Heavy Footsteps [Jake]

[Maxwell Esposito]

Max wasn't happy that he had detention again. He never was. He was even less happy that he was assigned to grounds keeping duty again. Dr. Neville said that Miss Raines liked working with him. Max knew that was bullshit and she got a kick out of the student's grumbling. Miss Raines had left Max alone to finish his part of the work by now though, and warned him that if his results were sub-par, she'd have him back under her instruction as soon as possible. 

So here Max was, pulling weeds by the bleachers near the training field. Thrilling, really. Luckily, though, not many people were out today and it was relatively quiet. There was always creatures running around whose little annoying noises and little annoying feet couldn't keep out of Max's ears. But those things were less irritating than people's voices or rushing water or footsteps in the hall. 

He was content with the noise level, that was until a consistently growing 'thud, thud, thud' hit his ear drums. He looked up from his trash bag full of weeds and dirt to see a figure in the distance. It was hard to know for certain, but with how the volume of the noise was growing, Max assumed whoever was jogging was coming his way. He groaned slightly, not happy about that prospect, and continued to pull at the weeds Miss Raines insisted he eradicate. 

The 'thud, thud, thud' got louder and louder, much to Max's dismay. He tried to control his hearing, to very little avail, and looked up again to see if the perpetrator would stop coming toward him any time soon. This time, the figure was much closer - about 30 yards away, and Max was able to tell exactly who it was drilling a newly former migraine into his head. "Could your feet get any louder, Tapper?" Max yelled over to the boy. He knew Jake... they had plenty of classes together. And while Max wouldn't say they were friends, Jake had at least not done anything to get under his skin yet. "Are you wearing steel-toed boots or something? Christ!"

[Jacob Tapper]

The field was indeed rather empty that day, and it was in those moments that Jake best enjoyed its amenities. Jogging - a healthy habit he'd developed several years ago as a good way to exercise and let his mind wander - was best enjoyed on one's own, Jake believed, for it allowed him to have some time to himself, to keep his own pace, and think up stories to go along with some of the more interesting visions he's had of late.

He was completely unaware of Max's presence as he made his way around the track, inhaling and exhaling in time with his footsteps. He sometimes listened to music while he jogged, but it was such a nice and quiet day that the brunet didn't feel the need. It wasn't until he heard someone yelling that he looked around, trying to determine where the distant voice had come from. It didn't take him long to find a somewhat familiar face scowling over by the bleachers. Had Max just asked him to run quieter?

"What are you, hung-over?" He yelled back, eyebrows furrowing, as though that were the only possible explanation as to why Max thought he was being too loud (he wasn't sure if he had ever learned about Max's enhanced hearing, and if he had, he didn't think of it now). He wasn't actually mad, though - like most guys his age, he didn't take stuff all that personally. He continued jogging until he was closer to the other boy, coming to a stop at the side of the track nearest to where Max was working. The sudden stop required Jake to take a few deep breaths; he usually spent some time walking as a cool-off after his longer jogs.

"What are you doing?" He asked between huffs and puffs, taking a few steps through the grass to stand next to Max. It looked like he was pulling weeds - a pretty obvious answer to his question - but he couldn't imagine why anyone would want to do such a thing.

[Maxwell Esposito]

Max rolled his eyes at Jake's response. Sure, the other student probably didn't know about Max's ability. They weren't close or anything. But the fact that Jake would assume right off the bat it was because Max had been drinking was a little more than annoying. Max didn't do much of that - it was much harder to get alcohol at 16 than to bum a few smokes like he'd been doing. That was Max's preferred vice for sure.

The footsteps came closer and closer until Jake finally slowed down and was just a few feet away from Max. Max threw another weed into his garbage bag a little aggressively when Jake asked what he was doing. And even Max could tell the question was more of a 'why'. "Fuckin' detention," Max mumbled, kicking at another weed, not bothering to bend down and pluck it like he'd been told time and time again. "Apparently Hammel is moving away from keeping us locked in a room like criminals to using us for free labor," he explained.

