“…for disability and pregnancy accommodations, the course syllabus gives you all the details you need on who to contact.  If you aren’t already, you’re going to be sick of hearing all that by the time you graduate.  We’re required to go over it in the first class of every class we teach.

Heh.

I guess we didn’t really miss anything noteworthy while Clocky was considering who all were present.

“So.  Let me start off by addressing and banishing some assumptions you may have.  This is not an easy class, and anyone who took Parahumans: History and Society or Parahumans: Case Studies and Powers will be aware of this.

101 and 102, I presume.

Even for those of you who emerged triumphant from the previous two semesters should know that PARA-103 may be something of a shock to you if this is your first year of University.  Here, primarily, I will be looking for creativity, problem solving and research abilities.  Skills and abilities that, frankly, aren’t stressed enough in high school.

…yeah, I suppose that’s a fair assessment.

Kid Win sat to Clockblocker’s right, fidgeting by taking apart his pen and putting it back together, his eyes not leaving the screen.

#LilTinkerThings

Shadow Stalker was sitting as far away from everyone else as she could manage, at the back corner of the room.

Because of course she does.

She sat sideways in her seat, back to the wall, her feet resting on the seat next to her.  Her attention was directed entirely at the keys and screen of her cell phone, rather than the projector screen at the front of the room.

Naturally.

Only thirteen people present, altogether.

So there are usually more around?

“Welcome to Parahumans 103: Theories and Patterns.  I see we have a packed auditorium, and according to the enrollment list, we have no less than three hundred students taking the TV course.

Hm. It seems we’re at Arcadia High, today. But who’s today’s lucky student?

A bump up from the last two trimesters, so I must be doing something right.”

Hehe, nice.

Clockblocker looked around the room.

Ooh, Clocky’s up next. Excellent.

Six PRT uniforms sat in the front row, helmets off, three with notebooks open on the desks in front of them.  Weld and Flechette sat in the desks closest to the door, exchanging murmured words as the professor on the screen began going over the course syllabus.

Makes sense that Weld and Flechette would end up sitting together. They’re both the “new kids in town”, and they already knew each other from before.

Glory Girl sat just in front of him, wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt, arms folded on her desk, chin resting on the back of one hand.  Vista, odd as it was, sat beside the other heroine, had been the only one to offer any conversation.

Huh, not exactly the two I’d generally picture together.

Though…

…

…they kind of have something to relate over now.

When Glory Girl hadn’t seemed interested in talking, Vista had instead offered her silent company.  Clockblocker wasn’t exactly sure how Glory Girl had gotten into the Wards headquarters to attend the screening, but she was here, uncharacteristically quiet, much in the same way that Vista had been this past week.

…yeah.

She didn’t let it show.  Instead, she smiled and started walking, hands clasped behind her back, darts clasped in one hand in case of trouble or ambush.  The gorilla crossed the yellow line and sort of half-ran, half-loped to catch up, move beside her.  It slowed to a plodding, gentle walk.

“Hi, I’m Lily, and I like long walks along suspended strings together with girls riding 12-foot-tall plush gorillas.”

Flechette was secretly relieved.  She knew she’d manage for the duration of her stay, now.  She’d made a connection, even if it wasn’t with someone on her team.  She wasn’t in this alone.

😀

“So, you’re a fashion student?” she asked.

I hope you both have a good time! 🙂

Cute, the thought struck Flechette.  Funny to think she’s older than me.

She’s totally into her and it gets more obvious by the paragraph.

“Nice to meet you, Sabah.”

“I’m still not letting you over the line,” Sabah warned.  She looked so small, up on the gorilla’s broad shoulders, the threat held little gravity.  Maybe, Flechette considered, it was intended more for Sabah than for her.

Hehe. Yeah, gotta stick to the deal, even if the would-be intruder is cute and gave you her number.

“Okay,” Flechette donned her visor once more, “But maybe you want to walk with me?  Do a patrol of the perimeter of your territory?  I’ll stay on this side.”

Gotta hand it to Flechette, she’s kinda smooth.

Sabah put her mask back on, and for a second, Flechette thought she would say no.

“Okay.  Thank you.”  Parian dropped her legs down to either side of the gorilla’s neck as it moved forward. To stay decent, the girl pressed her hands down on the lap of her dress, leaning forward a little.

This is the most romantic situation I’ve ever read about with one party sitting on top of a twelve feet tall gorilla.

It was a little thing, that bashful modesty, but Flechette felt as much of a rush watching that as she did running across her chain/tightrope with a five-story drop below her.

Yeah, the narration isn’t even trying to be subtle about it anymore. 😛

I need people I can trust, she tried to convince herself, even as she knew she had other reasons.  Stuff like this could get her in serious trouble with the Wards.

Other reasons, eh? 😉

And qualifying Parian as someone you can trust this much might be a little hasty, but she does seem trustworthy.

Parian hesitated, then reached up and removed her mask.  Though her clothing style was western, her wig all blonde curls, her face was dark, middle eastern.

I guess that’s what you call multicultural.

Maybe. She could be entirely western, culturally, despite having Middle Eastern ancestry.

There were bands of metal extending from the edges of her face to the middle of her cheekbones, her chin and her forehead.  Mounts to keep her mask in position?  She had full lips and large, dark eyes. “Sabah.”

That’s a nice name. Quite… royal.