So...I guess the goal here was to make this chapter a LITTLE bit happier than the last one, and so I decided to work a little more with Pitch. This chapter also features a few cameos from other characters, so see if you can figure them all out, I guess?
So, yeah, a bit of a slight detour before I drop off the grid for about a week. Hope that this somewhat makes up for the last chapter.
Hope that y'all like it?
Something seems off about Professor Frost today, Jaime notes, sitting in the front seat. He just looks more tired than anything, and hasn't even threatened them with an obscure piece of information that may or may not be on their next test.
And he's not the only one to notice. A tall blond leans forward across her desk, scrutinizing him with her dark blue eyes. Next to her, a dark haired boy gives off the general impression of disinterest, but the firm line of his jaw tells of concern. And Katharine looks a few seconds short of leaping from her seat to confront their professor.
Not for the first time since he started taking this class, Jaime finds himself chafing under the strict line that must exist between student and professor while in class. They can be friends, yes, but so long as one holds the other's grade in their hands, especially for an intro-level course, it's difficult for the two to be close.
One of the most distinct differences about today is Jack...Professor Frost's feet. As in, Jaime can't see them. Frost is wearing shoes, and not sandals or flops, but large, clunky combat boots that encase his leg all the way up to his knees. Following that, it's jeans. Frost always wears shorts. He always complains about the lecture hall being too hot, and that if he had his way, he'd make it a "balmy" five degrees. Celsius, he says. Frost says that he's not so brutal to go any lower than that, even if it's still too warm.
And finally, he's wearing coat, instead of his normal ragged hoodie. Frost's face is pinker than usual, which makes Jaime wonder if he's too warm, and if so, then why is he so layered up?
Curiouser and curiouser.
The class ends, and most of the students stampede to leave for their next class. Jaime lingers, slowly packing his bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone go down to Frost, place her hand on his shoulder, and starts to talk to him in a hushed voice. The professor lowers his head, and leans into his grip, relaxing enough to rest his head lightly on her shoulder. It's especially odd, as Frost always seems to have made a point of never making contact with anyone. Even in office hours, Frost always seems to hand him things without touching him, even if it becomes inconvenient for both of them.
Who is she? What right does she have to speak to him as a friend, and not as a mere student? How does she know what's wrong with him?
Kozmotis lies on the couch, arm draped over his face, reveling in the silence of the doctor's lounge. The lounge is the best-kept-secret of his practice. Not from the children. No, never from the children. From the parents who insist that their children are in deathly straits when it is nothing more than slight sniffle. It is the sanctuary of all the doctors, and their residency students.
"Lollipop?" a kindly voice makes him look up into a smiling, heart-shaped face.
"Anna," he greets her, shifting his long legs onto the floor to give her room to sit. She keeps the lollipop extended until he finally gives a soft smile and takes it, careful not to brush her fingers.
"Why so glum, chum?" She giggles at her own rhyme as she leans forward, bracing her elbows on her knees as she waits for his response.
He keeps his eyes on the lolly as he unwraps it, and slowly popping it into his mouth. Orange. His favorite...as Anna knows well.
"Is it Jack?"
Straight to the heart, as always. "Why do you even bother asking, anymore?"
She blushes, and hunches her shoulders sheepishly. "Sorry, habit."
He shakes his head, "No, do not apologize for that. Jack will be fine. I'm not planning to let him give up on me anytime soon."
She smiles at that. "With a friend like you, I'd like to see him try." Her eyes widen in shock, "I mean...not that I want him to try! Because I don't. Wow, that's awkward. I mean, I'm awkward. Yeah, I'm awkward. I just mean..."
Anna is cut off by Kozmotis's low chuckle. "Someone like you is wasted in pediatrics. Is Elsa still trying to get you to quit?"
She sighs as she leans back in the couch, slumping, "Every day. Kinda late now, though. Residency is almost done, and then I can work with you!"
"Work with me..." he muses, and she becomes nervous again.
"You aren't taking back your offer, are you?"
He shakes his head, "You are the best and the brightest I have met, Anna. You have your pick of practices you can join, and yet you want to work with a grumpy old codger."
She snorts, rolling her eyes, "You're not that old. And codger is putting it a little strong, don't ya think?"
He quirks an eyebrow, "I can give you the names of twenty-nine M.D.s who would be perfectly willing to write you a paper on the subject of me being a nightmare to work with."
That earns him a punch in the shoulder. "Quit being so down on yourself."
The corners of his lips twitch, "My apologies, miss."
That earns him another swat, "Stop that. What would Lottie say?"
He looks away, and says nothing.
"Oh, Koz!"
"My own fault. I was not giving her the attention she deserved."
"Because of Jack." There is no question in her voice. All he can do in response is nod. "Then she's an idiot. And to be completely honest, I've always thought she was horrid. I've been dying to tell you."
That startles a laugh out of him. "Really now. And how is that?"
Anna glances around, as though checking for eavesdroppers, before leaning in close to whisper, "To be completely honest, she looks like an evil witch."
He looks skeptical, "One of my older patients decided to have me star in some of his comics as the Nightmare King. I fail to see your argument."
That earns him another slight smack on the top of his head. "I never liked that kid either. But maybe if you'd smile once in a time less people would think that."
"I cannot smile," he responds in a monotone, "I have a reputation to uphold."
She tosses her head and looks down her nose at him, "Well then," she speaks haughtily, "You have no one to blame but yourself."
He surprises himself somewhat by chuckling, "Are you sure you do not want to be a primary school teacher? You appear to have the tone down."
"Oh shut up," she answers, but she's laughing.