a higher respect shown with Professor. And you deserve that, sir." Adam watched as she took a breath, her fingers tapping her cup nervously. "But, really, thank you. You've really helped to soothe my nerves."

Adam nodded in response. "I'm glad to help. The first couple of weeks can be very daunting for new students - it's easy to think you can't handle things too soon." He looked at her knowingly. "It's nothing more then what every other student goes through during their first few days. Just ride it out and you'll see that honestly nothing here is too overwhelming."

The silence stayed for a moment as she looked him over. "And... Professor? I hope that. What ever was bothering you. Is something you can find a way to deal with, too. Maybe I can help. More coffee meetings or something."

He looked at her curiously. Was it showing that much? He started to talk to shrug it off as nothing serious, but a little voice stopped him. "Don't worry about it. Teaching and seeing students learn tend to take me away from that." Bullshit. It hasn't worked yet. "It's just been a long few days."

"I. I would ask on you, sir, but I don't want to pry too much into a teacher's life. Not to come off as stalkerish, but I did read up on you, on the school site."

Again, Adam nodded. "It would be inappropriate for now, on your first day, at least." Although he was trying to be courteous, as he sipped his coffee he stared at her intently. "I'm your professor and you're my student; if you keep showing this kind of interest and initiative, maybe you can get to know a bit more. But only then."

He smiled slightly at her response. "It is a good idea to read up on your professors, though; too many students go in without having any idea what to expect and then they're surprised at how their professors behave." Adam looked at her in approval. "That's what makes me think you won't need a tutor - you seem to prepare well."

Adam lost himself in thought for a moment, considering one of her earlier statements, although his response to her would mislead her as to which one he was thinking about. Another moment of silence lingered as he looked at her. He was admiring her, but all his expression showed was that he was thinking.

"I'll tell you what, Becky." He took another long draw from his coffee. "I've been left without a teaching assistant for at least the first month or two-" another part of his punishment, Adam mused inwardly "-so if you're serious about giving me a hand, keep an eye on your email." He put the nearly empty cup down in front of him. "I'll let you know if I ever need a hand."

"It'll be good experience for you, too." He looked up for a moment. "Enough good work might get you a reference from me if you're lucky." Adam met her gaze as she responded, even as one statement from her kept repeating in his mind.

Let me know what the punishment would be, okay?

Becky nodded at his advice, playing with her coffee cup. "Thank you, sir. I'll keep it all in mind. I guess I keep thinking of everything being the same as high school. But it's not that way at all."

The glance he gave over the offer of more coffee meet ups mad her wondering if perhaps she had crossed too far with her guess of something being a trouble for him. Stresses of new students, the nervousness of first classes for him too- she could only imagine what his new school year was like.

His response to her comments on the whole name references, however, surprised her. Something about the way he said it. It just. Lingered in her ears. Why on Earth was she even letting her mind drift this way? She sighed a tiny sigh, finishing off that last few sips of coffee in her cup. Listening as he spoke, she smirked into the cup's rim, liking the little praises on researching and investigating. Another part to blame on dad.

Her cup had just returned to the table as he spoke once more, the way he began already causing her to look at him curiously. He had gotten lost in thought there for a few minutes, leaving her to wonder exactly what had come to his mind. It was a rather nice image, actually, watching him with his deep thoughts expression rolling across his features.

"Wait, are you serious?," She asked, her voice nearly a squeak as she stared at him. "Your. Your assistant? Oh wow. I would love that, sir! Oh, yes, I'll do my very best. I'll definitely keep an eye out!" She smiled as he spoke of possible references from the position, her head nodding quickly. "Absolutely, sir. I will do everything I can to make you proud of me. Don't hesitate to get ahold of me."

She realized then she may have been overdoing it a touch, seeming far too eager to be helpful. "I mean. You know. If. If you need a hand at all, and all that." She blushed a touch, looking back to her empty cup, only to catch sight of her watch. She had about 20 minutes before her next class. Time had gone by so fast!

"I know you have my student email, but. Here." She took out a paper from her bag, scribbling down a group of digits and passing it over to him as she stood up. "My cell phone number. I'm terrible at checking my email. Maybe it would be easier if you just. Call me." She paused, glancing over to one of the tables behind them, seeing two girls watching. Becky stood there a moment, slowly starting to realize how that had possibly looked. She had just given her phone number to a professor. A very handsome, ringless, professor.

The blush came back, an even darker shade now. "I need to get to my next class, sir. I hope the rest of your day goes well!"

"I know you have my student email, but. Here." Becky's movements seem stilted and overeager as she dotted down something on a piece of paper. "My cell phone number. I'm terrible at checking my email. Maybe it would be easier if you just. Call me."

Adam did his best to look puzzled, knowing that while it was common enough for professors and students to meet, it was somewhat uncommon for them to be exchanging phone numbers...or at least for a professor to get one of a non-senior level student. "Thank you." he looked down, grabbing the piece of paper.

The blush on her face only enhanced her features as she stood up. "I need to get to my next class, sir. I hope the rest of your day goes well!"

Adam only nodded courteously as she left, calmly putting the piece of paper in his jacket pocket as she watched her go, finishing his coffee as she disappeared from view. His mind raced as he frowned in thought; this was a dangerous line he was straddling right now; a first year student throwing herself at him innocently, not knowing the man she was looking to work with was fighting back thoughts of his own, trying to navigate a precipice that was about to get far, far too treacherous.

I'll see her on Wednesday, he'd thought. What could possibly happen in between now and then?

************

His evening, as constructed, had looked like a good one, he'd had time to change and shower after getting home. While the suit he wore to class would do for most normal social outings, Adam had reason for wanting to look his best; he had a date. His first since the unending proceedings had began, in fact, with a friend he'd know for a long, long time. She wasn't a redhead, but that was about all she had going against her; she looked *fantastic*. The little black dress, easy smile, and teasing conversation and moves told Adam all he needed to know; they had chemistry, and that the evening would end well if both were willing.

