Class started too early in the morning, in a science classroom equipped with lab tables, Bunsen burners, and the faint smell of past explosions gone wrong. Safety goggles and gloves were at each workstation, as were
supplies that might look familiar to anyone who'd taken a class with Professor Durden before
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You know that game where when your feet are propped up on something and you're nervous, you slip your shoes on and off trying not to drop them? Maybe it's a girl thing. "I don't like fighting." True. "I don't want to fight anybody." Lie. She had a name, a face, and an address, and she wouldn't say any of them out loud in a room with Katchoo if you stole her shoes and held a bunsen burner under her toes.
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He noticed the shoe game and tilted his head slightly, watching it. "And that's fine. But don't lose your shoes in the lab."
Burns on feet, not fun.
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Katchoo didn't call her on it, but she did send a quizzical look Francine's way.
At some point when Francine wasn't looking.
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"Thank you for explaining, Helen. I hope you enjoy class."
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Liar.
"And I'm more of a lover than a fighter."
Liiiiiiiiar.
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"So there's nobody you want to punch?"
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Chuck Bass had no concept of TMI, Chuck Bass needed no concept of TMI.
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Translation: I'm not admitting to that in a room with Chuck Bass.
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