Book 5, Chapter 5: Light from a Half-Closed Door (2/2)
Title: Light from a Half-Closed Door (2/2)
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo, with magickalmolly
Characters: Cate, Billy
Word count: 2924
Summary: Continues from here.
Index
Note: Original text and characterization of Cate created by magickalmolly; in some chapters through this story, we’ve adapted both text and characterization, but Molly’s work happily remains the foundation for Professor Blanchett.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Over the course of their walk to the sciences building, Cate's mind had cycled back over the last few days and the people she’d encountered on the Baskerville campus: old, dusty professors who had all but told her women have no place teaching something as difficult as science, their middle-aged colleagues sucking in their soft bellies and trying to catch her eye as she walks down the halls, the small number of female staffers giving her sidelong glances she’d worked to not shoot back at them harder.
Billy's offer to walk her back to her office had been so charming, there’d been no way to politely refuse even if she’d wanted to. There’s a chance the offer had been more in base friendliness than out of actual desire to walk and talk with her, but Cate had been willing to accept it just the same; besides, she’d been amused by Billy’s admission that there were now no secrets between them, a lie so broad Cate had met it with an enormous grin Billy had immediately mirrored before his face had fallen slightly again. Billy has secrets, but Cate has time; given enough of it, she’ll find ones Billy’s keeping even from himself.
"You know, Bill,” she says gently, nodding at the guest chair inside the office. “I don't always like what I do either. But I do love it, and I think it's good to know the difference. Academia may eat its own, but only if you allow yourself to be its prey." Cate looks back out beyond the doorframe to the hallway then, seeing it scattered with bleary-eyed students and scattered professors hurriedly making their way past. Cate notes faintly the difference between this hallway and the one from Billy's building; the energy here is perceptible. It's invigorating, and Cate thrives on it; it’s better than a morning cup of coffee.
She turns back again to look over where Billy is waiting, his gaze moving around the office. She has been mulling his words over in her mind, and while she can appreciate what he's said to her, she can't help but to be bothered by the simple fact that he hadn't answered her question. How ironic for a philosophy professor to change the subject from something she gathers he doesn't want to discuss at all to something he can teasingly rant about. He catches her eye suddenly and smiles, and Cate returns that smile easily, pushing away her mild frustration. Men are usually so easy to decipher; like an old familiar formula, one that will consistently produce the same results time and time again. But Billy is someone--something--different; an unknown variation on the usual rumpled species. She's bizarrely fascinated by him, and her own predisposition to become engrossed in a project makes Cate wonder what her investigations will uncover. She never for a moment questions her ability; she will figure him out, and sooner rather than later; why waste her own time pretending anything else?
Cate closes the door then and takes her turn to look around the room, sighing before she smiles again Billy’s way. "I'm afraid I have nothing to offer you, Bill; I’m not even sure which box my teapot is in. If you have time, I'd actually like to learn a bit more about Dominic from you. He speaks very highly of you, you know. I'd say he admires you quite a bit."
"He's a good young man," Cate hears Billy say carefully, the words moving around a smile tight but still warm; there’s obvious affection there, but before Cate can think through whether she sees something more, Billy continues. "Determined. And when his interest in a subject is piqued, he's quite unstoppable in his desire to learn. I'm sure you've had plenty of students like him."
Billy stands suddenly and crosses to the window, Cate following his gaze; he's seen something vaguely chrome-colored poking out of a box hidden in the corner, and he reaches for it slowly, like an elderly magpie. "I think I've found your rogue teapot," he laughs. "Hiding in plain sight." He brings it to her desk, peering at their reflection in the chrome as he leans in to show her. "See, there's the thing, Cate. You see many shiny things in a university like this. Bright little go-getters whose luster fades after three terms. They tarnish or rust or decay completely. But then there are others--" Billy runs his hands gently over the rounded edges of the teapot, and Cate watches, certain suddenly how it would feel to have his hands moving over the arch of her back, the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast. Billy offers the chrome pot to her then and she takes it from him silently, blinking herself out of that little reverie. "Others who start out with a matte finish, who are more aware of the dangers of fading--of failing. They work harder to stay clean, to stay away from anything that will further harm them. They work, full stop. They make the effort. And it pays off in the end."