But they got up to her door, and when they leaned in to kiss, the physical chemistry was there as he felt her body melt into his....but his heart wasn't in it. This was the most physical affection he'd gotten from anyone in close to a year, and even with everything in place, something was wrong.

He smiled as he leaned back. "Good night." He said, and even through her smile he could see her disappointment at him not wanting to go inside. As soon as the door closed behind her, Adam cursed under his breath, muttering all the way back to his car.

************

This wasn't an entirely new phenomenon. Adam was back in his exercise outfit - a tight black shirt and black shorts, pounding into his punching bag, the large circular bag moving slightly with each blow. Despite his perfect taping job, he could still feel the blows, knowing he was hitting too hard, and needed to back off.

He didn't care.

Although he'd been separated from Catherine for close to a year, the physical intimacy had stopped long before then. Adam had never really been sure why, and had suspected she was cheating on him. It didn't matter now, as the combination of the thoughts of his wife and losing a chance to release some of his sexual frustration poured out of him as he slammed into the bag.

Eventually, sounds and pictures came to his mind's eye, but he kept fighting through them, breathing, grunting, and punching as they flashed through his mind.

He grabbed a woman, slamming her into a wall. Only shadow covered her body, but it was clear she was naked, with her arms covering her face, shrouded in long red hair.

'No, don't, stop, I'll do anything-'

He yanked her arms away, grabbed her roughty, and pounded himself into her, hearing her yell as her face was finally revealed to him as he fucked her, over and over and over-

Adam stopped as he realized it wasn't his wife he was visualizing.

It was Becky.

And what scared him the most was that he wasn't surprised. He leaned against the bag, sweat and heat radiating off of his body as he breathed in and out slowly.

Another long night.

*******************

After an uneventful Tuesday teaching his classes, pounding his punching bag again to fight off thoughts of Becky - and what was either welcome or ominous silence from his wife's legal team - Adam strolled into work. The sleepless nights were starting to drag on him, but he had managed to make himself look presentable for Wednesday - sans the tie this time around - with a grey brown jacket, light blue shirt, and dark grey pants. He had a larger coffee then normal, and his department head noticed it as he came in.

"Morning Adam."

"William." he nodded.

"You look like hell."

"Still going through it." he smiled grimly. Apparently he hadn't done quite as good a job as he thought.

A knowing nod. "If you need anything, let me know. We've got an empty floor due with some of our staff moving and restructuring, remember, so if you need to store anything here...or a place to sleep..." he cackled

"She doesn't have the house." Adam smiled. Yet. "Even a lawyer as incompetent as the one I have should be able to keep that."

William's look gave him no reassurance as he went to his office.

************

This time, Adam was the first one in the room. It was more his style, and, truth be told, he wanted to get through his day as quickly as possible; the restless nights were adding up and he knew he needed to catch up on his sleep, easy lectures or not.

The students filed in as he quietly sat behind the desk, taking only occasional glances to see if the room had filled up while perfecting his notes. A moment's silence passed before he realized the room *had* filled up, but he stood up in stride, gazing out to the room.

"Good morning, everyone." he smiled. "I trust that now that you've all had a chance to go through one of each of your classes, and get used to a staggered rotation, that you have a feel of what you want to take." He smirked. "I'm grateful that none of you have dropped my class." A wider smile at the few chuckles that escaped the room. "Yet."

As the laughs grew more profound, he stood up, his smile finally matching theirs. "I promise to not make you regret your decision. Now, how many of you did the assigned reading?" Adam knew very well that many students left the reading until the tests; although he'd never admit it himself, very often that was how he had gotten through his post secondary life. But he pointed at the first hand that shot up, his expression staying even with great difficulty when he saw who it was.

It was Becky. Not only had she shot her hand up, but once again she'd chosen a rather flattering outfit to wear. It wasn't that it was substantially worse then what the other students were wearing (such as the blonde in the first row who almost seemed to be bottomless with how tiny her skirt was), but it flattered exceptionally well.

Luckily, years of practice had Adam already well into his response after her answer. "And what did you think about Hodges' thoughts about European political systems in the late 20th century?" Another hard look. "Did you agree or disagree with his viewpoint?

For the moment, haggard or not, he was back into professor mode, and his look demanded an answer, right or not, from young Becky.

Becky woke to find her roommate already on the computer, her computer, and mashing at the keys so loudly Becky couldn't have slept even if she tried. "What are you doing?," she yawned with a frustrated tone, lazily rubbing her head as she glanced over. "Hey, careful. I'm still paying that off."

"I need to transfer classes."
"Oh? Going for afternoon?"
"No, I mean. Transfer. Completely. My ex is here and I just. I can't be around him."

Becky sat up even more, trying not to let the smirk over how the girl who antagonized her on transferring or dropping was suddenly doing it herself. "Aw. Really? Wow. That's too bad. I really thought we were connecting, too."

When she came back from her classed Tuesday afternoon, the far side of the room was empty. Becky beamed at that, happily plunking onto the bed and sighing. Even if she ended up with a new rommate, she was glad to be free of the pollutant who used to be beside her. Emptying out her bag from the day, putting away what needed it, she was already set on pulling clothes for tomorrow. Today had been the simplicity of jeans and a nice flowery top. Wednesday seemed a day for a skirt, a little black and grey plaid, and a fitted white camisole paired with a grey short sleeved sweater.
Professor Tourast an influence in that decision? Perhaps.



Another morning of waking early. But without an unwanted alarm of a restless roomie. Up, showered and dressed, Becky headed out for the day with a smile, cutting through the courtyard along the cafeteria's east side. A thought came to her, her smirk growing as she quickly ran in, ordering up a special cup to go before running off to her first class. Stepping into the classroom, the little brown paper cup in her fingers, she set it on the corner of his desk, nestled behind his piles of books and papers before taking her newfound favorite seat.

