Disclaimer: This is my first ever attempt at writing any sort of fanfiction and, well, English's not my first language either, so if this appears a bit unrefined, my apologies. This may be somewhat of a crossover, but the parts that technically are aren't that relevant to the grand story, so... you know. This is a bit of an AU story, where it's not Marlon who runs the school (don't worry, he's causing trouble nonetheless lol), the twins weren't kidnapped, four cast members of the Michonne Mini-Series became part of the group, two cut Beta characters are also around, and Clementine is running with Duck and the Garcia siblings (sorry AJ, but I really don't trust myself to characterize a five year old). Criticism is appreciated. ;)
October 9th, 2011 - 1 p.m. - Dean's POV
Tick-tock-tick-tock ... the headmaster's office is completely devoid of any sounds, other than the ticking of the clock on the desk. The desk – old, properly manufactured hardwood, exactly what a headmaster not caring about public spending would afford himself - presents itself to be noticeably empty, apart from an ancient glass of ink, a stack of paper and a bird's feather. I, seated as usual, decide to take a break from my documentation, owing to the fact my hand was half-numb already, moving from the chair that seemed to have been just as much of a financial expense as the desk.
I try my best, but even with the support of an ancient but sturdy cane, it takes me quite a few seconds to really raise myself. Owning to my prior lack of biology knowledge, I spend the overwhelming amount of time essentially quarantined to the office, reading through the entirety of the encyclopedia collection available, which informed me about the risks of thrombosis, among others – the amount of medical knowledge freely accessible to anyone was staggering to me. It still is. A far cry from the homelands. I gaze upon the clock, its ticking only really coming to my attention after the concentration on my writing deeds came to a halt.
... ah, the annoyance of necessary appliances. A clock working like clockwork. Thankfully an older model that could be winded up manually. Batteries are a worthwhile good in this day and age.
I turn away from the desk to instead take a peek through the window. The repeating wood-on-wood noise the cane makes is even more of a hassle to me than anything the clock could do, even the way it shows time running out and about every day. Nobody will live forever, but at only 41 years old, I already feel like a retiree, just waiting out his days for the inevitable. It isn't cancer, smoking, drinking or anything else that would be the leading cause of natural death for most people my age, but a gaping chest injury and a left knee broken in multiple places. Painkillers were helpful... but after the apocalypse came about, I decided that those would be better used to treat any of the schoolchildren if anything didn't go as planned. And it didn't, many times.
42 students on July 19th, 2003 – the day of the outbreak. 13 remaining. I do feel responsible, in some way. At first I thought that it would be a good idea to let the children and teenagers govern themselves, and the Coldon twins, Dewey and Ryan, almost 18 years old by the time the world as they knew ended, took the power on themselves. Which turned out to be a disastrous choice. It should've been clear from the start – Dewey came to the school as a result of excessive psychopathic and narcissistic tendencies after all – and showed little to no regard for the well-being of his fellow students, which in the end lead to a mutiny that violently ousted him from his position. Not that he'd ever have given up power without a fight. After that, the remaining children gave Ryan the benefit of the doubt, because he'd largely been innocent in the entire affair, but in the end, it turned out he was simply not meant to be a leader, which he eventually realised himself. Just let me become a bad memory. God bless y'all. His final words, found on a paper directly next to his hanging body. It was unanimously decided that they needed an adult in charge – so the only remaining of the former teachers got the job and the responsibilities. I wish Judy Martin was still around... she was more of a mature thinker than I ever was, despite her being about a decade younger than me.
Perhaps I'm not quite physically able-bodied, but methinks I have proven many times to know what I am doing – and after almost half a decade without anyone else going missing or getting killed otherwise, and even the successful integration of a small group of outsiders lead by a headstrong Native American college student, it appears most of the survivors think they made the right choice, even when I was not always the kindest and most pleasing person to be around.
