Hound55 — Roleplayer Guild

Peter snatched up his backpack and swung for the quiet of a rooftop, far above the sounds of the city.

Sitting down cross-legged, he pulled his laptop out of his bag and woke it up with a tap of the spacebar.

The screen slowly warmed to colour and its previous screen.  Until his attention was drawn to an icon in the bottom corner.

"No, no, no... C'mon...  I had a frontrow seat to this, and you cut out now?!  Trask, what good are you?"

Peter digs into his bag for an older solution and starts rapidly scrawling out everything he could remember from the Bestman and Toomes tech show on notepad with pen, and how it unravelled to the chaos and carnage which led to his own--  Spiderman's fight, rather-- with Toomes.  The violence and harm which befelled the Press row.

Thirty minutes later he lookes at the smudgy, unimpressively scrawled pages, whilst he rotated his now cramping wrist.

"Uhh...  Maybe it'll look better typed up...  First with the news counts for something, right?"

He stuffed the paper and the laptop he'd used to lean on back in his backpack, and spied the Flatiron building - a building he knew had public rooftop access to the elevators downstairs.

"News courtesy of the World Wide Web-slinger, no thanks to Trask..."

One quick change back into his specially packed first-day office attire later, and he rushed and hustled for his inaugural trip to the offices of the Daily Bugle.

Peter stepped out of the elevator, more nervous than he had been brawling and falling all over the city less than a few hours earlier.

Of course his Spidey suit breathed a bit better than what he was wearing now...

The signage said this floor was for 'The Offices of the Daily Bugle - Administration, Journalist Staff and Editorial' but he wasn't entirely sure where to go.  He carefully trod by each and every cube and desk looking for one of the familiar faces of Mister Jameson or Mister Robertson, but neither seemed to be anywhere he could see them.  He was starting to fear the worst and that he'd have to bother one of his busy co-workers and ask their whereabouts until he saw the signage on the door of the office once he got to the back row.

He exhaled in relief at sparing himself the less than positive first impression with his new co-workers.

There was a girl busily working at two screens at the desk in front of Mister Jameson's office.

"Oh, great!  Umm...  I need to go in there.  I-- uh, just started working here... at the Daily Bugle."  He gave the girl workng at the desk a broad smile, brimming with pride as he said the full name of his new place of work.

"I'm Peter Parker."

The girl at the desk was only a few years older than he was, himself.  He began to wonder if that was a standard hiring practice, but quickly cut the line of thinking.  For some reason he picked up on a hint of recognition as he gave his name.

Oh... he was supposed to come in earlier, to clear up finalising all of the new employment paperwork.  Maybe that's why she knew the name.  Had they been waiting on him?

He decided to break the ice and discomfort by throwing more anxious words on the fire.  That'd fix it.  Nervous talking.  The answer to everything, whether it's fighting a winged lunatic engineering genius, starting a new job, or making a first impression with a--

"I'm getting the sense that what Aunt May suggested I wear to make a good first impression has me wildly overdressed..."  An awkward smile, as he broke eye contact to look around the room at the other workers, before realising the implication of what he'd just said.  His eyes widening, quickly.

"Not that you don't really look nice in what you're wearing!"

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more embarrassed as his scrambling was met with an amused smirk.

"Riiiight..."

He decided to move along for the scene of the wreckage, digging into his bag for the papers.

"I--uhh-- I have some paperwork with me.  Uhmm.  Mister Jameson said I was supposed to bring this in.  Oh... and-- umm... I have this too!"

He slapped his handwritten mess down on her desk, and immediately felt this was not an improvement in how this first impression was going.  Selfconscious over the scrawl, and as if she could somehow read it and judge him on the contents despite it being clearly impossible for her to have any takeaway from his first effort at an article beyond his own blogsite.  His stomach felt like it was twisting, churning, tightening.

"Err-- first... story..?  Or article?  Or news bit or whatever?"  He mumbled, as if the smudged crinkled mess needed further explanation because of the means of delivery.  He was about to mention the network being down, when she replied.

"Copy."

