(no subject)
"...which is what we can use to interpret the text to reveal Fitzgerald's obvious penchant for..."
Saguru was only half listening, pen dutifully taking notes that were more than a little bit distracted as he eyed the clock. Five more minutes, and the class would be over, and this week would be over, and he'd be hopping on a plane back to Japan just in time for the scheduled heist. If all went well. If the professor ever stopped droning on about how Fitzgerald.
Saguru hadn't even liked his books.
"...which does much to reveal the deep, criminal intent behind the character, their deepest desires come to..."
It was hard not to snort incredulously. This class was patently ridiculous. Two minutes. How this was related at all to his actual areas of study, Saguru had no idea, but it was a required class, and he didn't care to argue it. He was bending the rules enough as it was, missing so many classes for heists and attendance at other police functions.
"...Tender is the Night by next Monday, and be prepared to be tested on your knowledge of it."
Then class was over. Saguru tucked his notebook away, returned his pen to his bag, and promptly exited the room with perhaps a little more haste than was strictly necessary.
"Saguru, could you--" his classmate started, a girl he'd been helping with off and on, her powers of bullshit not quite up to the standards this class required. He turned to look at her, then paused, blinked, and let out a low whistle when he was abruptly in a different room entirely. One that was very distinctly not a part of his school.
Hm.
Options: he could, of course, thoroughly investigate the room before moving on, assume the worst, and be properly paranoid. Or he could go on, secure in the knowledge that he hadn't been delusional the last time he'd had a psychological evaluation, and that he would likely pick up more information exploring than he would staying here.
No reason to throw caution to the wind, however. He stepped over to the door of the door and peered around it, curiously.
... He might want to rethink that delusional conclusion.
Saguru was only half listening, pen dutifully taking notes that were more than a little bit distracted as he eyed the clock. Five more minutes, and the class would be over, and this week would be over, and he'd be hopping on a plane back to Japan just in time for the scheduled heist. If all went well. If the professor ever stopped droning on about how Fitzgerald.
Saguru hadn't even liked his books.
"...which does much to reveal the deep, criminal intent behind the character, their deepest desires come to..."
It was hard not to snort incredulously. This class was patently ridiculous. Two minutes. How this was related at all to his actual areas of study, Saguru had no idea, but it was a required class, and he didn't care to argue it. He was bending the rules enough as it was, missing so many classes for heists and attendance at other police functions.
"...Tender is the Night by next Monday, and be prepared to be tested on your knowledge of it."
Then class was over. Saguru tucked his notebook away, returned his pen to his bag, and promptly exited the room with perhaps a little more haste than was strictly necessary.
"Saguru, could you--" his classmate started, a girl he'd been helping with off and on, her powers of bullshit not quite up to the standards this class required. He turned to look at her, then paused, blinked, and let out a low whistle when he was abruptly in a different room entirely. One that was very distinctly not a part of his school.
Hm.
Options: he could, of course, thoroughly investigate the room before moving on, assume the worst, and be properly paranoid. Or he could go on, secure in the knowledge that he hadn't been delusional the last time he'd had a psychological evaluation, and that he would likely pick up more information exploring than he would staying here.
No reason to throw caution to the wind, however. He stepped over to the door of the door and peered around it, curiously.
... He might want to rethink that delusional conclusion.