Billy nods as if he’s won an argument with himself, and then sighs, his eyes and smile very gentle now. "Dominic will make the effort to succeed in your class," he says. "I admire his perseverance more than he could admire anything I've done for him. I'm an advisor, and whatever he’s received from me, it’s--part of my job. But he's on his own the moment he steps out of my office, and I think he'll quite surprise you. I recommended you to him--him to you--for a reason, Cate. Because you're brilliant and you'll help him understand. Because--” Billy’s hand reaches out again, this time to rest lightly on Cate’s arm. “I want what's best for him, as a student who's worked very hard to get this far."
At Billy’s pause, Cate forces herself not to speak immediately; she wants to register the heat of his palm seeping into her skin and the feeling of her own pleasant surprise. Cate tilts her head up to smile softly at Billy, eyes bright and cheeks stained with color, and then Cate slips her hand under Billy's, palm to palm, her fingers curling around to grasp it warmly. "You should have been a poet, Bill. Your analogies are lovely." She rises from her chair slowly, but doesn't let Billy step back, his hand still firmly grasped in her own. Cate watches with private amusement as Billy's eyes shift from their hands to her eyes, the difference in their heights more pronounced this close. Cate doesn't mind; younger men and smaller men always carry a fierceness to them, beneath their sweet exteriors.
Releasing Billy’s hand with a smile, Cate crosses her office and pushes open the door to the little washroom in the back, and answers Billy's unspoken question as she fills the teapot from the sink.
"I'm repainting the walls in here, obviously. The old color is hideous. And I'm having a few pieces of furniture brought in. My desk, which is here, a few bookshelves, maybe a loveseat, if I can fit it." Cate leans out of the washroom, laughing as she meets Billy's eyes across the room. "Every professor needs a place to take a nap, do we not?" Leaning back in again, Cate plugs in the hot plate she has there, and then places the teapot on top. She exits the washroom, but lingers in its doorway, resting her shoulder against the doorframe, and her arms cross comfortably over her chest.
"I want my office to be a reflection of how I work, for the most part neatly and organized; if it’s inviting as well, so much the better. I like to work with my students, Bill; that's why I'm here. I could be in a lab at Oxford right now, bringing it a lot more than what Baskerville is willing to pay me. But that isn't what I want." Cate feels her expression hardening a little, and then she shakes her head, laughing suddenly. "And the dust is welcome here; the spiders too. They can make great big webs in all my corners, and give me something to study when I can’t bear the four walls themselves anymore. Frankly, Bill,” she sighs. “After St. Andrews, I'm ready to live with some imperfection."
“Good thing, too,” Billy smirks and then Cate watches as begins to wander the small space again, running a hand along the walls, his appraising murmurs filling the room with warmth and charm. She imagines his lectures must be the same; intriguing and pleasant to listen to, despite the difficult subject. Billy’s expression turns to one of soft concentration, and he bites his lip as he stares at the walls before he faces Cate properly again. "If imperfection’s what you want, then you've come to the right place. And picked the right friends. You need some art in here, Cate. You need ..." He pauses for a moment, frowning and then nodding firmly, another argument won.
"Cate, d’you have your journal with you? The one you had in the caff? This one picture you drew, I don't remember the name of the--the one spider with the blue and violet cross sections in the-the scilia, is that what you'd call it?" Billy turns back to the wall and measures with his hands, his fingers tracing along old cracks. When he turns back to Cate, his eyes are bright. "Let me do this for you," he says. "In return for what you've done for me. Let me take that drawing and I’ll have it done for you, get it sketched out bigger from yours. We'll call it a welcome gift for your office, Cate. Let me do this. For you."
Cate's first instinct is to say no; the worst possible images come to her mind as she thinks of someone else’s concept of art attempting to stand beside her own. But even as hears herself say aloud Really, Bill, you don't have to, she also crosses to her desk and retrieves her journal. The photograph she showed Billy the other day, the one of her in the rainforest, sticks out between two pages, and Cate tucks it back in absently while she closes the distance between Billy and herself. She hands the journal over with a smile, and again she’s surprised by her willingness to share something like this with someone she's just only met. "I don't know which drawing you were referring to,” she says simply. “Why don't you show me?"
The kettle begins to whistle then, and as Cate ducks back into the washroom to make the tea, Billy wanders again to the window, clearly drawn to the light Cate has brought to this office. He flips through the journal quickly, frowning when he doesn't find the drawing he's searching for immediately, and starts again, going page by page. Cate smiles as she fills two mugs with tea bags and hot water, laughing to herself when she realizes the mugs are printed with the St. Andrews crest. When she offers one of the mugs to Billy, he takes a deep breath and laughs, too; a short exchange of knowing looks is all they need to acknowledge mutual survival.