This tree looks as dangerous as it can get. I ought to have it axed down by somebody... or perhaps I shall try myself? Thinking of it, I cannot recall ever having swung an axe before, at least not in a serious manner. I suppose I am much more sophisticated in the art of swinging sharper instruments, preferably with two-sided blades. At least it would be a fitting weather situation for manual labour. As clear skies as autumn allows. October 9th, if I counted correctly. Five years free of death and despair as of tomorrow. As much as I despise complimenting meself, I might start doing so. I am quite curious whether anyone else in the world today gets to command a group of teenagers... and a few grown women who act like they are in that age range.
I have given it some thought. Maybe it is not that inherently terrible of an idea. But I still am not thoroughly convinced. There are two major defense lines on the board, and this endeavour could compromise them. The road just leading it up to it... it used to be a major connection point. I am aware just how unlikely it may be given how sparsely populated today's world is with humans who are actually capable of intelligent thought, but nonetheless. My constant paranoia is well founded, I suspect. At least one thing of good the old bastard has ever done...
"So... how's the decision making going?", a familiar voice calls out behind my back.
I have to constantly remind myself that she is in this very room. Still being asleep in the chair at that time of day is... worrisome. I do fear the coming winter might have an even more negative effect on her behavior. The coming winter. That reminds me of something.
"Well, that wholly depends on whether you're bloody able to emerge from your place of rest. The assistance of someone who knows the ins and outs of how rifles work would be quite welcome.", I answer. The literal teenagers out there would most certainly profit from adult advice.
"Depends on whether you can help with something else I'm working on in the evening...I wouldn't mind company.", the voice responds.
Not this again. I try my best to maneuvre myself around, resting the weight of my upper body on the cane, fearing it may break due to the pressure.
"Paige, I will not have sexual relations with you, no matter how many times you try to compliment me – or I compliment you, depending on the given circumstance. We had this discussion already, remember?"
She doesn't answer immediately, instead having a troubled and questioning look on her face. I continue: "And I do not particularly appreciate you constantly joining me on that chair and leaning on my shoulder when I am already fast asleep. If this was the other way around, it would appear highly predatory. But because I am the man and 14 years the senior between the two of us, I appear to be expected to simply put up with it. Inconceivable, it is."
Cue her facepalming herself. Did she finally get the message?
"Jesus, Dean. I get that you'd think this is what I mean, but I was more talking about some campfire story thing that Mitch and Willy have planned."
Are you... well, that's impressively uncomfortable. "Oh... that's... to be considered, I suppose.", I stutter back. Heavens.
"Also, even if it was the other way around... it wouldn't really work. You're like eight inches taller than me.", she says with an awkward expression, which leads to me frowning and raising my eyebrow.
"How did we even get to this subject of discussion?"
"I think it started with you wording it like you were Bill Clinton denying your affair with Miss Lewinsky. Although, to be fair, she was hotter than I am and he had a better haircut than you do.", she answers quite too honestly.
"With all due respect, but this woman was not more attractive than y..." I stop myself before finishing my sentence, now facepalming myself. "Why I do keep walking into your traps? I hate you."
"Clearly." she retorts smirking and with a slight blush of embarrassment on her face.
"I cannot recall you ever being nearly as insolent as you currently are when you and your apparent support group arrived here. I guess we achieved something here. Less of the I am the disgruntled only child on the verge of suicide mood is always a welcomed contribution."
"I don't think I've ever known anyone who's worse at making small talk than you are." she replies to that. Unsurprisingly, a nerve hit.
"Me neither. Another thing we have in common. Fancy." I would entertain kicking this girl out of the room myself, but for some curious reason, I do not. Am I truly this desperate for any sort of companionship? Well, as long as I do not fall for her feminine charm... which at this point I am not completely sure of I could manage. Thankfully Alex manages to interrupt our verbal affronts every time before something even more unbecoming happens, desperately trying to challenge me with this dusty old chessboard he carries around. I would not be shocked to find out he is listening in somehow to help me out in this dilemma.
Before this would all turn out even worse, the conversation is interrupted however.
