Skaia High: Part Four
[Continuous Series]

"Fuckin' Egbert bein' a damn fish," Dave muttered, turning a corner and coasting down the hall on his Heelys. "Gonna make me late for rap club." He skidded to a halt outside the class door, swinging the door open grandly. "Have no fear-!" He paused when he saw the room was far less populated, and on one half of the classroom sat a proper looking troll. "Oh, uh… yo?" he offered. The girl looked up from her knitting.

"Oh yes, is this the… 'rap' club?"

"What? Oh, yeah. You lookin' to lay down some sick fires?" he grinned, flashing some half-ass attempt at a gang sign.

"Um… what?" she asked, smiling politely and his posture drooped.

"You know… phat rhymes?"

"You mean slam poetry?" she offered.

"If that's the cool alien way of sayin' layin' down some serious shade. Like, rollin' it out on the floor like a dark fuckin' carpet. 'Do the drapes match?' Damn straight, keep the house in pitch dark-" She was staring at him quizzically. "Uh, sorry."

"Then let's hear some of these overweight rhymes," the troll smiled.

"Alright, sick." He went up in front of the classroom, clearing his throat.

"Aight listen up class, shut yer damn traps / Name's Dave Strider and I'm the professor of rap / Gonna show this troll shoty we ain't full of crap / Feedin' y'all Strider rhymes, straight from the tap / Doctor Strider's 'bout to give y'all a lesson / Arm you with words so you can make 'em your weapons / You better be followin' this ill rhymin' session / Cuz y'all know my rhymes are goddamn perfection." The side of the class filled with students erupted into applause and the troll girl grinned, clapping softly. "See? Rap."

"Oh, I was aware once you said it was synonymous with slam poetry. I'm quite learned in that regard and you're rather good at it yourself."

"Learned, huh?" Dave smirked, arms folded. "Wanna learn us?" She blushed a light green and Dave realized she was actually pretty cute. Wait. What?

"I mean… I suppose I could…" She tentatively stood and she took his place. "May I close my eyes?"

"Sure," Dave shrugged, and she did. He even started giving a quiet "Uhn uhn tsst, uhn tsst uhn tsst" for her.

"Please excuse me Dave Strider, you may want to sit down / My name's Kanaya Maryam and I'm gonna take you to Slam Town / My poetry's heavier than the mightiest musclebeast / Better get out of its way lest you become deceased / We trolls are raised on what you call 'sick fires' / Seems by challenging me you've built a funeral pyre / I'll hand back the mic and take my seat / But don't mistake it, Dave: Your bulge just got beat!"

Dave stood, mouth agape, the troll girl – Kanaya – breathing heavily, with small beads of jade sweat on her brow as she opened her eyes.

"Holy shit," someone whispered, and the class began to cheer.

"I wholeheartedly fuckin' agree," Dave said, straightening his glasses. "Holy shit. That was fantastic."

"Really?" she flushed, her ashen skin glistening. Glistening, Dave? Really? he chastised himself.

"Yeah," he nodded. "If you wanna join we can fill out some paperwork after hours. How's that sound?"

"Lovely," she grinned.

"But really, you dropped some seriously ill beats back there," Dave said, leaning on her chair as she filled out her paperwork.

"Well thank you. On Alternia it's more… of a personal matter, so I thank you for letting me shut my eyes."

"No prob. Personal how, though? Like burning through a rap-off as flirting?" he snorted.

"Yes," she replied, stoic-faced. He nearly fell back against the wall. "Are you alright?"

"Shit- I mean, yeah- I mean, sorry. I didn't know we were verbally making you striptease or whatever."

"Oh no," she chuckled. "Nothing that intimate. More like… a courting gesture, toward the object of your affection."

"Damn, must've been crushin' on me hard, then. You tore me UP," he grinned, though received no response. "…OH. Oh. Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you or make you feel like-" She turned and stood and he thought for sure she was going to smack him across the face, when suddenly he felt soft, warm lips and two hard points from her sharp fangs. "Mmf-! Mmn," he groaned into her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she panted, pulling away, cheeks flushed and lipstick smudged.

"No, no, it's cool," Dave replied, equally breathless. "Just let me lock the door first."

"I- I should be leaving," she muttered and Dave shrugged.

"Sure you don't want to make out a bit longer?" She faltered mid step, turning on her heel.

"Maybe… a bit longer."

"Jackpot."