"Roger-dodger, over and out?"  He quick-wittedly snapped back before his mind could edit for readership.  Oh no...  But then...

Her smile widened.

The tightening sensation that had been building in his chest relaxed a little.

"No it's-- it's called 'copy'."  She clarified kindly.

"Okay...  I've got to be honest.  I've never worked--"

"In a newsroom?"

"Yeah, that either..."  Peter replied, eyeing the rows of desks and cubes and hoping for a silent death with minimal witnesses.

"It's okay.  I'm Betty.  I handle most of the administrative work for the paper, and a fair amount of the human resources and general daily operations work as well."  So he'd come to the right place for dropping in his paperwork, if not in how he presented the 'copy' for admission.

"That seems-- like a lot."  Peter noted.  Betty smiled, thinking he was being kind with his appraisal of her job description.

More accurately he was wondering just how much Jameson was going to have him do.  He'd hoped he'd be writing and presenting science and tech based articles, but they had seemed far more impressed with the layout and work he'd put in administering his own blogsite.  With news of just how much he was leaning on Betty to cover multiple jobs, it made him wonder if this job wouldn't take too much away from school and the internship he'd just agreed to take on.

But she smiled at his comment, and those concerns seemed to disappear immediately.  Frittering away in the air between them.

"Well, it keeps me busy.  And between you and me, Peter, I happen to be very good at it."  Her smile widened, and her eyes flashed.

Are we--?  Is this flirting?  

He'd never had much experience with the notion, or for that matter the attention of the fairer sex in general.  But the workplace was a different world.  One to grow into.  Is this what that world was like?

He found his own smile widening without any effort on his part, as he attempted to give some type of coherent response when...

"I-- uh--"

"PARKER!  Is that you out there?!  Quit chatting up the admin girl and get your butt in here!"

The pair immediately started blushing, turning away from one another.

Then Peter noticed from the corner of his eye, that she'd responded in similar kind to how he had.

Wait-- did she just--  As well?  Does she feel-- or think-- or whatever...  The same way?

She'd seemed so much more grown up than him though.  Sophisticated.  Even if she was only a few years older.

Peter stammered out a response to try and cover both of their shyness from the explosion of the Editor-in-Chief.

"I wasn't-- I mean-- I--"

"This is why you don't hire kids, Robbie!  It's all puberty and hormones in here!  PARKER!  Don't make me say it twice!  Get in here!"

"Brant!  I want these office plants rotated!  Get me something that absorbs pheromones!"

"I... don't think that's a thing, Mister Jameson."

His reply followed an unintelligible growl.

"I don't pay you for 'I don't think', Brant!  Research!  If it exists, I want them here by Friday!  Unless-- they're that giant flower that smells like rotting meat.  Anything else, get it in here!"

Peter went inside with his scrawled pages, leaving the admin sheet on her desk and closed the door behind him, he tried to sneak a peek at Betty one more time, but she'd quickly returned to her work.  Any sign of previously being flustered now long gone.

"Parker!  Sit down!"

Peter sat down in a chair on the same side of the desk as Robbie.

"What've you got there?!"

"Oh, I, umm...  decided to take the initiative and went out to a tech show.  This was my write up... uhh... copy."  He stumbled to add the new learned terminology.

"You haven't even got your press credentials yet.  And you weren't put on assignment for it...  Where do you get off--"

Looking for a floatation device, Peter turned to Robbie.

"It was the-- uhh-- Bestman and Toomes tech show..."

Recognition of the name quickly flashed across Jameson's face.

"Parker!  Here!  Give it here.  What's the hold up?!"

Peter put his scrawled pages on the desk.

"Sorry for how it's presented...  There was a network outage."

"Trask's network.  All phones and devices which use it have been affected.  We know."

"Crap... crap... unusable...  Unverified.  Crap...  We can't print any of this.  What is this?  What are you giving me?  What am I supposed to do with any of this?"  Jameson flung the pages back across the table at the younger man, where they floated in the air drifting slowly to the floor along with any dreams of an easy transition into the workplace.

"But that's--  What happened.  I was there."