The door swings open with quite a bit of force, and a certain woman – mockingly called Warrior Princess by Trey, a name that stuck - walks in with her beloved baseball bat in hand and an M16 strapped to the back, a noticeable piece of paper in hands. Unsure whether to be glad that the awkward atmosphere between me and Paige was interrupted or to be pissed by the blatant lack of respect of my privacy, I speak up.
"Knocking? No? Fine then. I do hope you at least put forth a tad bit of planning, Asha."
I love this entire look at how tough I am I don't need no manners attitude. Earned, I suppose. At least she brings with her the crew that I asked for. Sophie, Aasim, Marlon, Willy... plus Paige and her in the shadows should work.
"Nobody cares, Dean. There's the document.", she coldly responds, throwing it onto the desk.
"Hello there!", Sophie and Willy utter in unison.
"Alone together again? Man... you two spend, like, way too much time together.", Marlon comments in a snarky tone.
"I could not agree more on that. But that's hardly my decision, since a certain individual with a ludicrously styled mullet decided to have the keys magically disappear in a ditch eight years ago.", I sarcastically answer to his comment.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Asshole.", Paige replies to my remark, half-jokingly, half serious. Splendid. Maybe I ought to hold my tongue, I already got Samantha in the mood to cut that off too.
"Man, come on... it doesn't look that bad.", he replies. Not sure about that. I most certainly prefer my mane.
"Ehh, it does. But to be fair, Dewey was sitting here all the time, trying to play big boss. I can't say I blame you on that one at least." Woah, Aasim coming to Marlon's defense. The most extraordinary thing I will see all day.
"So, basically... you're not gonna do the explaining, are you?", Marlon asks Asha, who answers with a blank expression before turning her back to us. Not in the least surprising.
He continues: "Thought so. So, to recap: James has been out scouting the place out on his own. The entire area looks to be... fine. But something has changed dramatically compared to the last time anyone of us were there."
"Yep – he said it looks like someone was living there. Or used to. There's a bell with a warning shield, crops that have completely dried out and... a broken down tire swing.", Willy adds, pointing at the front of the train station on the map.
"A tire swing? Could it be that...?", Paige appears visibly distressed. I expected that reaction - no one living on school grounds has a softer spot for young children than her. Another really admirable quality of her... and I almost feel compelled to hug her. Almost.
"Maybe. But like I said, all of it seems like it hasn't been used in forever. Whoever was there either left... or worse.", Willy continues.
"So that at least means no one's gonna take a shot at us. Walkers only, and no herd to be seen either. That does make things quite a bit easier.", Aasim adds.
"So you only ought to worry about... non-undead enemies. Certain there are none of them around?", I ask. Just being careful.
Aasim continues: "Pretty certain. James looked at everything. Checked the train wagons – empty, probably still as empty as they were after Rocky and me cleared them out in that stupid suicide mission we barely survived. The door is closed from the inside, but he looked through the windows from all side. The only thing moving are... two walkers tied to a chair. Before you ask: No, I don't know if he was serious or just fucking with us. We'll have to keep that in mind."
Good... wait, what?
"I'd say the former... I haven't heard James joke about anything in years." Paige is right. He is probably the only person more on the philosophy of life line than Tennessee.
"Very good. What about... not-undead enemies from the outside?", I continue. You could hear a pin drop when I asked that question. Still on edge. After a year.
Aasim responds first: "From where? The street? There's barely anyone out there anymore. We should concentrate on the walkers. Especially because I doubt James did anything to them."
"You never know...", Marlon counters.
Aasim responds to that with a chuckle, adding: "What, you still paranoid about those guys? I'd say as long as you keep it together..."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?", Marlon says in an agitated tone.
Oh fantastic... I know where this is heading.
"Okay, we're all a bit anxious, but let's stay cool." Paige tries to diffuse the situation, but to no avail.