He looked up, a tired smile on his face as he greeted his students and came around the desk once more. A tiny laugh left her as he joked on any leaving students, crossing her legs into the aisle and letting a little black Mary Jane tap into the air as she listened. Nervous habits.

The readings. Had anyone bothered? She smiled, raising her hand with a few others. He pointed, asking her thoughts on the passages. She glanced around for a quick moment, thinking on the writings, then shrugged. "It's a hard topic... There are always those eho find fault in someone's idras, but it does have its key poibts to hold valid argument to those who debate..." She continued, citing as best she could particulars and trying to recall as much as possible. She smiled at him again as she wrapped up, folding her hands on the desk before her. "My thoughts, at least."

A soft scoff sounded behind her, Becky peering over her shoulder with a tiny scowl. "What? I did the reading. Maybe you should try it too." She glared at the guy rolling his eyes, then looked back up front. She wondered if he noticed it? She had remembered. Black. Just the way he liked it.

So much better than just an apple for the teacher.

"It's a hard topic... There are always those who find fault in someone's ideas, but it does have its key points to hold valid argument to those who debate..." as she continued, Adam lost himself in her eyes more then what she was saying, before she smiled to finish up her response. "My thoughts, at least."

Adam nodded at her response. "I can tell you weren't lying about doing the readings. Hodges' analysis does get in to why proportional representation or preferential choice balloting doesn't always lead to cohesive paliaments." He stood up, deciding that early on in the year would be the time to get the obvious comparisons out of the way. "On the other hand, with the number of complaints voters have here about our two party system..."

Another hand shot up, and the class progressed with him only prodding the discussion; debating was impassionted but civil, and he found himself paying attention...especially when a certain someone spoke. He took a moment to grab the small brown cup that had been left on his desk, taking a sip from it; even if he hadn't seen her leave it there, he'd know it was her who had gotten it for him. If it wasn't the fact that it was black, he could smell her on it, too.

Even as he listened to his students intently, chiming in when necessary, he had enough focus left to wonder if he should feel guilty about the thoughts he was having about his student. The dark, twisted thoughts about someone so nice...so beautiful...so young. She'd done nothing but be nice to him so far, but that was only making it worse. He hadn't dreamt of her while sleeping (yet), but he kept on wondering why her image had kept up while he'd been exercising on Monday night. Why he'd wanted to hurt her, punish her, when she'd done nothing wrong.

Roughly halfway through the class, the door at the back of the room opened, and the students were thoroughly engaged in a discussion about third party advertising...until they saw their professor looking curiously at the new entrant to the room.

Adam recognized him instantly, though he was sure most of the class wouldn't, as William smiled, putting on the charm that he was famous for. "Good morning, class. I'm Dr. Rente, your professor's boss." He met eyes as he walked. "And I need a moment of his time. Keep talking."

The students did, but in hushed tones that were no longer the ones of debate as William, making sure they saw nothing but smiles until he was in Adam's view only, looked at him grimly, speaking softly. "A call came in for you."

Adam's heart sank; William's tone was *never* this dark. "From who...?"

"Your wife's lawyer. You need to go home - they're taking the house."

"What...but..." Adam started to stutter, but a comforting hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Control yourself, lad." William smiled. "I'll cover for you here - but you need to go deal with this." Another sad look. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Still stunned, Adam grabbed his bag hastily, not watching as William met the class with that smile that could probably blind a flock of seagulls if the sun reflected off of his teeth right.

"Professor Tourast has some things to take care of. He'll be back on Friday, don't you worry. Let me tell you a story of the first convention I went to, and how I found out about how exactly political parties do business...."

It wasn't as if William didn't know the material; if there was someone who knew Political Science and Theory better then Adam, it was William. But the long tenured academic preferred to use his charm and stories to teach; he was the grandfather everyone had.

As Adam retreated from the classroom, he saw several faces forward (successfully distracted by William's arrival), but one worried one in particular looking at him, and he fought not to look back. He had to be strong and brave, for as long as he could, as he had a feeling the bottom was about to fall out.

Becky smiled again as he praised her on her thoughts about the readings, happily twisting the pen in her hand once more. The return of another nervous twitch. The coffee in his hand seemed so nonchalant, but the glance given her way seemed a private thank you, which in turn made her smile grow a bit more. She liked to make someone smile, and it was even better to have it coming from her Professor.

Others spoke up their own opinions about the chapters, agreements and disagreements, the chatter leading into open discussions on further examples and contrary ideas. Becky spoke up with her own thoughts and inputs, tiny frowns coming through when others shot down her ideas. A typical heated discussion amongst students getting into their work.

The older gentleman that peered in earned a momentary glance from her, but her attention returned to Tom across from her as he brought up a point of his own, asking Becky to back him up against the girl opposite him. Still, even as she gave her own opinions to it, her gaze couldn't help but fall on the two faculty members.

Something was wrong.
Something was wrong for Professor Tourast.
Her heart sunk immediately upon hearing it, the look upon his face.

The new man, the senior faculty member, Professor Rente, tried to pass it off as nothing as he took over the front of the class. His voice was calm and cheerful as he called to the students, but Becky's gaze couldn't keep from following the dazed Mister Tourast as he headed for the door. She suddenly wanted to chase him. To hug him, tell him everything was going to be alright.

She only knew this man two days. A day and a half, really. And already she felt like he was her favorite professor.

I'm here for you. Whatever you need, sir. I'm here for you.
She wanted to say it. If he needed help to move, to re-situate. Even if he just needed someone to sound off at, to get those thoughts bearing down on his mind vocalized. She had been young when her parents divorced, but she saw the effect it had on her father. He tried to bottle it all inside, and it came out in his work.
He lost his position for viciously beating a purse thief and leaving the man in ICU for nearly 2 weeks.