"And who the Hell are you?  Nobody.  That's who.  Where are your sources?  Who have you spoken with to confirm any of this?"

"Well-- who should I have confirmed with?  He tore through the Press Row.  They all probably got taken away by emergency services.  Nobody else would have this yet, to confirm any of it."

"I'm supposed to believe that?!  Then how'd you get this?"

"I didn't have my press credentials yet, they weren't gonna let me in.  I had to sneak the guy at the door cash to get him to let me in and stand at the back."

Jonah shot Robbie a look.

"Nobody else has it, Jonah..."

Jonah shook his finger, an idea forming.  With one finger on a push button phone he dialled a number.

"Wolf.  This is 'J'.  I need--"

"Ohh, I don't have time for this... call Media Relations."  A woman's voice forced back the sigh which came from frequent exposure to J. Jonah Jameson.

"Time sensitive, and you owe me.  I got a kid here who's claiming that this Bestman and Toomes show turned ugly.  Press Row battered.  Guy turned costumed villain.  And a powered battle over the city."

There was a noteable punctuated silence hanging over the phone.

"...As you are aware, regular uniformed officers can't confirm news stories, regardless how accurate they appear to be and consistent with information provided over the internal despatch network."

"Thanks Wolf, you're a doll."

The female voice at the other end didn't even try to fight back her cringing sigh in response this time, as she disconnected the call.

Jameson hit another button on his phone for the intercom.

"Urich!  Get in here, we've got exclusive on the Toomes breakdown!"

"I don't have time for this.  I'm on crime beat.  I'm expecting a call back regarding mob activity operating out of Hell's Kitch--"

Jonah tapped the intercom button repeatedly until it blasted a chirp in the journalist's face.

"You're crime beat.  This is crime...  ....adjacant.  Get in here.  You're interviewing the kid, you're gonna show him the broad strokes of how an article like this gets made, and then you get right back to it."

"Jonah, I don't have time to be holding some kid's hand whil--"  Another loud chirp interrupted him.

Jonah turned to the younger man across the table.

"I'm pairing you with Ben Urich.  He's a true reporter.  You tell him your story when he interviews you.  Watch how he re-shapes the information.  Tells the story.  I don't want to see 'This'..."  A fist held the scrunched pages which had floated back onto his desk.  "...again."

Peter knew he had his first day at the New U internship later this afternoon, leading into the early evening.  He wanted to say something, but he already seemed to be on shaky ground with the Editor-in-Chief as it was.  And the job was the only thing that made the internship possible in the first place.

It's just one time...  How late could I really be from this anyway?

"One last thing...  We're going to attach some of these videos you've been collecting for the story.  From your site.  How've you been getting them?"

"Videos?"

"Yes, these small videos.  3 to five seconds long.  Some are almost ten seconds.  The Bugle's site should be able to handle the size.  Draws the viewer's eye."

"Oh, you mean the GIFs?  I've just been... snapping them on my phone."

"Yes!  Get me Gifs of Spider-Man!

Robbie cringed.  "That's not... that's not how you pronounce the word."

"What?  I said what he said."

The pair seated opposite gave both gave wincing shrugs.

"That's not how you pronounce the 'G'."

"Well, to be fair, there's some debate about how it's said..."

"Some... but either way, not like that."  Robbie held a distasteful expression on his face.

"Gifs...  Gggifs.  Giiifs..."

"Oh, absolutely not..."  Robbie said.  Peter cringed, a look of sympathy on his face as if Jonah had trodden in something unpleasant.

"Get me... short videos of convenient size for mass distribution on our publication site without loss of visual quality through data compression... of Spider-Man!"

"I think... technically, I still own those through my own rights held over my blogsite.  You said you might have me make new blogs, and handle administration of the site.  But existing videos from my site, and new videos I haven't taken yet.  We never discussed that in negotiations."

Robbie smirked at the audacity of the younger man who sat next to him.  A vein above Jonah's brow became visible, as his teeth gritted ever tighter in an expression his dentist would doubtless warn him about.

"You're staff."

