Evan watched the figure hop down from the roof in a manner that could only be described as ostentatious. He loved every second of it. Then, unfortunately, the figure--recognizably female by the ponytail--started walking away.
Well that just wouldn't do.
Immediately Evan broke into loud applause, shouting "Encore! Encore!" in a tone that carried easily across the campus. If his mysterious singer was a show-off, the call to adulation would be difficult to resist. If this climbing daredevil was a bit shy, hopefully she'd come over just to shut him up.
Oh, good! Here she came. He'd buy her a coffee and ask her to show him around the top levels of the campus. He couldn't believe he'd never thought about the buildings themselves. Climbing trees, of course, and he'd been in the system of tunnels underneath the campus, but the roofs...
Well. Architecture had never been his strong suit, but he always enjoyed learning if it promised to be fun--and this did. The climbing girl was fairly close now; there was something familiar in the way she walked...
Wait. She wasn't walking anymore. She was running.
Bree straightened like a rod when she heard the man shout "encore," multiple times and extremely loudly.
She spun towards him, horror and a bit of fury, which only grew when she realized she recognized that voice.
It was that witch bastard from the library.
She fixed her eyes on him, narrowed, and then cracked her knuckles ominously. He was a professor, so she couldn't actually get away with punching him in the nose. ...Probably. Since he might recognize her, and he knew her name. She'd definitely get in trouble, and she couldn't risk her scholarship.
But she needed him to shut up. He was going to draw more attention, something she never needed. She headed towards him, fury in her steps. She could not actually hit him. She could not punch him, she could not kick him in the crotch, for three or four different reasons. She reminded herself of this several times.
She could maybe give him a fright, though.
She skidded to a halt a few inches from him, reaching up to grab the front of his stupid sweater and pull him down to be more level with her face.
"Catcalling on campus is extremely unprofessional behavior, Professor Jackson," she all but snarled. "For a moment there, I thought you were just a frat boy."
"Miss Bridget!" Evan exclaimed. He leaned into her hold and twisted around, ducking under her arm until his arm went around her shoulders, leaving them facing in the same direction. "I had no idea you had such a lovely singing voice. Tell me, do you often jump off buildings for recreational purposes? You must let me treat you to coffee."
He started off toward the campus coffee shop, towing Bree along in his wake. "Now, I never dream of catcalling a student here, Miss Bridget. I was simply applauding your lovely show and wanted to make sure you could hear me. Embarrassing you was never my intention." But it was a delightful bonus.
"I never did have the chance to join a fraternity," he continued wistfully. "I'm sure I would have if given the opportunity. Tell me, have you considered joining one of the sisterhoods here on campus?"
The key to getting most people to go along with what you wanted was to never give them a chance to object. If Miss Bridget was upset for some reason, then longer he kept this patter up, the longer she would have to stop worrying about--well. Whatever it was.
Bree was stuck somewhere between infuriated and flummoxed. The man leaned in, causing her to nearly recoil backwards; it looked like he was leaning towards her face, and she did not appreciate that sort of behavior in the least. But instead, he ducked under her arm, leaving hers around the back of his shoulders, and then wrapping his own arm around her shoulders. As if they were buddies. She was briefly off balance, both mentally, because what the shit, and physically, because he was a solid half a foot taller than her. He took advantage of that to start leading her across the quad.
She caught up somewhere around the time he was asking her if she was in a fucking sorority. She gripped the arm around her shoulders with both hands, pulling it off her and spinning behind his back, twisting his arm with her. It was very unnecessary. She was feeling spiteful.
"Professor, I think your knowledge of flowers isn't the only thing behind the times," she said sharply. "Most young women don't appreciate being shouted at by strange men on campus, or being randomly embraced. Perhaps you should attend another harassment workshop? Whichever one you took when the university hired you appears to have worn off."
As if her behavior was any more appropriate. But she had an excuse. She hated him. She did release his arm, however, with a slight push forwards in the hopes he would now leave her alone, or at the very least not try to touch her again.
Evan spun around, giving Bree a wounded look. He kept walking backwards, hoping she'd follow. Apparently whatever her problem was, she wasn't about to get over it.
"You seem upset," he said. "Is it because I offered to buy you coffee? I wasn't being sexist or anything, I just get a discount and I wanted to thank you for that lovely song, and for your help at the library the other day."
He beamed winningly, even white teeth shining in the faint light. In case that didn't work, he reached into his pocket, where he kept a stash of mint leaves off the plant on his desk. Obviously he couldn't get Miss Bridget to have any, not in the state she was in, but even a bit of contact with it would make him seem a little less threatening.
Threatening... Oh! "And I'm not trying to ask you out or come on to you, Miss Bridget! Is that what you're worried about? I never press my attentions where they're unwanted."
Damn, it was times like these when being a tall, well built man actually worked against him rather than in his favor. Usually he could figure out when people (particularly women) were nervous around him, but it seemed he'd made a misstep.
"I don't drink coffee," she snapped. "And that 'song' wasn't for you," she added, face flushing with the confirmation that he'd definitely been listening, god only knew for how long.