Becky's fingers tightened against her pen, nearly bending the plastic tube completely in half. She tried to keep focus, to listen to the temporary professor as he told his story to help relate their first lesson. It was just incredibly hard. She felt so incredibly bad for him, a feeling inside her that seemed to tell her she had to do something. But what was she supposed to do? She was just another student. One that offered him coffee. One that worried a bit too much.
The one who dropped things and tore bags.
He probably wouldn't want her help with moving or anything of that sort, considering that.

Class continued on as close to normal as it could, Becky trying to participate as much as possible. She made it through the rest of her afternoon without too much trouble, her thoughts only drifting at slow points and her lunch. Still, the concern on him returned later that evening as she made her way back to the dorms, trucking back across the park with her still-broken bag slung over her shoulder.

Maybe she would email him.
Leave a note on his door.
A voicemail?
Don't be the creepy student, she chided herself. Just a quick email. That's all.

She took out her cell as she walked, remembering the setup for faculty emails. Lastname, first initial, at Oswego dot edu.
Hi Professor. It's Becky. I just wanted to say I hope everything's alright. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know.

A touch. Strange to be sending.
Maybe she was better to delete it. Not do it at all.
"Nevermind," She sighed, pushing down on the button.
Except it was the wrong one. Message sent!
"AH! No!" She shook the phone, panicking as the envelope continued to fold and airplane away. Too late now.

OOC: This one got out of hand quickly; I probably won't write this much most of the time but I wanted to set the stage.

IC:

He flopped into his chair in exhaustion, unusually grateful he still had that.

Adam had arrived at what had been his house to find his belongings on the lawn. The ones not in the truck, anyways, as an all too familiar face sneered at him, holding a court order stating the house was to be sold, and the proceeds split...well, never mind that.

Finding a place to rent on short notice had been easy, if one could call his new home that. Sure, now he lived in a hole-in-the-wall disaster much smaller then what he'd been used to, with only two bed rooms, a small kitchen and living area, but at least he'd gotten all of the boxes and furniture in - at least the one's he'd been told about...

It had an unfinished basement, and overall was not nearly as impressive as what he'd lived in for the past...well, probably since ever. The one tangible benefit he could find was that he was closer to the University. In a much lower class neighborhood where nobody knew who he was, and he found the loss of status oddly disturbing. Adam had thought himself a man of the people, but cold hard truth revealed him in full, and he wasn't liking what he was seeing. Unpacked boxed littered the room, with furniture haphazardly placed; he knew he could move around whatever he had to tomorrow, and he hoped there were no more surprises. He reached towards a nearby table to grab his phone, trudging up to his bedroom

He was angry, he was frustrated, but he had one last thing to do before going to bed; fire his incompetent fool of a lawyer who had probably already cut a deal on his behalf. Deciding a phone call would not be the best way to communicate with the man who had supposedly been acting in his interests, he trudged upstairs to his bedroom.

A bed and dresser flanked an unimpressive 'master bathroom', and he moved around several more boxes before pulling out his laptop and turning it on. He had several emails, but one caught his eye, or at least the return address.

Ellis dot B at oswego dot edu.

He clicked on it, ignoring the other messages as the text came on the screen.

Hi Professor. It's Becky. I just wanted to say I hope everything's alright. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know.

He groaned, shutting his laptop and placing it back on the dresser. Fatigue, frustration, and failure dogged him as he let the image of Becky in her schoolgirl-like outfit dot his mind, her words playing back in her voice as he rubbed his forehead, his eyes shutting as he leaned back on the bed.

I hope everything's alright...

Well then. Let me know what the punishment would be, okay?...

If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know....

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands wringing together above him, as she smiled in his mind's eyes, bending over and letting her skirt ride up her legs, the sweater falling to reveal her bare shoulders as the words she had said became the ones he longed for her to.

I'll do anything...

Punish me....

With a growl, he leapt to his feet, wanting to hit something - almost going for the punching bag which stood by the basement door downstairs, intending to see the depths of his house, until he saw himself in the mirror. The man who looked back at him was not a university professor; he just played one. He was unshaven, uncomposed, a man gone wild. The punching bag, his wife, the one date he'd gone on in the past year - none of them would do him any good.

Looking back at that moment, Adam would never really be sure when he finally snapped. All he remembered was picking up the phone and dialing his lawyer, intent on finally firing his incompetent ass.

Then, another sleepless night.

************************

There was no sign of Adam being any different as he strolled into the department that day - although he had finally shaved, but he was in what William joked was his 'civilian' attire as he had asked for, and gotten, the day off. He had been summoned in anyways. He didn't make it in until later in the afternoon, and it became very clear what had happened when he found his office overwhelmed with boxes. Unlabelled ones, although he had started to put the puzzle together even as William came up from behind him.

"Apparently you don't have an address to send these to, so they were brought here...I figured that you could unpack them."

Adam sighed. "Thanks, but I can't do them all in my office." Corner office or not, there was not nearly enough room to go through the unlabelled mess. "I'd like to get rid of it here, if I can. Can you get them moved to the fifth floor?"

"Done. Jonny!" William snapped his fingers for the department's overworked intern. "He won't be too happy about moving those again...let him or Samuel know where you want them."

"Thanks." Adam moved towards the elevator, finding Samuel where he always did; smoking out front.

"I need you to open up the corner room on fifth for me."

"Sure thing." The old black man, a lifer of the University's maintenance staff, knew all the ins and outs of every building, and was a friend to everyone as he led Adam back into the service way, and up to the empty fifth floor. It was mostly clean although barren of anything resembling activity, as it was accessible by staff members only.

And only Samuel could unlock the doors as he slid the key into an old lock, and the door creaked open into a room that could easily have been Adam's office had it not been completely empty, an unoccupied desk and bookcase flanking several tables.

"Yeah, this will be enough room." Adam nodded.

"Let me know when you want me to lock up." Already, Jonny had wheeled in three of the boxes. Adam felt around in his pockets, finding the pocketknife he always kept handy as he cut at the tape of the first box to see what was inside of it.