"I am.  But it falls outside of the purview of my job description as we agreed.  I should know, I just dropped it in a few minutes ago."

A low growl was emitted from the elder newsman across the desk.

"Freelancers scale.  Until we can rectify the error in your job description."

"So there'll be a pay increase included, presumably.  Since this is additional work we never discussed."

This bargain from hiring a kid was becoming less of a bargain with every passing day.

Robbie's smirk was in danger of turning into outright laughter.

The door seemed to open and both Robbie and Peter seemed to sail out of the room on a breeze of J. Jonah Jameson's ranting screams about the work ethic and mercenary behaviour of the youth of the day.

Peter found himself disappointed to see that Betty wasn't at her desk when he drifted out of his office towards Ben Urich's desk.

 S P I D E R - M A N
S P I D E R - M A N

"OhgodOhgodOhgod--I'mlateI'msolateI'msolate--"

Peter swung across the city.  He'd had to change back into his Spidey suit to get across town, the session with Urich had taken far longer than he'd anticipated, and now he was at risk of spreading the less than ideal first impressions across multiple locations, from his new job to his new internship.

He dropped into a back alley and performed a quickchange and threw his backpack over his shoulder, stepping back onto the sidewalk out the front of the New U Technologies building near Central Park.

He rushed inside, hoping that something had caused everybody else to be late.

No such luck.

He quickly scurried across the floor and put his backpack in an open box locker.  He replaced his sportsjacket with a labcoat.  There was a blonde girl about his age with a headband holding everything perfectly in place.  He assumed she was another of the interns.

Running late he'd have to cut corners, make some asssumptions, to get caught up without holding everybody back and--

He overheard a sarcastic jibe from Connors at his expense.

Limit shots like that..

"Hi-- yes-- hey.  Sorry about this, Mister Connors--"

"DOCTOR Connors."

"Doctor Connors.  Sorry."  Peter corrected, getting flustered from things turning even more against him.

Maybe don't cut that corner...

"I just started a new job so that I could afford to begin this internship.  It's remote and I don't normally have to go into the office, but today there was an orientation, they put my details on HR file-- you don't... care about the details... but it was a one off, sir.  It won't be happening again.  I'm really sorry about this."

Littered with at best half-truths and omissions, but its not like Connors would want a full detailed breakdown.

"Well, you're going to have to make up everything that you missed.  Understand as well, that I am not very happy.  This position is an incredible privilege that most in your position would revel in the opportunity.  You haven't made a very good first impression."

"Yes sir, I'm sorry."

"Yes, so I heard.  Just do better."

Looking to cut corners and avoid further negative attention, he got to work copying the assembly of apparatus that his fellow blonde intern had collected in an assortment in front of her.  And then he noticed her looking directly at him, he smiled back.  Being friendly?  Her eyes seemed wide.  Wait, too wide, what's she--?

"Mister Parker, if you had BOTHERED to ask, you would have realised that the collection of test tubes and flasks in front of Ms Stacy, that you have attempted to copy from, are in need of a clean.  You may as well clean them now as well, since you've soiled them."

Shaking her head.  Maybe shouldn't have cut that corner, either...

As Doctor Connors had his back turned Peter quickly asked the blonde girl in a hushed whisper.

"Quick!  What did I miss?"

"The lockers, the emergency contact numbers, where the toilets are and the in-house method for cleaning test tubes and flasks - acid pre-wash, soap and water, three times distilled water rinse."

The youth dared to turn and look at her whilst Connors back remained turned.

"Thanks.  Peter.  Midtown High."

"Gwen.  Standard High."

So... not being friendly.  But not unfriendly.

Peter was walking Gwen to 'the Library' where she'd do her homework until her father came off his shift.

It had started to get dark, and whilst she'd made the trek through Manhattan to the library pretty much every nightfor a few years now, this was the first time from the direction of their internship at New U Technologies and not her school.

Her father was a police officer in the NYPD, she had said.

"So that was something new...  A whole day full of new."

"Oh yes, you said you had a new job.  What's that like?"