Marlon proceeds talking himself in rage: "No, I'm not gonna stay fucking cool. I've been hearing this crap for a year now. A year. I fucked up, good and proper, and I was a total coward. I realized that. That's still not a reason for me to always be the first one to be picked for it. Am I the only one ever making mistakes here? Hardly."
Aasim retorts: "There's a fine line between accidentally tripping over your own feet like Willy always does..."
"Hey!", Willy interjects, but is ignored.
"... and trying to freaking sell the twins to a bunch of assholes to save your own skin. They could've been murderers, rapists, cannibals or god knows what! Nobody cares how much you think you're the victim here. These guys should've taken YOU with instead!"
Before any of us could react to either of their outbursts, Sophie put on the brakes: "STOP IT, RIGHT NOW!"
"But...", Aasim tries to continue, but is swiftly cut off again.
"NO BUTS! Just... stop. Let it go. Both of you. All of this constant fighting is so fucking petty. It happened. Not yesterday, not last week, a year ago. Let it go. What you want me to do, demand that he's kicked out? No. I was never afraid – because I knew that Asha was right behind us. She got us out of a shitty situation so many times now that I simply knew three addicts wouldn't be a challenge for her. Yeah, Marlie panicked, and he made bad choices – but this was a year ago! And he apologized every damn time that topic came up! Let's just stop this bickering! It's the same every week. He would've given me away, and guess what? I still forgive him. Hell, I'd even let him sleep with me, that's how little I care now."
What in the name of all things holy is going on here?
"... you know, I might just take you up on that offer.", Marlon replies to her speech. Unexpectedly, this results in all of them breaking out in some sort of laughing, even Paige to a point, while I cup my face with my right hand out of sheer hopelessness and Asha remains as stoic and unmoving as ever. Until an unexpected outside interruption occurs.
"That went from really fucked to really cute and brave aaand then back to really fucked again. I loveit. Keep it coming. The rest of you okay?"
"Oh, hi there, Jill.", Sophie reacts, before I jump in: "Evidently not. Also, knocking. I daresay Ruby has a point about the general lack of courtesy. What are you even doing here?"
She doesn't answer, instead showing off a bandaged left thumb. "Cut myself with a rusty nail. Thankfully got my tetanus shot before this whole shit started. I'll live. I'll just... stick around for a bit, if that's okay. I'm not gonna go out to the greenhouse again without Asha keeping tabs."
"Thanks for the contribution, Jill. Not.", Marlon answers to that, chuckling.
"You're welcome... I'm just gonna sit riiight here, and pretend to listen.", she commented, sitting herself down on the same chair Paige used to sit in just a few minutes ago.
Sophie takes her eyes onto Asha, her still not moving an inch: "Come on Ashe, not even that can get a giggle outta you? It even called the Righteous Aasim down."
"Underage girls offering to prostitute themselves to make peace between two wannabe alpha males doesn't quite meet my idea of humor.", she countered. And I actually couldn't agree more.
"Ouch... that stings.", Aasim retorts.
"Also, I'll turn eighteen in... well, soon, so that's not a problem.", Sophie responds.
"November 28th. In exactly 50 days.", I throw in.
"How'd you know that?", she asks me back.
"He does because someone has to be responsible around here... nah, just kidding. You wrote it onto the edge of this table about a year ago, remember? Look sharp.", Paige tells her.
"Ohhh, yeah... I had no idea. Must be why bossman isn't really a fan of us drinking.", Sophie said sticking her tongue out, to which I could only shake my head with a faint smile. I can trust Jill to still have a sense of her surroundings when being drunk, the teenagers on the other hand... no, just no.
"So if that doesn't meet your sense of humor, what exactly does? Eight years and I still haven't figured it out." Now even Marlon is joining in trying to rile Asha up. Uh-oh.
"Evil stepmothers getting what they deserve? Anyone have a Cinderella VHS on hand?", Jill snickers.
"Having lost so much of your humanity that you joke about murder... I am proud of you, in a horribly twisted and morally questionable way. Mademoiselle Serioúse certainly is aswell." I say, eyeing upon Asha, who in turn turns around with a displeased expression.