He found himself lingering on the boxes, and before he'd even gotten through the second one (both of them had been books) Jonny (and whoever he'd enlisted to help him) had carted in close to thirty boxes. Now almost surrounded in them, he wiped his brow, knowing he'd need help to cull through them quicker.

Adam went to his phone as he cut open another box, his hand lingering over the control over Becky's name...all she needed to do was to open the boxes. Not look in them. Just cut, and move. She'd just be a laborer.

Even as he hit the button to dial her, he could detect his own bullshit, as the phone rang and she picked up.

"Becky?" He asked tentatively. "It's Adam...Professor Tourast." He squinted at his own correction as he willed his voice to return to its usual strength and conviction. "I was wondering if your offer to do 'anything' still stood..." At her response, he continued. "I need some help sorting through some things, and I think you'd be a great help."

After she replied, he brightened. "Great! How soon can you meet me in front of the Political Theory building? The one my office is in?" He let her reply again. "I need to let you in to where we'll be sorting. Oh, and dress casual - you'll be doing a bit of lifting and grunt work."

"Thanks a lot. See you soon." He flipped his phone closed, and breathed in deeply. His head was in a place where a line would not only be crossed, but leapt over.

Becky had some rearranging of her own to do.
After finding out that there was indeed no other students taking the vacant spot in her room, a simple question given a good twenty minute explanation on the rules and guidelines on the housing structure set in place, she was confident that no one else was going to take over the place left by her less than cordial roomie's sudden departure.
Donning a pair of rather beat up jeans, an old Guns and Roses tee, a pair of sneakers and loosely braided pigtails, Becky was setting about on her project. Happily sliding her desk to one side to view the court yard, her book case shifted to be more room from her bed, her clothes even managing to be divided for more space between the two closets, she was pleased to find that she actually had some decent living space now. "Probably almost as good as Professor's niece."

Just thinking of him caused a worry to pit in her stomach. The look on his face when he hastily took off from the class. There had been something wrong, but neither teacher would give much more into the situation. None of a student's concern, of course. Still, Becky was a worrier about everyone she met, and the small connection she thought they had made kept her even more on guard to such a thing towards him.

Picking up her computer monitor from her bed, she made a silent cursing note to replace this monstrous thing with one of those flat screens and brought it to settle on her desk. Crawling under, she began work on reconnecting the random jumbles of cords, jumping slightly as the phone above her went off, followed by a quick yowl as she hit her head on the withdraw.

Settling back on her heels, she hastily grabbed at the phone, an unfamiliar number on the screen. Local cell. "Hello?"

Professor Tourast?

"Uh. H-Hi." What else was she supposed to say? She looked at her computer curiously as he spoke, still rubbing that sore spot on her head. "Offer? Oh, oh that. Yeah! Of course. I'd be happy to help out, with anything." Sorting? "Absolutely! I don't mind doing that..." She peered up at the little clock on her bedstand, letting that rubbing hand fall. "Ah, give me about, say 15 minutes? I can be right over." She smiled at the further explanation on their job, nodding to someone who obviously couldn't see it. "Not a problem. I'm already a bit messy as it is. Right, okay. See you in a bit."

Ending the call, she looked back at the barely connected computer, then simply tossed the cord batch onto the desk. "You. Can wait." Getting to her feet, she brushed off any remaining bits from her clean up of closets and flooring, then grabbed her bag to head out. A short walk, really. No more than her regular morning walk to get to his class.

She was soon outside the building, lazily playing with the ends of one of her braids and watching the courtyard. More games of hackysack and Can Jam, a game she had yet to completely understand. She quickly turned back around as the door gave a curious noise, almost a little buzzing sound, starting to open up.

Adam strode out of one of the employee exits, his access card letting him through as he waved to Becky. "Hi. We can go this way, it's quicker..." And, truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to be seen around all of the time with the attractive redhead student at his side. It wasn't that it'd give entirely the wrong impression; but too much of the right one in this case. He was attracted to her, and he couldn't help himself. As much as Adam needed a hand right now, it as as much about seeing more of Becky, alone, as well.

They walked on in silence, as he admired her pigtails, wishing she'd worn her hair that way with the outfit she had on yesterday...he shook his head in a daze, knowing that she probably had questions as they got to an elevator.

"As I said, I've got some items to go through...." They walked through the sliding doors and he quickly realized hiding what he was going through was useless now as he hit the button for their floor. "...my wife left me, and I had to move out of my house." He smirked coldly at the statement, even as he knew Becky would feel sorry for him.

"She had some items of mine sent here since I technically don't have an address right now - at least, one that she knows about." They reached their floor and he led her into the deserted hallway. "So I've got a few boxes that I need some help going through..." They passed several empty rooms until they found the one he'd placed everything in; a large, until now unused corner office that would've passed for a decent lookalike to his own had it had the equipment, books, and other items that most professors had.

Now, it was all boxes in about one quarter of the room, and a couple on a large table. On the far end of the room, a couple of boxes stood in a corner.

"That's the 'not keep' pile." said Adam, before pointing to the corner opposite it. "That'll be the 'keep' pile...assuming she sent anything worth keeping. The idea here is I open and look through them, and you move them to wherever I order you to...and retape them if I'm keeping them." He nodded at a the packing tape in the far corner. "Generously provided by the University."

He stopped and met her gaze deliberately. "I know I'm asking you to help with something personal, but I'd appreciate some discretion...try not to peek too much into my things." He smiled as much as he could with how she was feeling. "I just needed a hand."

Adam brandished the knife, ripping open a box. "Let's get to it...."

"Professor!" Becky smiled warmly as he opened the door, a touch surprised at the rather hasty ushering of her inside that followed. Was this project that special? "Ah- yes, of course." She stepped in, hesitantly glancing at him as he let the door close once more and led the way to their work space. The building seemed eerily quiet from this entrance, almost like another part to the building altogether. She was glad to have him leading her; the girl's easily misguided sense of direction would have put her at completely the wrong places!