"This is my third time out here in two months and I dunno why they won't just fuckin' spray these things with some weed-be-gone already!"

[Jacob Tapper]

Jacob smirked as Maxwell explained that he had detention. He really should have guessed: though they were not terribly close, Jake knew Max well enough to know that he wasn't the sort to stay out of trouble for long. (How thrilled the enhanced hearer would be to know that was his reputation.) He listened with mild interest as the other boy continued explaining that he was assigned groundskeeping duties these days instead of regular detention. The way Max put it, it actually made a lot of sense. "That's not a terrible idea," he couldn't help but say. That was probably scant comfort to the one doing the work.

He tried not to laugh at the outburst that followed: Max seemed to be kind of high-strung compared to Jake, who was usually fairly laid back and, in fairness, didn't have much worth worrying about. He was aware that he only interacted with the other boy on select occasions, so this impression might not be the most accurate one, but it had stuck and he sort of viewed Max through that lens now. "What'd you do to get in so much trouble, anyway?" He asked. He had to admit to being curious: he'd never gotten detention before, much less detention three times; he wasn't even sure what one had to do to get this type of punishment. He continued watching the boy work, the idea of offering to help never so much as passing through his mind.

[Maxwell Esposito]

Max knew what his reputation was. He didn't need the likes of Jake to tell him. Of course, if the other boy ever felt the need to remind Max of the situation then he'd probably be the next to face the anger bubbling inside of Max. Usually the comment Jake threw out would anger Max as well, except for the fact that he agreed with the opinion. Making Max do grounds keeping work made a lot of sense. He wasn't happy about it, but it made sense. It was, in fact, not a terrible idea. "Yeah, it makes sense, just blows bein' the one doin' it," Max stated, tossing the garbage bag to the side for the time being, wondering if what he had done would be enough to please Miss Reins.

Max grunted when Jake asked what had gotten him in trouble. It was hard to keep track of, honestly. While most of the little things Max did didn't throw him directly into detention, they certainly added up - and there were quite a few teachers who were always keeping 'score'. "Uhm... I think this was because I called my History Professor an idiot... but to be fair he's kind of an idiot," Max amended in the vaguest of defenses. Of course, the actual conversation with his professor wasn't exactly what landed Max in detention. It was just the straw that broke the camel's back. It was also the sleeping in class, the 'cheating' on tests and quizzes, being late, his tone when he answered questions - it all added up. "It's better than the last detention I had where Dr. Neville made me write a damn essay."

[Jacob Tapper]

Jake could only try to sympathize with Maxwell's situation: as the sort of kid who generally didn't get into trouble, the brunet didn't really know what it was like to have detention, or really any sort of disciplinary action. That said, he wasn't a stranger to being on the outs with a teacher: he wasn't doing so well in math class, and his teacher was well aware of how little effort he was putting in towards improving. So she probably wasn't his biggest fan, but the transdimensionalist would never act out in class. Come late, maybe, but not act out.

Thus it took Jake by great surprise when Max admitted to calling one of his teachers an idiot. "Whoa, dude," he said softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Call Jake sheltered, but as far as he knew fighting with a teacher was probably the easiest way to get into a whole mess of trouble. He continued listening until Max was done talking, though, simply shaking his head again at the mention of having to write an essay. Dang, that was harsh. But knowing Dr. Neville, and knowing Max, it had been appropriate. "Have you ever considered, like... not getting so much detention?" He asked, arms folding across his chest thoughtfully, head cocking to one side. The question was meant somewhat sardonically: obviously Max was well aware that his behavior had consequences, yet for some reason had chosen not to change said behavior. Jake didn't think he'd ever understand this guy. But he was also aware that it wasn't necessarily his business to. "What was the essay about?" He asked, unable to curb his curiosity.