"Make fun of my accent again and I will cut your throat out. I don't care how cool you wish to be, gramps.", she threatens, to which I mockingly reply: "Oooh... alright, General. As you command."
Marlon, now having calmed down, thankfully decides to focus on the mission again: "Anyway, that's about it. We're prepared – knives for everyone, Paige and Willy got their rifles, I got my bow, Aasim a shotgun, and Sophie loaned out... you know what she took from Louis. I'm not gonna say what he names it. It's stupid."
"Yeah, but my crossbow's still not working, so it's not like I have a choice, Also, it's Chairles, Marlie. One should always have respect for the qualities of furniture is what Lou would say about that.", Sophie throws in with a smirk.
Marlon tries his best to dismiss that: "Yeah yeah yeah, sure. Asha's armed as usual, and James will be waiting on stand-by, in case we're in danger of being overrun. Does that sound reasonable? Yes, before you ask, we also got a few bags, in case we find anything worthwhile."
"Fine by me. Any further questions?", I concede and ask into the room, which leads to Sophie swiftly raising her hand and again throwing in a comment: "Yeah, about that... lemme just ask, why can't sis come with?"
Aasim thankfully answers in my stead, pointing at Marlon: "Nevermind our beef - do you honestly think that putting him and Minnie into the same spot is a good idea?"
"Why should me getting put in that spot instead be a better idea?"
"I'm pretty sure Marlon would rather be called cute nick names by you than live with the risk of Minnie cleanly beheading him at any given time."
"Oooh... that's smart. Thanks, smart Aasim. Or, like... Smaartsim?"
Which is answers with a very well known You are kidding me, right? expression from his side: "Soph, please, never do that again."
"Sorry. And sorry about my outburst just now... but it had to be. This'll never stop otherwise, you know. Like, I don't expect you two to hug, just... no fighting. Be nice."
Before this would turn weirdly uncomfortable again, Willy throws the hat into the round: "Um, can I just ask why I'm part of this expedition? I'd be more useful guarding the walls."
That I could tell him: "I need someone who actually pays attention instead of being woven into unethical teenager talk. That's where you come in. I hope."
"So... what about Tenn and Alex then? They're technically not teenagers either.", he counters.
"The last time either of them held a rifle, Alex starting shaking in fear and crying while Tenn almost immediately gave up the gun fearing he'd hurt someone with it. I think you're doing better than them in that regard, kiddo. You can do it.", Paige praises him.
"I'll take this as encouragement, I guess. Alright, I'm in. But I want seconds at dinner tonight. I spent an hour trying to lure that possum before it walked into the trap.", Willy responds with a determined expression.
Oh god. I have to warn him: "Right, right, right, fine. If you manage to find another one before the sun goes down – just do try not to get bitten. Both by the undead and these little rodents. Otherwise I will probably lose that bet I made..."
"Against Sam? Again? Seems like I cannot leave you two alone without some fuckery going on.", Paige replies to that idea.
"What do you even bet with? Cash?", Jill throws in.
"Nah, it's gotta be postcards, right? That's what all old people collect.", Aasim adds to my displeasure.
"Ignoring this highly discriminatory and deeply hurtful implication you just made, my dear Pakistani friend... Yu-Gi-Oh cards."
And just as I said that, I could feel the deadpan expressions of everyone around me. Oh well.
"Seniors" have to entertain themselves too. At this point, I feel confident I have read through every single book available in this very library. Mr. Ericson was unfortunately not a man of widespread interests, so I did not profit off of that much other than having it hammered into my brain that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.
"Seriously?" Marlon nonchalantly asks.
"Hey, she wants my Winged Dragon of Ra. Very beautiful design. She has to earn her property. Work before party.", I reply, clearly being amused by the reactions. "But anyhow, before this entire meeting turns out even more uncomfortable for most people involved, I do have to say to be quite pleased by your preparation to this little journey. No, really. All... well, most of you show a commendable degree of maturity. A far cry from the grade school age troublemakers that I first knew you as. Keep it up."
