tw: English and French swears. Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. Trying for another Connoisseur story!
Dashing down the deserted corridor, I attempted to soothe my flyaway curls. An extraordinarily stupid idea, it transpired, as they bounced back up, not having a care in the world about my reputation. I swore loudly, racing to the fifth door on the right, my legs acknowledging that I was late, and deciding to give in instead of arceus forbid, to do anything actually useful. The cramp in my stomach was clearly not rooting for me either today.
I wrapped my hand around the brass knob, my other hand clutching my stomach, and pushed it open.
It appeared that I had interrupted our teacher in mid-sentence, which I personally didn't mind at all. He wheeled around on the heels of his feet, and his thin (possibly plucked?) eyebrows arched in recognition. "Burgundy Bouchet," the lofty voice came, "As much I appreciate your presence, could you not endeavor in a more punctual approach?" The class sniggered, and I rolled my eyes in response. Seriously, "punctual approach"? Who does he think he even is? I marched up the stairs and took the nearest available seat, which was unfortunately beside a gang of "refined ladies" who stuck their noses up at me. I forgot to mention a minor detail, that no one in the Connoisseur Association has time for the "Princess of the Tasting World", i.e moi. I kicked my satchel under the table and took out my textbooks. Slyly peering over to my neighbour's open textbook, I flipped to the right page and began to read, in a vain attempt to cut my attention off a particular voice. Unfortunately, when you are dealing with the devil incarnate, such matters are impossible. I had finally grasped the belle rank of A-Class, and now to further my position to the parfait S-Class, the gods have turned against me and damned me to survive the hell that is being taught by pure evil in a ridiculous chartreuse bowtie! There I was, the image of purity with a dash of magnificent beauty (okay, let's not jest, a dash is far too meagre to be describing moi) frolicking in a field blooming with delicate daises, the cherry blossom petals stroking my flawless face as they descend from the trees. Alas it is not meant to be, my world is shaken upside down, as a large très laid monster curls the corners of his lips into a gruesome sneer as he destroys my paradise. He strikes me, and I fall to the ground. Despite being clearly impoverished in this scene, I am still clearly beautiful. My face is also, surprisingly unscathed. One may argue that that is slightly fanciful, but when you are dealing with beauty, the pragmatic world is blown away entirely. Anyways, here he is, claws at the ready-
"Psst!" A hiss interrupts my thoughts, and I blink, disorientated. I turn to the source, and see the only friendly face in this entire room. Styling gel wafted into my nostrils as we locked eyes with another. Not even Undella's clearest water could compare to the sparkling azure irises that I gazed into. His name was Kyle, and he was one of the few foreign students in the Association. He initially arrived over here to Unova on an exchange program of some sort, got interested in the
]Connoisseur profession, and now does it alongside contests. He placed a scrunched up note in the palm of my hand, and I immediately whipped around, in case the devil's supernatural eyesight managed to catch us on his radar. Hitching my textbook to stand on my desk, I unwrapped the piece of paper. There, in Kyle's joined handwriting were the words "Hey baby- check out the girl directly in front of you. Call the fire brigade quick!" I peered over my textbook slyly, and then snorted into it when I saw what he meant. Sacre bleu, is she trying to out do a Moltres ? "Miss. Bouchet?" Shit. I straightened my back, and reluctantly glanced at our teacher. A millisecond was enough, so I focused my sight on the poster behind him.
"Could you please read out the next paragraph?"
I coughed lightly, knowing I was doomed. I picked a paragraph that I believed we were on, and began to read, "When running a Connoisseur shop, remember to be inviting to the customer, and not intimidating-"
"We're on the paragraph after that." The class tittered and I flushed. I bet that absolute garbage can of a teacher is getting a real kick out of this.
I sighed under my breath, and read aloud, "Loin des yeux, loin du cœur… the parting words to your subject must have an everlasting impact…"
"I hate him!" I exclaimed for the fifteenth time that day. "How dare he just humiliate me like that?" Kyle and I were sitting together at the café in the Association, which serve très excellence lattes. Kyle shook his head. "No idea, do you think he spotted our communication methods?"