She flushed darker, stamping her feet angrily on the ground as she followed him, more because she was pissed off and wanted to get up in his face about it than any desire to actually go where he was going. "And if I thought you were asking me out, I wouldn't have let that arm go," she promised darkly. She'd shoved the last person who asked her out down the stairs. Mind, he'd been a werewolf, and he hadn't asked her out so much as suggested they fuck, but still, that was about the only 'asked out' she'd ever been. "Look, I'm not interested in..." she waved her hand vaguely at all of him. "Whatever it is you are, 'Professor.' I know this town is full of all sorts of things, and we all like to live and let live, but I have enough troublesome men in my life without another one flitting around." One. She had one troublesome man. But he was very troublesome and very man so he counted for about fifty.
"And those books better be in perfect condition when you return them," she added darkly, a threatening finger in his face. "The last time we rented out to a totally-normal-innocently-curious person who just so happened to want a bunch of witchy books, they had spilled god only knows what on half of them. Those are valuable."
"Oh! Well, if you don't drink coffee, the coffeeshop also has tea," he offered. "And if you like herbal teas, I have a vast array in my office." Wait, we're being nonthreatening. "You can take some to go if you have a class to get to," he added.
"As for 'whatever it is I am,' I'm nothing but a fan of your talents, both at the library and, apparently, when you're standing on rooftops singing. You're a remarkable girl, Miss Bridget, and that's all I wanted to tell you."
Evan finally turned around and started walking toward the coffeeshop. "The offer stands open," he called over his shoulder. If Miss Bridget didn't want to talk about whatever was upsetting her, then forcing his company on her certainly wouldn't help. Especially since she seemed... uneasy? Something about him was throwing her off, so she needed space. Evan could do space. One didn't live as long as he had without learning some patience, after all.
She would find him when she was ready.
She glared and fumed as he walked off, fists clenched by her sides and face flaming with both anger and latent embarrassment.
As if she'd be taking him up on anything! She had enough problems in her life.
Bree was a bitch.
In a lot of senses of the word. In this particular case, she was a bitch in the sense that no sooner than Mr. Jackson had left the library the first time, she'd put in a request for every single one of Radaghast's books herself.
Evan Jackson was also a bitch, however, because over half of them had missing pages.
Missing. Pages.
The librarian had been very unamused. He had paid for the damage, which had been no small amount, but it was the principle of the thing, both to the library, and to Bree herself. She'd probably have to track down those books herself if she wanted to get them replacements in any kind of timely manner. She was considering enlisting Jean's help, which just made her even angrier.
She had warned Evan Jackson about the condition of those books. Clearly he had done this to spite her.
She'd decided to find his office and have words. Which was when she realized there was no Evan Jackson in the faculty directory. She called several people in the humanities department. There was no Professor Evan Jackson, although one woman said 'oh, Evan!' in a very charmed sort of voice. She'd been unable to tell Bree what he taught, and did not seem to be of the opinion he was in the humanities at all.
She had been able to tell Bree what building his office was in. And from there?
Well. She had books he'd been with for over a month. She was no bloodhound, but she had a good nose. She was very pleased with herself when she found a door that reeked of him, though she could barely tell over the stench of herbs that was probably not nearly so strong to anyone else. It was probably pleasant, in fact.
She was even more pleased when she tried the doorknob and realized it was unlocked. Subtle was not her strong point. She slammed the door open and--ooh, this was a nice office no focus. There he was, lounging in a goddamn armchair of all things, sipping a cup of something that smelled vaguely herbal. She slammed the door shut as hard as she'd opened it, rattling the walls, then stormed right over him. She grabbed the tea cup straight from his hands, contemplated pouring it on him but there were too many books. So she set it on a side table and then gripped the front of his stupid goddamn sweater yet again, lifting him up towards her as she brought herself towards him, essentially straddling him in the armchair.
" Mister Jackson," she said, acid dripping from her words. "I think we need to have a talk about what I mean when I say a book should be returned in good condition."
Evan's life had been going very well lately. Between the break coming up and the midterms just before, he'd had his hands full making studyfocus potions, charms, and such for the anxious students who crowded his office. He liked helping the students--the rush of energy that went through campus as the students went to classes, rushed fraternities and sororities, and carried on all the other minutia of college life was wonderful for his plants.
He'd gotten quite a bit of progress on in his private studies, as well. The Radaghast he'd found at the public library was a fascinating fellow; after reading all his books he could find Evan has sent a letter to the publisher to pass along, if at all possible. If he was lucky, he could correspond with another alchemist soon and get a bright colleague to bounce his theories off of. In the meantime, studying the bits and bobs he'd--ah, liberated from the library books was extraordinarily enlightening.
Radaghast's expertise was in animals, rather than plants, and every time Evan perused the chapters and excerpts of theory he found something new to consider. He had just sat down for a cleansing cup of tea before starting a new experiment to balance the exhilarating effects of grapefruit oils by tempering it with some of the ingredients Radaghast had suggested in his notes. What if he tried using dried peel instead of--
The door slammed open and closed again, and Evan found himself confronted by a seething librarian.