After a moment Billy sets down his mug and offers the journal back to her, open to the page in question. The spider drawn there is an Araneidae; a web-weaver most commonly called a marbled spider, and one of Cate's favorites.
"You can take the book with you if you need it,” Cate murmurs over the rim of her mug of tea. “I don't imagine the page will photocopy well, and I'm certainly not going to tear it out. Besides, I know where to find you when I need it back."
"I'll guard it with my life," Billy smiles up at Cate and then sits down, taking a great swallow of the tea, visibly ignoring the burn of the liquid in favour of the taste. "Shouldn't take more than a few days, and then I'll be sure to get it back to you. You won't regret it." Cate can feel his eyes following her as she moves around the office, and when a student pokes his head in, she hears Billy take another deep breath and sees from the corner of her eye his eagerness to leaf back through the journal again to that drawing.
Cate struggles to listen to the young student at her door; her attention’s terribly divided, and she’s embarrassed to find it so. But she can see Billy leaning back in the chair, and the interest on his face makes her pride swell. It's a book she's worked on for years; started in graduate school and something she's continued as she moved into teaching. It's become habit to use the leather-bound book for drawings and notes, theories and formulas, anything she needed to remember. Cate wonders how much of the Latin Billy will understand, or the mathematical equations; it's certainly not poetry. Well, perhaps it is in its own way; science and nature and the beauty of both, if Billy can manage to see it.
Cate’s conversation takes longer than she expects it to, however, and after a few moments she hears Billy shifting from the chair and around the office again, stopping in front of Cate’s clock and comparing its time with what he sees on his own watch. Cate moves her student along, very nearly patting his shoulder encouragingly but firmly before he grasps the concept of actually leaving, and then turns to find Billy smiling at her, the journal now tucked into the inside pocket of his blazer and his hands shoved into his trouser pockets as he rocks back and forth a bit on his heels again, the portrait of a student himself, but for slightly better shoes.
"While I'm busying redecorating your office, Cate, may I make a suggestion?” he asks, and Cate laughs before she opens her hands, willing him to take his next shot. “Y'need some music in here. Some Etta James and some Chopin. Some Beatles or Mary Black. So your spiders can dance while you're not around to watch."
Cate leans against the door, unconsciously blocking the only exit, and smiles as Billy comes closer, voice dropping low and intimate, into a cadence she’s not yet heard--that of his own accent, more rolling and gentle. "We should have lunch. I've got a one o'clock class, so not today, but soon, right?"
Cate pretends to think it through, but there’s no real hesitation to her nod. What is going on here? some chilling voice she recognizes all too well speaks in her mind, but she shakes it off; yes, she is giving in to this strange wave of pleasure she feels around this man, this sort of shabbily charming git she’d ordinarily not give a second glance. He’s appealing, and she wouldn’t mind him finding her company just as pleasant; if that means she needs to play the chameleon changing its color to fit in better with its surroundings for a bit, well, then, she can live with that. This is the first time an encounter between them has gone smoothly all the way through, and Cate has no particular desire to change that.
"All my classes end by noon, and don't pick up again until three o’clock, so any day this week would be lovely." There’s a little back-and-forth between them before a date is picked, one that Cate hears herself drawing out longer than strictly necessary, and then she moves away from the door finally and unwillingly, understanding that they both have other more immediate priorities in their work, their students. One light touch to Billy’s hand, and then Cate opens the door to her office again, the noise from the hallway spilling over them both.
"I'll see you later this week, Bill. Have a good class this morning. Oh, and if you see our young Mr. Monaghan today, tell him I expect to see him on time Monday morning." Cate's words are light and teasing, and she gives Billy a parting smile as he nods and runs his hand through his hair. She watches him walk for a long while, until he turns the long corner that will lead him out into the air and then back to his own darker, mustier world. She shakes her head again, not really wanting to get back to her papers or desk, but comforted just from the memory of his smile and that nervous push of hand through hair to know that Billy’s head’s not yet back in the game of work, any more than hers is or will be until it must.