That speech was met with amazement from the younger ones. They surely did not expect that to hear from me.
"I've rarely seen you actually praising these kids... what, are you going to mellow with age?", Paige replies to that, hands crossed with a stern look.
"I am trying my hardest to appear sympathetic and in a good mood, but forgive me – if anybody makes another joke referring to my age, there is a slight chance I may break their jaws with this thing here.", I exclaim, stomping the cane into the wooden floor.
"Oh hey, don't anger the man... but still, appreciated.", Marlon counters.
"Yeah, you normally always complain about the people here. A nice change of pace.", Aasim adds, to which Sophie replies: "To be fair, like 90% of his complaints are about Sam, Paige or us complaining about something else, so it's not like he's doing it for the shun of it. I think."
Indeed: "So you do pay attention. Splendid. Anyway, we all managed to avoid another funeral for the past five years, so at this point I believe I can trust you to enact sensible measures. I think all of you managing to live to a ripe old age would be the common goal, no?"
"More or less.", Asha surprisingly adds, continuing: "But these kids still need more training. I doubt always relying that I would be the one to save their asses every time trouble arises will be effective in the long run. I plan to be around for a considerable time, but if anything happens..."
"Aw come on, don't sell yourself short. You're pretty damn good at what you do. Lord knows I would be on edge all the time if I wasn't sure you was looking out for me. Can't you just not be negative for once and make a motivational speech and shit? Even he can, so not all hope is lost.", Jill tells her from across the room, stretching herself because sitting is too much work apparently.
Asha looks at us with a highly sceptical expression on her face, simply exclaiming: "If I wanted to make grand speeches about how good I am at my job, I'd fucking do it. But I'm not here to talk. Dewey and Ryan screwing around already did enough damage. If you all plan on living long enough to get old and gray, you're gonna have your work cut out of you. The games are over."
"Guys... don't piss her off even more. Please."When even Willy becomes a voice of reason, people ought to listen. Thankfully Jill started it... I believe she is the only person who could use that tone on Asha more than once a in while without getting kicked in the face.
With her making this grand speech, I wonder if she is actually willing to put her money where her mouth is: "Well, Asha... if you are showing such eagerness and discontempt with the status quo, train them. Attempt it for all I care. Who gets training and who does not is not my concern nor my call to make. I will not force anything upon anyone, but I would actively encourage further education on the matter, if you get my gist."
"... fine. But I demand absolute discipline from everyone involved. Material preparation might take about a week. I will update Aasim when these are done." She then takes the baseball bat off of her shoulders, placing its upper end on her right hand instead, managing to make herself look even less welcoming: "Be prepared, I will not go lightly on any of you. These walls might be steady, but once they fall... you will need all of the strength and determination you could possibly muster."
Aasim presses on: "Just tell us if you need any help... I know you hate company, but still, we're all a team here."
"We try to be at least... can you show us that one neckbreaker move.", Willy adds.
"I can, but I somehow doubt that you're tall enough to make it work. Gotta keep on growing on for a few more years, kid.", to which he replies with a look of doubt.
"I wonder if all of that's really necessary. I mean, we're not exactly starving." Sophie throws in.
"It's not an emergency, but who knows how many supplies there may still be. It's worth checking at least. More people means better defense and better offense. We can't just leave James hanging either, he's done almost all of the work so far." Marlon confirms to her.
"A whole three minutes without causing an argument. Marvellous. For the time being, colour me convinced. Now, with all due respect, finish your preparation and leave the, ahem, great-grandfather be." I reply. Yes, I am indeed convinced, but all this talking gives me a considerable headache.
"You're trying to throw them out again? It's only been like ten minutes." Paige, why can you simply not stop talking back for once...
