Foot in Mouth Syndrome [Sean]

[Ides Alevi]

Fall 2012

Beep, beep, beep...

Ides sat up and turned the watch alarm off, almost mechanically. He stared across the room, blinking as his vision blurred, and eventually slipped back into its normal sharpness as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. He frowned, rubbed his face, and stared at the wall again. His watch had gone off, which meant he needed to be somewhere... what time was it?

He looked down at his watch, pushing aside the headache that was beginning to thrum at the back of his mind.

3:57

Crap, was it really already that time? He bolted to his feet and out the door, tripping over his feet as he went.

Always lost track of time. Needed to start setting his alarm earlier or something... Contrary to popular belief, he hated being late.

He slipped around a corner-- Wait, why was he slipping? Ah right, he'd left his shoes behind in the rush. Oh well, socks were good enough. Foot protection was overrated. However, he did readjust his pace accordingly, not wanting his face, or any other body part for that matter, to meet an untimely end with a wall.

Finally, he arrived, panting, at Dr. Neville's office. He looked down at his watch, hopefully. 4:01. Sigh. So close, yet so far. He ran a hand through his hair, in hopes of not looking a complete mess, then rapped a knuckle energetically against the door.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean also hated being late, which was why he was always early. One couldn’t have that philosophy without spending time waiting on other people, and he was long used to it. However, he appreciated when other people strove to be on time, particularly the students since so many of them lived in a perpetual state of liquid time (and then there were the ones who actively avoided his office, resulting in a visit from security to escort them down). He didn’t experience that often at Hammel, not even from other faculty members, although nobody expected meetings to start on time when trainers had to help students who could manipulate the flow of time or set desks on fire.

Hearing the knock at his door, he glanced at the clock on his desk. 4:01p.m. was as good as 4:00p.m. on the dot in his book, particularly at Hammel. He certainly wouldn’t hold a lone minute against Ides.

“Please come in, Ides,” he called out to the boy. Telepathy confirmed that was who was outside. Not that he required that, given how coincidental it would be for anyone else to knock on his door at the precise time that he had an appointment scheduled.

[Ides Alevi]

Please come in, Ides.

Ides opened the door and stepped in springily, perhaps a bit more jovial than most students who were about to serve their detention. "Hello, Dr. Neville!" he greeted him, with a faint, almost sheepish grin. "Sorry I'm late. Had an unfortunate encounter with a wormhole-- ended up in 18th century France!"

Just because he was having to serve detention didn't mean he couldn't have a good time, right? Or at least, that was his philosophy. And perhaps one day the teachers wouldn't be such stick-in-the-muds about him debating a debate-worthy topic in class, and then he wouldn't have to deal with detention at all anymore. Either that, or he'd learn that some times were not right for debates, and actually hold his tongue.

...

Ha, fat chance.

"How are you today, sir?" He gave a lopsided grin, fully meaning the inquiry. Growing up, despite his tendency toward debate and bluntness, he'd still had manners expected of him, and those he still tried to maintain with his "sir"'s and "ma'am"'s to his elders at least. He wasn't sure how well he did otherwise, but intention was at half of it, anyway.