He brought her to the room, pushing open the door to let her in oncr again as he explained the task before them. Becky nodded, surveying the small ocean of boxes and books, and various scattered items. A stay and go pile, items that were of use. She had just begun to start for the section he indicated, when a further rundown of why he needed her help spilled forth.

Becky's hands rested on a still wrapped up box, looking at him with a frown. His smile seemed fake, like the one she knew so well from her father. It sent a shiver down her spine, her own head shakinh. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. I'll do my best to help out. I know it's not quite the same, but I know what my father went through. I was. I was barely seven, so I don't remember too much. Just dad having some..." She hesitated, looking back to him. "Well. You seem to be doing far better with it than he did, sir."

He was soon tearing into a new box himself, Becky taking her own tiny pocket knife out and carefully slicing into the tape to peel it open. More books, a photo album, a framed picture. She started to pull out these first few items, gasping as loose glass from the broken frame shifted and started to fall. Quickly setting it down, she moved the books, frowning at the intentionally smashed photo's glass. "Why did she even pack it, then?," Becky sighed, pausing as she looked at the woman. His ex? Becky played with a braid suddenly, surprised at the picture. At first glance she could have been her own sister...

How odd a coincidence.
Perhaps it was simply the hair, the skin tone. The facial build, the body type.
Strange similarities she saw herself too heavily reflecting. How old was the picture? At least 15 years?

She set it aside, shaking off the personal reflection and continuing on. More books, a few dvd cases of a personal collection. Indiana Jones' series, a few she didn't recognize, a movie cade baring a bound woman wearing a-
Becky hastily shoved that to the bottom of her pile, a quick flash of red upon her cheeks as she realized what she had seen. Professor's porn. Perhaps it was a shared interest, a video purchased on a whim together, stuffed into the box as a way to forget.
She lingered too long on a thought yet again.
"Books, movies, and photo albums, sir," she called out, piling the contents back in and glancing his way.

She slid it over, starting on a new box, trying to forget what she had seen in that first one. This one seemed clothing, hurried stuffing of his dress shirts into the box, with shoes and ties. Some other items were buried beneath, Becky stooping in a bit and peeking.
She quickly straightened, simply staring in the box.

That little red ball the movie cover woman kept in her lips.
There was one on a strap in the box, nestled atop a black gym bag.

"Clothes and shoes, sir," she called, that red lingering as she tried not to stare into the box.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. I'll do my best to help out. I know it's not quite the same, but I know what my father went through. I was. I was barely seven, so I don't remember too much. Just dad having some..." Becky hsitated, looking at him. "Well. You seem to be doing far better with it than he did, sir."

If she had known his dreams for the past few nights, she wouldn't say that. He watched her move to a box and tear it open, losing himself in her graceful movements before getting back to work. They worked in mostly silence at first, the tearing of tape and piling of items the only sounds breaking the monotony inside the ominous room. It wasn't dark, but it was gloomy with their entire floor abandoned, once a center for discussion and research, now, for the moment at least, abandoned.

He heard her say something as he placed a box aside, and he turned, only seeing after that she wasn't talking to anyone but herself. "Why did she even pack it, then?" She didn't see him looking, and he went back to the mindless task of sorting.

Eventually, she did seem to be talking to him.

"Books, movies, and photo albums, sir," This time, she was talking to him, and Adam moved to her table, taking the box from it as she slid it to him, and he looked inside. It was a smorgasboard of items, and he saw his Indiana Jones movies - he smiled only briefly, knowing he'd probably be watching them again soon- as well as shattered picture of Cathrine, when she was young. For the briefest moment, Adam lost his composure; this was one he'd really treasured, not only because it was one of her when she was young - but it was one he'd taken himself. Photography had been a hobby of his once, and as he fingered the broken glass, he put it down gently.

~Becky looks so much like her...except she's bustier then Cathrine ever was.~

He started to close the box off before seeing the corner of a movie he had thought wouldn't be there. Hoped might be the right word, maybe, and he pulled it out before placing it back in embarrassment. ~I hope she didn't see it.~ He turned back to her, carrying the box to the keep pile as he saw her cheeks flush red as she peeked inside.

"Clothes and shoes, sir,"

The blush looked good on her, and he went over there. "Obviously the ones she bought for me." he called out. "I got most of my wardrobe over to my new place last night." He shut the box without looking into it, a dark and devious idea forming in his mind as he looked at her.

"I don't need to look in here." He moved it into the 'not keep' pile; it's shape would let him keep track of it. "I don't want anything that'll remind her of me...." He was glad he was looking away from his young student now, as she would likely see the lie in his statement; the clothes were ones he didn't want to keep, but there were several things he was keeping that were reminding him of his wife.

Hell, being with Becky did.

"So your parents divorced when you were seven?" asked Adam. The silence was a bit unnerving, and he didn't want her to be nervous around him; being alone in an office that nobody else used. "That must have been hard for you."

Becky made him vulnerable, and he hated the feeling as he responded. "People change as they get older. I don't know what changed for us...." It wasn't a question he liked dwelling on, and he sighed.

He smiled at her sweetly, thankful for her tenderness as they continued working. With her back turned, Adam moved a box to the 'not' keep pile, discreetly checking the box he'd tagged earlier, the one Becky had been embarrassed at, as he looked inside of it.

He saw the black bag, and he took a look at Becky, busy sorting through something else - he took the bag out, and the object on top of it, discreetly moving it to the 'keep' pile inside of another box. He saw her still working, and smiled at her again. "Almost done." Adam knew now she'd seen the bag, and wanted her to see it again. The look on her face...

With only about a half dozen boxes left, he'd taken several emotional hits, but he was about to take a bigger one as he ripped another one...and saw more items of clothing. But not ones that belonged to him.

They'd belonged to Catherine. It was everything he'd bought for her. Knowing that it would take more then one box for that pile, he fingered the delicate items. She had done that deliberately, he knew. She wanted him to hurt, to see that she didn't value his opinions anymore, even with it being easier for her to just throw them out.