"Yes, yes I did." I almost screamed when the gatekeeper to hell sat down next to us both. What on earth was he doing? "However, no need to shrink in such an apprehensive taste, you will discover that it is your companion that I am looking for." I coughed on my latte. If it's about the time we egged his affreux bicycle, all I am going to say that that was a fortnight ago by now. Also, Kyle supplied me with the eggs.
"Ms. Bouchet? Could you please come to my office?" I internally groaned, and then accidentally externally groaned. Realising this, I coughed quickly, and I powdered my voice. "Yes, sir." I commented, trying not to get sick by using that honorific on him.
He stood up, and I glanced at Kyle in desperation. He grimaced at me in return.
This is my death sentence. I swiveled around, picked up the latte, and was about to march after Cilan, when Kyle asked, "Are you bringing that latte to do what I think- no, no I know, what you're doing to do?" I winked at him.
I hurried after Cilan, whose leg-span was incredible, not that I spent time looking at things such as my teacher's legs, to his office.
The office was the epitome of him, by the way; a good-for-nothing, pompous fool who duped everyone with his artificial kindness just to lure them into his wicked cave. I perched myself on the armchair, and crossed my legs, placing my latte on the table next to me.
He sat down on his long leather armchair behind his desk, seeming more like the godfather than a teacher. I bet he fancies himself as one.
I noticed he had my file out on his desk. What, was he stalking me now?
"Burgundy," he started, with a small shake of his head. Dropping all formalities at once? What a connard. "Firstly, though I am delighted you've come this far, it's been such a pleasure to have experienced your journey with you…"
Is he referring to the time I cried against his chest in the Gym? I thought we'd never mention that ever again!
"I… I feel that despite you being an A-Class, you have not yet grown into the role. That is, succinctly, you haven't matured to become one." Excuse me?!
"This breaks my heart, and your regular lack of punctuality along with it.
Burgundy, you have, as you always have had, a secret ingredient of your own. I knew I wasn't wrong to give up on you, but… I feel that something is restraining your true performance. I feel that…"
I stood up. I had enough. Acting under the hallucination that we were friends? Having the absolute cheek to tell me this, teacher or not? Sickening!
"Burgundy?" he croaked wearily. I shook my head, and turned, inching towards the doorknob. "No, no, no," I spat out furiously picking up my latte, "I am not taking this, no, no, no…"
In retrospect, it may not have been the most mature move, but could I help myself? However, as my hand wrapped around the knob, a palm belonging to him slammed against the door's paneling. I turned my head a fraction, the shivers tickling my entire body. Cilan's evil spirit was treated like a condiment; use it sparingly for maximum effect. "Burgundy, you leave me to this. You will be taking remedial lessons with me, starting at 1.30 p.m. sharp tomorrow in my office, and if you don't arrive sans haste, ah… I will be disappointed, and my disappointment is… an instant fail. "
In spite of my fear, I gritted my teeth. How dare he bully me like this! My arm reacted immediately, and I flung the remainder of my latte into his face. "Like hell it is!" I quickly exited the room, and spirited down the corridor as fast as I could.
An extraordinarily stupid idea, indeed.
Okay, more than a few notes, my apologies:
*Despite the severely convenient remedial class trick, I don't intend for this fanfiction to be overly romantic; you probably won't see a kissing scene. So, if you're hoping for that, er, sorry? It is still unknown if I will explore other shippings, I will explore other relationships though.
*The original calls the institution "the Sommelier association" but I hadn't any idea what the dub refers to it as and bulbapedia was surprisingly fruitless to an answer, so? If I'm incorrect, and there is a name, let me know.
* Kyle is, yes, the same Kyle from the Wallace Cup. Chapter 2 will explore their friendship more.
* Bouchet is another name used for the Cabernet Sauvignon grapes. Also, alliteration!
* About the "I cried against his chest", there were a lot of different staements for that one. The first was the rather frisky "we got to third base"… but I thought, she'd like him a lot more if they did, heh heh…
*Oh, a note on all the French used: Belle- Beautiful, Parfait- Perfect, très laid- very ugly (please don't tell me about French grammar, omfg), Lojn des yeux, loin du cœur- out of sight out of mind, affreux- awful, Connard- either fool or bastard (probably bastard in this context, oops).
* Their use of language changes depending on the mood. That's why it is… erratic.
* This won't be battle-orientated. I love battles, but I can't write them to save my life- that's why I left Odd Tastes where I did…