"Not for you, you have occupied my space for what appears to me like ten days. Look out for Alex, him not having shown throughout noon desperately trying to make me give him the white rooks again appears suspicious. Farewell."
And yet, she still is not finished: "He's 12 years old, he can take of himself just fine. He needs a bit of support, but not constantly. I'm not his mom. Think I'll have to refuse your wishes for now."
"If you happen to speculate that this was an offer instead of an order, you are most certainly mistaken, little lady." So much for my executive powers.
"You're mistaken if you think you have the power to throw me out of anything. Try it. I dare you."
"Holy shit, get a room guys, seriously." Marlon stops the bickering, though not the way I would have liked him to.
Well, this is certainly helpful to the atmosphere. "We did get a room. I am quite confident the two of us have shared this room for the past fifteen hours. Nothing of note happened, apart from her almost getting her hand clipped between two folders."
"The sexual tension is off the rockers between you two."
"Umm... I wasn't the one who offered herself to a guy to keep the peace, Sophie. Already forgotten?" Paige replies to that remark.
"I sure as hell haven't. Hell, I'd even let him sleep with me, that's how little I care now. True romance. Shakespeare ain't got shit on that." Jill throws in from the sidelines.
I refrain from any sort of sexist implication about this entire affair, simply walking back to the desk chair and sitting down, not paying any attention to my surrounding any longer. I sit down, put both my elbows on my desk and my index fingers on my temples. What a headache, quite literally. Asha is the first one to get the message, leaving without a word. Smart girl. Paige follows shortly thereafter, turning and leaving after leaving me with a last sceptical look, a sly smile and a head shake. And I'm staring at her the whole time. I need to get my head straight. Aasim turns out to be sensible enough to come up with a talking point that convinces the rest of his compatriots to follow suit. Willy is the last one to leave, handing me a deck of poker cards that I told him to search for in the attic, in case Louis again forgets where he put his before playing his immature games again, and he too is nice enough to close the door behind him.
And after what seems like half an eternity, I am finally alone again... well, almost. A certain florist with a flair for pot smoking and explicit jokes would simply not move from the spot she made herself comfortable in, which I answer with a very typical look of disbelief: "Now I finally got Paige out of his room, you decide to spread your wings instead. With all due respect – can I just have a very short time for meself? We are bound to have plenty of community discussion at the weekly meeting tomorrow."
Jill doesn't answer immediately, instead getting up and stretching a bit: "Hey, at least I ain't gonna fucking bugger you about child wishes, so that's gotta be an improvement, amirite?"
"Thankfully. Not that you also get the idea. I know Asha won't. But Paige has been pretty adamant about it – to the point of nearing sexual harassment. And if Samantha gets the same idea... an unfortunate predicament to be the sole actually adult male in a community with four women in their 20s. My curse or my blessing for that matter is that find the idea of causing anyone's pregnancy to be thoroughly uninteresting, so I suppose Paige will not have a choice, other than either convincing any of the teenage boys who are barely over the legal age or praying to the Biblical God for another Mother-Mary miracle. However the course may be, I shall have no part in it."
"Why though? I mean, I know why I won't – I ain't willin' to stay clean and sober for nine months just for a little brat that'll keep me awake at night – so what's your reasoning? I mean, I can get you some... supplements if the man down there refuses to put in the work."
Oh my sweet summer child. If only you knew. "Ha. Very funny. First the jokes about my age, then about my disability, then about my supposed lack of... you know. Unfortunately, from a mental perspective, I am long past the point of no return when it comes to not taking unsolicited advice and tactless jokes into account, especially when either of them verge on bullying."
"Shit, you ain't tellin' me stuff I don't know already. That still don't answer the question though."
How I can portray this as nicely as possible? "No, it doesn't. Because it's hardly your concern. Now, I beg your pardon, leave my office."
"Oh, gimme a break – it's hard enough to find any room with proper seating that isn't constantly occupied by noisy teenagers." - No, no it is not. What an outlandish excuse.
"Come on, Jill. Come on."