He squeezed his eyes shut, seeing that Becky would likely find a similar box, and as angry as he was, he pulled a bit of a dress out, ever so slightly, and didn't imagine Cathrine in it...but Becky. It's be tight on her, showing more of her cleavage, more of her legs...

~Eyes forward, Adam.~ He dropped it, looking at his student. "Anything in there?" He managed.

"I remember most things. Mom was... Angry. A lot. Said that Dad was ruining things." Becky paused in her pawings, still holding a few notebooks and folders in her hands. "She was drunk so often. Called me a giant mistake. That I was the biggest cause of all her problems. Dad was. Horrified. I still recall that fight. Other than that. Boxes. Lots of boxes. Like this. And dad saying it would be scary, but we would be much happier through it."

She paused, looking back to him. "I'm sorry. I think I went off a bit too much with all that. But. Things can change, for better ways." She smiled softly, a touch of a hopeful smirk. He seemed more stressed with all this, leaving her to wonder if her comments were merely making things worse. How much advice could she possibly think she could give to someone in his shoes? She shook her head, returning to her work. Looked like things from a home office, here. Notebooks and files, computer parts, discs and jumpdrives. Lots of jumpdrives. "Your office?," she asked, sliding it over.

Maybe it was best to stay quiet while she worked, say little to keep from accidentally upsetting him. Sometimes her mouth went faster than her mind, comments intended as innocent and friendly somehow coming out so askew. She reached for another box, smiling as he noted their progress and nodding.

That other box lingered on her mind as she worked, the item she had found. She didn't mean for it to keep coming back, to focus on what she had seen. The questioning on what else may have been there.
The thought of him holding that thing. Using it on someone.
Her professor. Had a side like that?

She jumped slightly as he called out again, hastily peering into the box before her. "It's- um... Looks she mistakenly sent a wrong box, sir. This is all ladies clothes?"





((Apologies for shortness, I am still at my mother's.))

OOC: Don't feel any pressure to post a certain length; if you're not happy, it can wait for another day. Real life > all, so no apologies for anything. Be well

IC:

"It's- um... Looks she mistakenly sent a wrong box, sir. This is all ladies clothes?"

"That was no mistake." replied Adam softly, slowly turning to walk towards her. His steps were heavy, and the sadness in his eyes matched the weariness in his voice. "Catherine is many things - irrational, relentless..." His eyes dipped as he looked in her box, looking at the items in side as a small, wistful smile briefly lit his face. "...passionate, unforgetful..." Another moment passed before he looked at Becky again. "..but one thing she is not is careless." He slowly closed the box. "This was deliberate." He looked down at his student, hoping he wouldn't need to spell out why.

But of course, being a teacher, he would. "These are all things I bought for her." A careless smirk. "Things that she has no want of now that I'm gone..." He closed it slowly. "And as such, things I won't need either."

They checked the last few boxes, with Adam finding the last one with lipstick and some perfumes he'd gotten for her, and he chuckled despite the dour mood that had overtaken their task. "Well, I definitely won't be using *those* items." He smirked, closing the box and moving it into the not keep pile. He'd opted to keep about six out of twenty-nine boxes, with twenty-two boxes of varying shapes and weights in the other corner. One empty box, which had been combined with a bigger box obviously used in haste, stood between them, and Adam slowly moved towards Becky.

"Well, that's it." His voice was hesitant and uneasy. "Thank you for helping me with something that was rather...personal, Becky." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I hope I didn't ask too much of you today."

"I'll pay you later - I don't have any cash on me right now..." Adam paused for a moment before an inspiration struck him. "...and if you saw anything in my 'do not keep' pile you want, it's yours." He all but threw the box at her in his haste to compensate her now. "It'll all be going to charity anyways, and if you have any use for it..."

There probably wasn't much if any practical use in the other pile - maybe a textbook or two, an old laptop that someone more enterprising then Adam could sell for a profit, and maybe some of the movies and books that he had no desire to keep but that some young girls might find more entertaining. Adam knew he couldn't let her take any of the makeup or clothes, though - that would remind him too much of his wife, even if they'd fit or suit her perfectly.

Before he could anything she did, however, his cell phone buzzed from the table. "Son of a..." He ran over to it, and seeing the caller ID knew he'd need some privacy. "I need a minute, Becky - just take what you want and as soon as I'm done with this call we can leave." He started talking before he left the room, his voice as calm as it could be only because of his audience.

"Hello. I didn't expect to be hearing from *you* again."

Becky frowned as he explained on why the dresses and such had made it into the spare office, his ex's method of thinking and the pain she was trying to cause him. She shook her head softly at the idea of it, resting her hands on top of one of the boxes for a moment. She had so much she wanted to say to that. But she held it back. It wasn't right to say, not her place at all. This whole thing was between them. She was simply here as a grunt at the moment. Just to help out. Not to put her own commentary to it all.

"Don't worry on paying me, sir. Really. I told you I would help out, however you needed. And you needed me. I would gladly come back tomorrow to help move all this to your place, if you like. I don't exactly have a car, but I could help bring it in or something."

She paused as he mentioned taking things from the outgoing bins, glancing over to them with a look of possibility on her face. She didn't want to come off as a scavenger, but there was a book or two that had caught her eye. "I guess a quick peek wouldn't be too bad. I'm sure just writing the word 'Free' with a big marker on them would help get it out of your hair in the quad, too."

A momentary look was given back to him as his phone suddenly went off, the look on his face as he went to see who it was one that told her this conversation was not something she wanted to even remotely hear. Quickly moving off to peek into the boxes, she barely glanced up as he went to the hall with his phone, not even hearing his hello to the caller as the door closed behind him.

She pawed through for a moment, taking out a few smaller books that caught her eye- a fantasy novel, a little book of poetry. She moved on to take a glance through one of the other ones, her gaze happening to drift toward the door's little window to the man outside.

