"Oi, Ulqui, I still don't get this shit."
I didn't know whether he understood I wasn't going to put any effort or he simply was an idiot. French? Please, who needed such a useless language? The only good thing about the French was that compared to the flag of his country, it was much simpler to draw and had the same colour scheme.
Yes, Nnoitra Gilga was your average fellow American.
"Try it again." Was the curt response I received. Really, how boring. I peered at the boy, studying him. Green eyes, raven locks that matched my own, white skin. The first time he met Ulquiorra, he thought the teen must be albino. However, green eyes and perfect vision weren't usually the case (his hair and eyebrows could've been dyed). Also, the fact that no veins were visible through the skin that lacked pigmentation had thrown him off. Maybe the boy had never been in the sun too long.
"Tch," I looked back at my paper, clearly frustrated. It was a verb exercise. Fill in the blanks, practically. The infinitif had been given at the end of each phrase, now all that was left was to conjugate it to it's past tense. Biting softly into the eraser at the end of the pencil – a stress reliever in a way – had not gotten any answers into my head.
Thud.
I raised an eyebrow, looking at the green book that had been dropped not too far from my hand. Beschrelle, L'Art de Conjuger. I opened it hastily to the last few pages, searching for the verb penser. To think. Once the verb had been found, flipping to the page number that had been written beside it, finding the proper personal pronoun and writing the answers down was a breeze. And the same was done for the next question. And the next task.
"I expected you to use the first verb as an example."
"Sorry I'm not as smart as you." I retorted.
"All you had to do was know how to conjugate the verbs avoir and être. The teacher explained it in class the other day."
"Yeah well, look here." I caught the pale teen's eyes, not breaking the eye contact as a thought made it's way into my head. "That class," French class, obviously, which was taught by a boring young woman that was far from hot or pretty (another reason for which I didn't pay attention), "Is fucking boring." His face didn't waver at all. "And really, I'd rather get fucked by a black guy than have to go through that class." Don't get me wrong here – I'm not racist! I'm just putting stereotypes into play. "`Cause at least if I get fucked by a black guy, I'll learn something. In that stupid class, I'm not learning anything."
"And just what could you possibly learn?" Ooh, a reaction? Maybe the ice prince had become curious.
"I'll learn that I'd never want to get fucked by a black guy."
If I was in the company of my friends, they'd certainly be laughing hysterically. After all, I said the whole thing with a straight face. However Ulquiorra remained silent, the corner of his lip giving a slight twitch. Perhaps I had been hoping for too much for some sort of laugh, even a smile or chuckle would've done the trick.
With a Beschrelle in hand, completing the rest of the tasks given was easy. The reason I hadn't done that earlier was because I couldn't be bothered to go to the school's shop and buy one. I blame Harribel – I had actually been aiming to go during a lesson I was planning to skip but then she transferred to my class. How could I resist the eye candy?
Thinking about her had brought a perverse grin onto my face. Hell, I almost started imagining things I'd to her. There was also this one girl with orange hair, but Grimmjow had already called dibs. But of course I wasn't limited to busty women, as long as there was a vagina for me to enter, I'd be great. And if the chick wasn't ugly, obviously. Maybe I'd but a paper bag on her head if worst came to worst?
"No wonder you're a skirt-chaser."
It came out of the blue, I certainly wasn't expecting it. Were they back on the black-man-fucking thing? Yeah, probably. But skirt-chasing, it was the truth, but probably not due to the thought of another man entering my... I shuddered. This was no time to be visualizing. No, I simply liked girls because I did. And the fact I'm an infamous skirt-chaser is thanks to raging hormones. Trust me, I've tried keeping it in my pants but to no avail.
"Well, if some guy tried to take you from behind, wouldn't you want to start digging girls?" My tutor merely shrugged as I gaped. No way, could this guy actually enjoy gay sex? Even at the receiving end? Making a grimace, I looked down at my paper. It was the last question on the recto-verso sheet and I was eager to finish it so I could be out of here. Nommez trois verbes irrégulier. Irregular verb? Crap, did she even mention any? Okay, first group was the ones that finished in ER, second was IR... right? So anything that 'didn't end in those letters.
I looked at the verbs given to him in the previous task. That made things easier. Boire, prendre et – I searched for a third one but to no avail. "Voir," I wrote it down, then asked why. It ended in IR, didn't it? "OIR is another ending, so they all take part of the third group. Nodding my head, I stuffed the paper into my bag. Shit, these hour-long lessons were a pain, forced onto both teens as well. However, Ulquiorra benefited with it, it went towards his community and service hours while I received nothing. Joy. I was already out the door when I heard the shorter one call my name.
"Oh, Nnoitra?
I turned around, gazing at him uninterested. "I wouldn't mind." The door was then closed as I had to think about what he meant. My brain racked through our previous, short conversation and then it dawned onto me. A shocked expression first came onto my face, but then I gave a hearty laugh. The boy should be glad he wasn't homophobic either, unless a man was after him.
"See ya later, fag!"