There’s triumph in being a sudden distraction, Cate knows that too from other, longer memory, and she takes that triumph with both hands from Billy now, her smile thin but wide as she steps back into the brightness of her office and the rest of the day.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo, with magickalmolly
Characters: Cate, Billy
Word count: 2924
Summary: Continues from here.
Index
Note: Original text and characterization of Cate created by magickalmolly; in some chapters through this story, we’ve adapted both text and characterization, but Molly’s work happily remains the foundation for Professor Blanchett.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Over the course of their walk to the sciences building, Cate's mind had cycled back over the last few days and the people she’d encountered on the Baskerville campus: old, dusty professors who had all but told her women have no place teaching something as difficult as science, their middle-aged colleagues sucking in their soft bellies and trying to catch her eye as she walks down the halls, the small number of female staffers giving her sidelong glances she’d worked to not shoot back at them harder.
Billy's offer to walk her back to her office had been so charming, there’d been no way to politely refuse even if she’d wanted to. There’s a chance the offer had been more in base friendliness than out of actual desire to walk and talk with her, but Cate had been willing to accept it just the same; besides, she’d been amused by Billy’s admission that there were now no secrets between them, a lie so broad Cate had met it with an enormous grin Billy had immediately mirrored before his face had fallen slightly again. Billy has secrets, but Cate has time; given enough of it, she’ll find ones Billy’s keeping even from himself.
"You know, Bill,” she says gently, nodding at the guest chair inside the office. “I don't always like what I do either. But I do love it, and I think it's good to know the difference. Academia may eat its own, but only if you allow yourself to be its prey." Cate looks back out beyond the doorframe to the hallway then, seeing it scattered with bleary-eyed students and scattered professors hurriedly making their way past. Cate notes faintly the difference between this hallway and the one from Billy's building; the energy here is perceptible. It's invigorating, and Cate thrives on it; it’s better than a morning cup of coffee.
She turns back again to look over where Billy is waiting, his gaze moving around the office. She has been mulling his words over in her mind, and while she can appreciate what he's said to her, she can't help but to be bothered by the simple fact that he hadn't answered her question. How ironic for a philosophy professor to change the subject from something she gathers he doesn't want to discuss at all to something he can teasingly rant about. He catches her eye suddenly and smiles, and Cate returns that smile easily, pushing away her mild frustration. Men are usually so easy to decipher; like an old familiar formula, one that will consistently produce the same results time and time again. But Billy is someone--something--different; an unknown variation on the usual rumpled species. She's bizarrely fascinated by him, and her own predisposition to become engrossed in a project makes Cate wonder what her investigations will uncover. She never for a moment questions her ability; she will figure him out, and sooner rather than later; why waste her own time pretending anything else?
Cate closes the door then and takes her turn to look around the room, sighing before she smiles again Billy’s way. "I'm afraid I have nothing to offer you, Bill; I’m not even sure which box my teapot is in. If you have time, I'd actually like to learn a bit more about Dominic from you. He speaks very highly of you, you know. I'd say he admires you quite a bit."
"He's a good young man," Cate hears Billy say carefully, the words moving around a smile tight but still warm; there’s obvious affection there, but before Cate can think through whether she sees something more, Billy continues. "Determined. And when his interest in a subject is piqued, he's quite unstoppable in his desire to learn. I'm sure you've had plenty of students like him."
Billy stands suddenly and crosses to the window, Cate following his gaze; he's seen something vaguely chrome-colored poking out of a box hidden in the corner, and he reaches for it slowly, like an elderly magpie. "I think I've found your rogue teapot," he laughs. "Hiding in plain sight." He brings it to her desk, peering at their reflection in the chrome as he leans in to show her. "See, there's the thing, Cate. You see many shiny things in a university like this. Bright little go-getters whose luster fades after three terms. They tarnish or rust or decay completely. But then there are others--" Billy runs his hands gently over the rounded edges of the teapot, and Cate watches, certain suddenly how it would feel to have his hands moving over the arch of her back, the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast. Billy offers the chrome pot to her then and she takes it from him silently, blinking herself out of that little reverie. "Others who start out with a matte finish, who are more aware of the dangers of fading--of failing. They work harder to stay clean, to stay away from anything that will further harm them. They work, full stop. They make the effort. And it pays off in the end."