"Miss Bridget!" Evan beamed. "I was afraid you'd never come by for your cup of tea." The sudden presence of a graduate student on his lap didn't seem to faze him much--he just scooched his legs to give Bree a better place to perch. "Would you like tea first or did you have something else in mind?"
"I cannot decide," she seethed. "If you are an idiot or not, Mr. Jackson, but acting like one is doing you no favors. So please. Try to focus." She swung her backpack off, smacking him in the chest with it as she shoved it between them and opened it up. "This." She pulled out one of Radaghast's books. "Is a library book, Mr. Jackson. How it works, is people borrow the books, and then return them in good condition so that they may be preserved for future generations."
She opened the book to where a page had been removed--carefully, and clearly on purpose, to her eye, so as not to damage the paper or spine overmuch. "The system falls apart, however, when motherfuckers like you tear pages out of my books." She snapped the book shut, and put it delicately back into her backpack, which she pulled of his lap and set to the side. Then she gripped his shoulders with both her hands and shoved him roughly back against the armchair. "It also falls apart when you lie to me about being a professor. Mostly because then I get very unhappy with you and put a goddamn hold on your account while trying to figure out whether or not you're worth telling the head librarian about."
She leaned back some, gripping his shirt again to bring him with her. "So now, you're going to give me the pages you removed, because I know you did it on purpose, or I'm going to tell a woman who is much scarier than either of us what you did and let her deal with it instead."
"So you don't want tea," Evan confirmed. He leaned forward and picked up his own cup from the side table, taking a sip. "Let me know if you change your mind."
"Now. Library books. Unfortunately, many of the books I checked out were quite old. Old books are not always preserved as well as they could be, and often pages come loose from old bindings. The glue looses its hold, or the page tears. You understand that, with your work on the restoration project. The pages which come out of the book are regrettable, but I did pay for them, still fulfilling the library contract."
"I also didn't lie about being a professor. I never said I was, I just gave you a faculty card and you assumed I taught here. I do work here, I just don't teach classes. Not everyone employed by a university is a professor, of course. If you'd like to downgrade me to a student card you certainly may--I do still attend classes from time to time."
Evan was a little concerned that Bree might fall over when she leaned back again. He slid an arm around, resting the hand not holding his tea against the small of her back. She had laid hands first, which meant it was find for him to touch her in return. No lines crossed. He raised an eyebrow at her flushed face, so close to his own. "Were there any other charges against me?"
"I'm not an idiot," she snarled. "You gave me a fake faculty card, because it said you worked in the humanities department. I have spoken to everyone short of the dean, and the only one who knew an Evan was more enamored with your oils and herbs than anything else. And furthermore, I know when--"
Her voice cut off abruptly when she felt his hand slide against the small of her back. She stiffened, her hands spasming where she gripped his sweater. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, clearly trying to contain herself from some act of great violence. "I try very hard not to break the limbs of witches, or mysterious things in general, Mr. Jackson, so I am going to give you five seconds to remove that hand from my back."
"I'm not a witch," Evan protested, mildly offended. "I'm an alchemist. And I'd like to point out that you're the one who came in my office and straddled my lap without a by-your-leave. I don't mind, but other folks might get the wrong idea, you know. I just didn't want you to fall over." He carefully pulled his hand away and sat back in his chair, taking a sip of tea.
"If you'd like to sit down and discuss your problem, whatever it may be, then you're free to arrange us how you like. There's room in this chair for both of us, or there's my desk chair. Are you sure you don't want some tea?"
Bree blinked, looking a little surprised at that. She'd actually thought he was, though she hadn't been one hundred percent certain. She recovered quickly, however. "I am allowed to get physical with you, because you lied to me and damaged my books," she said firmly.
He did have a point though, because with him sitting there absolutely refusing to be properly intimidated, it was less menacing and more... well, something not very menacing. She stood off him, though she gave him a shove as she did so. "I don't want your goddamn tea, you idiot, you just fucking told me you're an alchemist. And you have drugs right there," she added, pointing at a potted plant that was most certainly marijuana. "Why would I drink anything you handed me? Just give me the goddamn book pages."
"And by that logic I'm "allowed" to get physical with you, because you came into my office and menaced me," Evan pointed out. "I just haven't exercised that right, because I'm a gentleman."
When Miss Bridget stood up, he rose as well, slipping past her and sitting in his desk chair. "The armchair is more comfortable," he said with a nod. He rummaged around in the drawer at the bottom of the shelf unit and pulled out a familiar yellow box. "Look, this box is sealed. Store-bought. You can make the tea yourself if you want, but I'm certainly not going to poison you in my office. I'm just attempting to be polite."
He spared the plant in the corner a glance. "Are you sure those are drugs?" He silently activated a little charm linked to a paperweight on his desk. Some of his more... esoteric herbs blurred, just a bit. Just enough to no longer be identifiable. "As for the book pages... No."
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