His thoughts strayed back to Betty, a smile flickered across his face.

"Kinda a lot.  But...  I guess fun.  I don't know if its supposed to be fun, but it has been."

"So what is it?" 

"Oh, I'm uh-- what did they call it?  Science and Technology Contributor and Online Administrator for the Daily Bugle."

"Wooooow.  Well that's pretty impressive.  So what exactly do you do?"

"Well, its hard to say yet.  I interviewed for an article today, but I think generally they're I'm in charge of taking care of the paper's online website."

"Oh..."  She held her tongue.  She'd seen their online presence.  It was far from impressive.

"Oh... no no no.  I haven't really started yet.  It was my first day in the office today.  I get what you mean though, it's a bit--  ehhhhhh.  Still, if it wasn't I guess I wouldn't have a job."

"Well, it should look good on a college application,"  she smiled to him warmly, "let me guess, you're trying to get into Empire State U on scholarship as well?"

Peter shrugged back with his own smile.  "Guilty."

"Don't let my Dad hear you say that..."  Gwen joked back, daring to probe beyond her quiet first impression.

"My Dad won't let me work anywhere just yet.  Said he wants me just focusing on school.  Which... is nice that I don't have to, but I'd kind of like to not have to ask to borrow money any time I want to do anything."

"Well, I used to tutor a fair bit before I got the job.  It's not a lot of money, but its something.  If you're looking for some kind of-- what do you call it-- money independence?"

"Financial independence."

"Yeah.  And with tutoring, you know, you can get some kind of control over how many you take on, how many people you're working with and who.  So there's money, but its not like a real job, where you can't say no."

Suddenly Peter's pocket vibrated.  He had it on silent, not wanting things to turn any worse at the internship.  He pulled it from his pocket, and pressed the screen to answer, not recognising the number.

"Hel-lo..?"  Peter asked.

A loud tearful outburst, before any words were spoken had Peter pull the phone from his ear briefly.

Gwen looked on, with her brow raised, not without her own curiosity over what was happening.

""Hello?  Is this...  Peter Parker?  Hi, my name is Felicia Hardy-- and-- and I really need help.  I'm taking freshman electronics at Empire State University, and I got told by my teacher that he's gonna flunk me if I-- I-- don't get a good score on my next-- my next-- oh God..."  Breathy sobs and tears permeated through the call.

"Well, the thing is...  I kind of recently got a new job, and I've started this internship, and between that and my... extracurriculars, I'm kind of time-short at the moment.  I actually thought I took my number down from all of the noticeboards I had it listed on..."  Peter replied.  Gwen deduced it was about one of the tutoring jobs he'd just mentioned, and turning her head away to try not to pry anymore than she already had.

"Please-- please I really need your help--!"  The girl's voice returned with breathy desperation.  "I'm local!  And I can't fail this class.  Oh please!  I'll send you my address now!"

The call dropped out before Peter could reply.  "He--ll--  Hi--?"

He looked at his phone somewhat ambivalent about the call which just took place.  Before realising something.

His phone vibrated again as a pin was dropped.  He sighed and started replying in a text, which he quickly fired off

"Oh--!  Umm... network's back up."  He said to Gwen, holding out his phone for her to see.

Suddenly his phone vibrated again, and a picture image flashed across the screen.  Gwen's brows raised and a smirk crossed her face.

"So I see, you CAN choose your jobs.  I guess I'm seeing the benefits in that."

"Huh..?  What do you mea--?"

He saw the image on his phone and his face flushed red, as he immediately felt guilt.  Betty's face turned to disappointment in his mind's eye.

"Whoa--  I'd... I'd already said I would?  What was?  Why--  You saw!  I didn't--  I'd already agreed before I saw what she looked like!"

"Uh huh..."  Gwen smiled, revelling in watching Peter squirm.

"I'd never heard from her or seen what she looked like before..."

He kept digging.  She kept smiling.  His face turned ever more crimson.

"Uh huh..."

He hadn't just done it because the girl seemed hot, had he?  I mean, how could he know?