Billy nods as if he’s won an argument with himself, and then sighs, his eyes and smile very gentle now. "Dominic will make the effort to succeed in your class," he says. "I admire his perseverance more than he could admire anything I've done for him. I'm an advisor, and whatever he’s received from me, it’s--part of my job. But he's on his own the moment he steps out of my office, and I think he'll quite surprise you. I recommended you to him--him to you--for a reason, Cate. Because you're brilliant and you'll help him understand. Because--” Billy’s hand reaches out again, this time to rest lightly on Cate’s arm. “I want what's best for him, as a student who's worked very hard to get this far."
At Billy’s pause, Cate forces herself not to speak immediately; she wants to register the heat of his palm seeping into her skin and the feeling of her own pleasant surprise. Cate tilts her head up to smile softly at Billy, eyes bright and cheeks stained with color, and then Cate slips her hand under Billy's, palm to palm, her fingers curling around to grasp it warmly. "You should have been a poet, Bill. Your analogies are lovely." She rises from her chair slowly, but doesn't let Billy step back, his hand still firmly grasped in her own. Cate watches with private amusement as Billy's eyes shift from their hands to her eyes, the difference in their heights more pronounced this close. Cate doesn't mind; younger men and smaller men always carry a fierceness to them, beneath their sweet exteriors.
Releasing Billy’s hand with a smile, Cate crosses her office and pushes open the door to the little washroom in the back, and answers Billy's unspoken question as she fills the teapot from the sink.
"I'm repainting the walls in here, obviously. The old color is hideous. And I'm having a few pieces of furniture brought in. My desk, which is here, a few bookshelves, maybe a loveseat, if I can fit it." Cate leans out of the washroom, laughing as she meets Billy's eyes across the room. "Every professor needs a place to take a nap, do we not?" Leaning back in again, Cate plugs in the hot plate she has there, and then places the teapot on top. She exits the washroom, but lingers in its doorway, resting her shoulder against the doorframe, and her arms cross comfortably over her chest.
"I want my office to be a reflection of how I work, for the most part neatly and organized; if it’s inviting as well, so much the better. I like to work with my students, Bill; that's why I'm here. I could be in a lab at Oxford right now, bringing it a lot more than what Baskerville is willing to pay me. But that isn't what I want." Cate feels her expression hardening a little, and then she shakes her head, laughing suddenly. "And the dust is welcome here; the spiders too. They can make great big webs in all my corners, and give me something to study when I can’t bear the four walls themselves anymore. Frankly, Bill,” she sighs. “After St. Andrews, I'm ready to live with some imperfection."
“Good thing, too,” Billy smirks and then Cate watches as begins to wander the small space again, running a hand along the walls, his appraising murmurs filling the room with warmth and charm. She imagines his lectures must be the same; intriguing and pleasant to listen to, despite the difficult subject. Billy’s expression turns to one of soft concentration, and he bites his lip as he stares at the walls before he faces Cate properly again. "If imperfection’s what you want, then you've come to the right place. And picked the right friends. You need some art in here, Cate. You need ..." He pauses for a moment, frowning and then nodding firmly, another argument won.
"Cate, d’you have your journal with you? The one you had in the caff? This one picture you drew, I don't remember the name of the--the one spider with the blue and violet cross sections in the-the scilia, is that what you'd call it?" Billy turns back to the wall and measures with his hands, his fingers tracing along old cracks. When he turns back to Cate, his eyes are bright. "Let me do this for you," he says. "In return for what you've done for me. Let me take that drawing and I’ll have it done for you, get it sketched out bigger from yours. We'll call it a welcome gift for your office, Cate. Let me do this. For you."
Cate's first instinct is to say no; the worst possible images come to her mind as she thinks of someone else’s concept of art attempting to stand beside her own. But even as hears herself say aloud Really, Bill, you don't have to, she also crosses to her desk and retrieves her journal. The photograph she showed Billy the other day, the one of her in the rainforest, sticks out between two pages, and Cate tucks it back in absently while she closes the distance between Billy and herself. She hands the journal over with a smile, and again she’s surprised by her willingness to share something like this with someone she's just only met. "I don't know which drawing you were referring to,” she says simply. “Why don't you show me?"
The kettle begins to whistle then, and as Cate ducks back into the washroom to make the tea, Billy wanders again to the window, clearly drawn to the light Cate has brought to this office. He flips through the journal quickly, frowning when he doesn't find the drawing he's searching for immediately, and starts again, going page by page. Cate smiles as she fills two mugs with tea bags and hot water, laughing to herself when she realizes the mugs are printed with the St. Andrews crest. When she offers one of the mugs to Billy, he takes a deep breath and laughs, too; a short exchange of knowing looks is all they need to acknowledge mutual survival.