Becky felt worried again. It was her, wasn't it? The one who made him feel so horrible. The thought left a knot in her stomach once more, trying to keep her mind back on those boxes than the conversation outside.

The books. A movie, a copy of Moulin Rouge. It had been forever since she had seen it. An old laptop that she might be able to get running again.

Closing the boxes back up, she sat down on one of the desks, her little stash of found things settled beside her as she waited for him. As the conversation seemed to.continue, her gaze fell back to the boxes. She had been stopping by second hand shops so often to get new-to-her clothes. So many of those dresses looked brand new. Why, there was a tag hanging right off the one peering from that box. If she just didn't wear them on days she saw him, there was no harm to it, right? Better to know which ones than accidentally buy it from her stops in and actually end up in it for his class. Just. One or two. There was no harm in that.

Then why was she trying to hide the fact she took the two little dresses? Folded and rolled, tucked under her arm, hidden between books and computer. A blush was already on her cheeks, a touch embarrassed on her snatchings. No, no different than a shopping trip, and as he had pointed out in kindness, she was broke.

Back up on the desk.
Legs folded and swinging.
That smile returning.

I told you I would help out, however you needed.

The words echoed in his head as he talked to Catherine. Her cold, distant voice made most of the conversation somewhat civil, even if hearing her voice again was pure agony, between his anger and his growing need. Still, he had no desire to make this any longer then he had to, and he steeled his voice.

"We're done. You and your 'lawyer' can have the house." He *almost* got to hang up, but Catherine got in one last shot.

"He's a way better lover then you were. He takes me places you never did..."

The call ended before he could get in another shot, but he had to take a minute to compose himself, leaning against the wall, rubbing his face. It wasn't entirely surprising, but to hear that she was sleeping with her lawyer - and who knows who else - was still a devastating blow. Another moment passed as he tried to put on a brave face before going back into the room.

The sight that greeted him, as tranquil as it was, didn't help. With a few items tucked under her arm, Becky was sitting on the desk, her legs swaying, smiling with her pigtails moving slightly with her. She was the picture of innocence, even as her dark voice echoed in his head.

..you needed me...

"I'm not surprised you took that." smiled Adam, motioning to the laptop under her arm. "I might as well have given it to you right off the start." With her declaration that she was satisfied without money, he was content with this 'trade' - with her taking a few books, a movie, and the computer, not seeing what was folded in between them - and calling it even. Another wistful sigh. "I just don't have the patience to fix or sell it now."

"As appealing as getting rid of this entire lot on the University would be, I have a feeling that the administration would not approve. That, and the sight of so many women wearing what used to belong to my wife...." He smirked, getting up as he did and motioning for Becky to do the same. "Well, that'll probably happen anyways with where these are going, but it will be a small comfort to not have a lot of my wife's former wardrobe on campus." They exited the room, and he locked the door behind them.

"I should be able to handle most of this myself." They made their way back to the elevator and he called for it. "There's few enough boxes that I can have them brought to my car and bring them in myself; the ones being given away I'll have to hire someone to take." As they made their way back down to the first floor, he looked at her again. "Thank you again, Becky. You've made this day a little less painful."

Adam hoped his disarming smile would hide the lie on that statement; every minute watching her, holding things that used to belong to Catherine, was agony. But it was a choice he'd made. Not one she had. He couldn't punish her for that.

Could he?

They finally made their way outside the building, and he stopped her again before she walked away, laying a hand on her shoulder. "If I want anything else from you, I'll let you know." He backed away with a wave. "See you in class tomorrow."

He heard her voice again, but it was the one in his head, with one last tease.

I would gladly come back tomorrow...to your place

If that happened, Adam knew there'd be no turning back. But as the smile hid his inner monologue, he knew there already was. The only question was how far Becky would go.

Her smile grew a bit more as he returned, though the look on his face quickly made it soften a bit. Whatever that had been about, he wasn't too pleased with. Still, his attempt at trying to smile for her made her want to give one back. She nodded slightly as he commented on the laptop tucked under her arm, glancing down at it. "My own could use a few upgrades. Maybe I can. Part them together or something." Becky shrugged a bit, clutching to the other finds as well.

She gave another nod as he dispelled the idea of simply leaving the boxes for students to go through, having not even considered the thoughts of higher-ups frowning upon such actions. His mention on the clothing, however, had her stumbling as she slid off the table. He didn't want anyone wearing it. But to put it back now- He'd obviously see it!

As he turned to lock the door, she quickly readjusted under her arm, feeling a bit more uneasy about taking the dresses now. What if she ran into him wearing them? What was he going to say? Maybe she should just pass them off to the second hand shop herself. When he turned back, she gave him another smile. "It was nothing, Professor. Really. Today started as a clean up of my own little spot, too. Boxing up and rearranging. I just saw it as an extension of that."

His hand surprised her as they reached the main door, Becky looking back up to him. "Sure. You have my number. Just give me a little heads up and I can help! I may be a bit tied up the rest of the night. I completely forgot about this big mess of cord- Oh, man." She made a slight face, then shook her head with a tiny laugh.

Those words suddenly started to play out further in her head.

Tied up.
That ball. That bag.
What was in that bag?
Why was it with that ball?
And that dvd.

She gave a sudden sharply drawn sound, looking back up to him. "Sorry about that. I sort of lost myself in a. Thought. I should get home. I'll see you tomorrow, sir."

Becky all but ran back to her dorm room, tossing the books and such upon her bed, the dresses held back for a moment as she looked them over. That knot grew even more. Taking these had been a mistake, a huge mistake. He had said she could have whatever she found interesting. At the time, it seemed these were just fine. But. What he said.

There was that chance.
That off chance.

"I'll bring them to the Goodwill right after class," She deemed aloud, nodding and rolling them back up, slipping them into her bag for tomorrow. The longer they weren't in her sight, the better she would feel.