Gwen let him off the hook, having had enough of watching him squirm, she changed the subject.

"You said the network was down?"

"Yeah, whole Trask network.  Affected all devices under the provider."  He grabbed the lifeline with both hands.

"Ugh... Trask."  He felt warmed by her response.  It wasn't a unique one.  Trask had his own... problematic leanings.  Peter didn't particularly like to think he was adding to his company's coffers.

"I know...  I'm only with them because I'm still under the plan from when my Aunt May first put me on."

They came to a stop opposite Central Park, before Peter suddenly realised where they were.  He'd just been putting one foot in front of the other next to the blonde girl, without ever asking for a destination beyond 'the library'.

"Wait-- this is-- The Museum of Natural History..?!?"  He exclaimed.

"Yeah, my Dad got us a family pass.  We keep it up every year.  The Gottesman Research Library is up on the Fourth floor around the back.  I just go up there for my homeork til my Dad finishes.  20th Precinct is just a couple of blocks over."

She turned away, to start walking towars the entrance.

"That is. SO. FREAKING. COOL!"

Gwen lowered her head and didn't turn back to face him for a few seconds, before brushing her hair slightly away as she added a "Thanks for walking me here, Peter.  Umm-- a family pass is for two adults and two students and it's just me and my Dad, so maybe if ever you and even your Aunt..."

"Wow!  Yeah, absolutely!  This is so cool!  I mean...  I can't now.  I've gotta go do this tutoring thing, but yeah, that'd be amazing!  I love this place!  The Rose Center!  The Animal Halls!"

"Oh.  Yeah..."  She kept a small smile which didn't match his enthusiasm.  "I'll catch you at New U next time, I guess.  Have fun with your tutor job."

"Well, that's not my job.  I mean, its just a one-off gig.  My job's over at the Bu--  oh man!  I'm gonna be late again though, aren't I?  Yeah, catch you next time, Gwen!"  He called back in a frantic panic running back in the direction they'd just walked from, not noticing the girl's expression drop at the thought.

His phone vibrated in his pocket as he ran down the sidewalk, slipping by crowds with fancy footwork, on his way back to Midtown following the pin location.

It was his Aunt May.

"Anna Watson has her lovely niece Mary Jane down from--"

"Nope.  No time for that.  But that reminds me."

He fired back a quick text reply apologising that he'd be late home, he'd had a last minute request from a tutor job and he'd have to find the time to get down to the ESU campus and pull his number from any further jobs again, since he was going to be busy.  And then used the excuse as a reason to pivot away from being able to meet 'the lovely Mary Jane'.

He shuddered at the thought.

Then his thoughts drifted to Betty.  Would it be too forward for him to ask her out somewhere sometime?  How long could he work there before it would seem weird?  Was it weird anyway?  Would it always be?

She was only a little older than him, semed very kind, very--

"Hey, watch where you're goin', Buddy!

"Sorry..."

He weaved a little more carefully.

She did seem interested didn't she?  She reacted the same way he did when Jonah--  Does that mean anything though?  Of course it does.  It means she got shy.  Maybe she's thinking the same about you right now...  Well, probably not right now.  She's probably got a handle of herself better than you have.  She's so much more sophisticated.  But she's cool.  And--

He looked up.  This was the place.  Pin's here.  Message says the penthouse.  Is that--

He went in the building and hit the button for the top floor of the elevator.

Fancy place.  Well duh...  A Penthouse Apartment in Midtown.  He guessed he wasn't the only person who found it difficult to say no to the type of people who lived here.

"Can I get you anything to eat or drink, before you start?"  A mustachioed middle aged man asked Peter.  Presumably her father.

"Oh, uhh... no sir, I kind of want to get this done as quick as possible.  See, I'm expected back home.  I called and told them I'd be late, extenuating circumstances and all.  But yeah, I kind of just have to help her get back on track and get home in a hurry."

Walter laughed out loud again at the earnesty.  "Geeeeeeez..."  He uttered without further explanation.  

Peter held a confused expression for the response.

He was led through the house and to Felicia's room.