After a moment Billy sets down his mug and offers the journal back to her, open to the page in question. The spider drawn there is an Araneidae; a web-weaver most commonly called a marbled spider, and one of Cate's favorites.
"You can take the book with you if you need it,” Cate murmurs over the rim of her mug of tea. “I don't imagine the page will photocopy well, and I'm certainly not going to tear it out. Besides, I know where to find you when I need it back."
"I'll guard it with my life," Billy smiles up at Cate and then sits down, taking a great swallow of the tea, visibly ignoring the burn of the liquid in favour of the taste. "Shouldn't take more than a few days, and then I'll be sure to get it back to you. You won't regret it." Cate can feel his eyes following her as she moves around the office, and when a student pokes his head in, she hears Billy take another deep breath and sees from the corner of her eye his eagerness to leaf back through the journal again to that drawing.
Cate struggles to listen to the young student at her door; her attention’s terribly divided, and she’s embarrassed to find it so. But she can see Billy leaning back in the chair, and the interest on his face makes her pride swell. It's a book she's worked on for years; started in graduate school and something she's continued as she moved into teaching. It's become habit to use the leather-bound book for drawings and notes, theories and formulas, anything she needed to remember. Cate wonders how much of the Latin Billy will understand, or the mathematical equations; it's certainly not poetry. Well, perhaps it is in its own way; science and nature and the beauty of both, if Billy can manage to see it.
Cate’s conversation takes longer than she expects it to, however, and after a few moments she hears Billy shifting from the chair and around the office again, stopping in front of Cate’s clock and comparing its time with what he sees on his own watch. Cate moves her student along, very nearly patting his shoulder encouragingly but firmly before he grasps the concept of actually leaving, and then turns to find Billy smiling at her, the journal now tucked into the inside pocket of his blazer and his hands shoved into his trouser pockets as he rocks back and forth a bit on his heels again, the portrait of a student himself, but for slightly better shoes.
"While I'm busying redecorating your office, Cate, may I make a suggestion?” he asks, and Cate laughs before she opens her hands, willing him to take his next shot. “Y'need some music in here. Some Etta James and some Chopin. Some Beatles or Mary Black. So your spiders can dance while you're not around to watch."
Cate leans against the door, unconsciously blocking the only exit, and smiles as Billy comes closer, voice dropping low and intimate, into a cadence she’s not yet heard--that of his own accent, more rolling and gentle. "We should have lunch. I've got a one o'clock class, so not today, but soon, right?"
Cate pretends to think it through, but there’s no real hesitation to her nod. What is going on here? some chilling voice she recognizes all too well speaks in her mind, but she shakes it off; yes, she is giving in to this strange wave of pleasure she feels around this man, this sort of shabbily charming git she’d ordinarily not give a second glance. He’s appealing, and she wouldn’t mind him finding her company just as pleasant; if that means she needs to play the chameleon changing its color to fit in better with its surroundings for a bit, well, then, she can live with that. This is the first time an encounter between them has gone smoothly all the way through, and Cate has no particular desire to change that.
"All my classes end by noon, and don't pick up again until three o’clock, so any day this week would be lovely." There’s a little back-and-forth between them before a date is picked, one that Cate hears herself drawing out longer than strictly necessary, and then she moves away from the door finally and unwillingly, understanding that they both have other more immediate priorities in their work, their students. One light touch to Billy’s hand, and then Cate opens the door to her office again, the noise from the hallway spilling over them both.
"I'll see you later this week, Bill. Have a good class this morning. Oh, and if you see our young Mr. Monaghan today, tell him I expect to see him on time Monday morning." Cate's words are light and teasing, and she gives Billy a parting smile as he nods and runs his hand through his hair. She watches him walk for a long while, until he turns the long corner that will lead him out into the air and then back to his own darker, mustier world. She shakes her head again, not really wanting to get back to her papers or desk, but comforted just from the memory of his smile and that nervous push of hand through hair to know that Billy’s head’s not yet back in the game of work, any more than hers is or will be until it must.
There’s triumph in being a sudden distraction, Cate knows that too from other, longer memory, and she takes that triumph with both hands from Billy now, her smile thin but wide as she steps back into the brightness of her office and the rest of the day.