Shockingly, she actually listens to me this time: "Alright, alright. But if my wound gets infected 'cause of the unacceptable stress you just put on me, it's gonna be your health insurance paying the bills. See ya."
Uhhh. Sometimes I truly despise the human race. A sentiment most likely not helped by my lacking patience for juvenile discussion. To my misfortune on that matter, almost every individual living on school grounds either is a literal child or still acts like they were, through one behavioral trait or another... as if I am much better. I feel as if I have not grown as a person in the past 15 years.
I turn my eyes to the clock on the desk again, first noticing its ticking once the room was cleared out and it was all silent apart from this nuisance. The only thing that impresses me even less is this distinct smell of water roses and mint perfume... oh no. I know who that is. "Having you as a visitor was not something I had scheduled for today. Perhaps a warning sign next time, hm?"
A mellow, highly enticing voice answers to me: "... perhaps it comes as a surprise to you. But oh well – what is it you constantly hammer into the heads of your faithful subordinates? Always expect the unexpected? My appearance should scarcely be startling to you. I seldomly appear, though I am always present."
"What an extraordinarily vacuous, yet downright unsettling statement. I shall document this as another cause for me to refrain from any sort of relationship, let alone intimacy." I turn around as quickly as my broken frame allows me to... looking at an angelic figure with terrific cheek bones, wavy long silver hair, a light green and a dark blue eye and the most glamorous light blue silk dress anyone could imagine to exist.
"What is it that you wish? Or require? Surely you did not decide to make yourself look this presentable just for a marginal segment of insipid chat?"
"Believe or deny, this appearance is all natural.", she answers to that, which leads me to respond with a slight chuckle. Either she is more proficient in the art of sarcasm than I happen to be, or she is simply a very confident liar. She ignores my reaction and continues: "The first order is for you to remove this outrageous device of protection from your visage. I am quite aware what tint your eyes have been blessed with. You should wear it with pride, not hide it."
"I do not take orders from you, milady. With all due respect. But as a gesture of good faith..." and I move my right hand to remove the glasses... from being placed directly over my eyes, at least. I simply move it a bit upward, like all these fancy cowboy figures in the cigarette advertisements would.
"Is this what meets your concept of removal?", she reacts unamused.
"If you deem your wants and needs worthy of being fulfilled, afraid you will have to do better than that. All the same, my question remains unanswered. What brought your grace here of all places?"
"You did lose your innocence to this very grace, once upon a time."
"Indeed... because I happened to be an utterly clueless boy barely of marrying age who was put under alcoholic influence by an apparent heavenly virgin that did not find it necessary to inform me of her name and status. A mistake I must not repeat... I would rather not face the menacing wrath of the unholy traitor and the missing lordmanship. Also, did they not claim that you used to be bathing in human blood to keep your beauty?"
"Thoroughly unfounded rumours... somewhat."
"But rumours with a longstanding presence, so to be considered in any future negotiation." I counter.
"Amusing. Your gratitude for your continued survival is genuinely appreciated." she coldly replies.
I decide to turn around again, looking through the tainted window glass. Before long, I begin another rant: "I am quite frankly unsure if I should either display eternal gratitude or eternal damnation for this alleged act of mercy you decided to put me through without my consultation. I can not argue that I would have minded dying with just the most minor shred of any of my apparent honor still remaining. Instead, I am here – alive and breathing with a broken down disaster of a physical shell remaining, being given responsibilities I cannot recall having requested at any given point."
She appears to turn, by the sounds of her footsteps. "Strangely enough, now it is you who decides to lose the way and ramble about subjects not of immediate matter. All that I have to tell you – you ought to prepare yourself. New companions are on the horizon."
"You were unable to hand me this information in writing? Not that we would end up wasting your precious abilities for a non-development.", I snicker, still not being convinced that she is telling me anything worthwhile, turning around again to find... emptiness. She is gone. Yet again. Not even saying goodbye. Courtesies, are they too much to ask for?