"Tutor's here, Flick."  Was his introduction, before "Make sure you keep the door open, Flick." a laugh echoed down the hallway which only confused Peter further.

Peter's first impression was that he didn't seem to inspire confidence in her.

"Oh my God..."  She cried out.  "My tutor's a high school senior..."

He winced at the comment, not sure how to broach the issue.

"Uhh... Junior.  Senior, next semester.  I mean, if it makes you feel better, I turn seventeen in, like, two weeks..."

Evidently, it did not make her feel better.

"Look, it's not that bad.  Not to toot my own horn, but I mean, I'm VERY good at this stuff.  And you're not that far behind.  You can't be.  It's freshman Electronics.  We just have to get you to 'see' it, and you'll find it easy."

She seemed to be crying in her own shame, which just made things more awkward for Peter.  He didn't know what to do with his hands.

"I jus--  I jus-- I just need to pass this next unit.  And now I find out that even a High School Junior would have a better grasp on this stuff--"

"Well, I'm not really... 'just' a High School junior.  I mean, I won Science prizes and... a job... IN the industry..."  He defended himself.

"Could you-- could you just... DO this stuff for me?"  She sniffed.  She removed her hands from her face and hit him right between the eyes with the eyes as her mouth curled into a smile that suggested they'd have a secret, held just between them.  "Just this once..."

She reached across and rested her hand on his forearm.

His brain short-circuited.  It would have made an excellent example for a new electronics student, if she's the patience to study it.  Also, if it were a literal thing and not purely a metaphor.

He sucked on his teeth and ran his hand through his hair.

"This isn't how tutors work, Felicity."

She kept hold of the eye contact.  He broke eye contact first.

"I mean... when's this due by?"

It took everything she had to not turn her widening smile into a laugh.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow???"

"I know, Petey...  But it's just so... hard.  It takes so long for me to just get it all so wrong..."

Whoa...

She arched her back unnaturally as she got up, and with that, finally, he began to suspect something was up.  It was hot, yes, but unatural.  He realised he was receiving a performance for one.

And started to feel dumb for not having realised it earlier.  Thoughts of Betty started to drift back.  This time she wasn't even disappointed in him, so much as he was in himself.

He didn't want to waste any more time here.

It made him feel guilty again, but he could barely muster enough to care.

"I'll just get us something to drink, Petey.  While you think about it."

He grunted as she left.  He didn't think she noticed.

Probably wasn't used to hearing any kind of refusal to notice it when delivered as anything but blatant.

He pulled her recent results to find out what he was working with.

She wasn't wrong.  The situation was dire.  Needed an unlikely grade to skate by the unit with a pass.  He sighed.

He'd be here all night trying to get a girl who generally didn't care enough to do the basic study to understand basic principle to get this done to the 90 percentile.

Or...

He grabbed the sheet and just started going through the work.  He made the odd slip at trickier spots, checked the score twice, and added an extra mistake or two.

Ninety three percent.  Should get her by.

Teacher might buy it if he thought she was copying straight from the book...  Maybe...  Ish...

He left her bedroom.  She was leaning into a refrigerator, looking in a way Peter otherwise would be too-tongue tied to describe if he weren't so completely done with this session.

"Here.  I looked over your last stuff.  This should be about a 93%.  Should scrape back into passing.  Any more than that and there's no way I could pass it off as your work.  If they hit you with a pop quiz just tell them you're still very much working from the book."  He said flatly.

He didn't seem happy at all.  And if he'd been drooling over her at any point there was certainly no sign of that now, Felicia could see.

"I don't need a drink.  Just the cash."

She hopped over to the kitchen counter where the money for the tutor was kept.  Bouncing.  Still trying to lean into 'cute'.  She returned to him and put it in his hands and was about to thank him when she realised he wasn't finished.  'Cute' didn't cut it.

"Felicity...  Get it together.  If you want to use me for this next time...  Lose my number."

He took the cash and immediately felt guilty again, before he walked out the door without turning back.

He wasted enough of his ever-dwindling time and had his own work to get done back home.
Hound55 Member

Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!

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