fandomhigh | Driver's Ed [Thursday, Week 2, Period 5]

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driver's ed

Driver's Ed [Thursday, Week 2, Period 5]

The Danger Shop was set up like a regular classroom to start, and Ziva was back up at the front.

"Good afternoon," she said, "and welcome back. I am glad to see all of you again. Last week, many of you indicated that you are very unfamiliar with cars, so before we proceed any further, I thought it would be best to discuss the basics of how these vehicles work. I can almost guarantee that this will be the only note-taking you will have to do here." She brought up a basic car diagram, and went through all the parts at a steady pace, along with the ever important mention of which pedal was which inside the car.

Once that was done, the room changed to an outdoor setting, putting everyone in a field by a oval racetrack and a handful of very plain-looking cars.

"Now, I could spend all day telling you how a car works, but nothing will teach you better than actually driving. I would like you all to break into pairs and take some turns around the track. If you are inexperienced, try to pair up with someone who has driven before, but do not worry about that too much. Because we are in here, you will not get hurt if you do not do well, but if I see anyone driving recklessly on purpose, I will pull you out. Is that clear?" It might have been, amazingly enough for her. "Then get to it."

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"...You drove a bulldozer?" She was somewhere between aghast and impressed as she ducked her head to slide into the passenger seat.

"In Professor Bond's class," Arthur replied, and promptly nearly stubbed his head on the roof of the car before slipping into his seat.

Of course, a lot of virtual citizens had gotten killed that way, but that was what the Danger Shop was for.

He shut the door behind him. Keys? Yes. Gear... thing.

There were a lot of buttons and sticks. "I'll get it right," he repeated again. It was kind of a mantra by now.

Francine paused with her seatbelt halfway to its clasp, looking over at him. "You don't have to get it right the first time, you know. That's what classes are for."

"I know," he said, sharply, pulling a face as he tried to sort out the... lever... thing.

He hadn't thought to turn it on yet, no.

*click* Seatbelt on, Francine tucked her hair behind her ear and winced at the gearshift. "It won't move unless you turn the key."

"I know," Arthur repeated. His upper lip curled up as he suddenly changed tactics to go towards the key. "I'm getting it."

Turn.

The car sort of... sputtered. "I'm getting it."

He was. Sort of. "You did! Good job." She meant well; he just wasn't five. ...Some of the time.

"Francine, I said--"

Twitchy right now, apparently.

He smacked the lever in barely contained frustration, as sputtering seemed to be all it was doing. It didn't sound healthy. "Sometimes..."

"Sorry!" Instinct. "I'll be quiet." She never did know when to shut up.

"It's never quite enough," Arthur muttered, pushing on the shift until it was set to the top one. Whichever it was.

He wasn't aware of the fact a kind of cadence and rhythm had snuck into his sentence.

Francine almost was, but like most things, it took her a while. "What isn't?" Which was so not being quiet.

"If I was flawless--"

The car was still just sputtering, and not moving, so he poked at the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to get it to do something.

It made a very sad, pathetic little beeping noise, because he hadn't smacked the horn hard enough. "..." Right. He fixed his eyes on the other cars outside, as if to try and divine what they were doing. "Don't forget to win first place."

They weren't likely to win tenth place if the car didn't actually move, but somehow Francine got the feeling -- Oh hey, he was singing.

Which answered at least one of her questions from this morning.

"Don't forget to keep that smile on your face."

Flipping down the makeup mirror revealed that, in fact, she had.

It didn't appear that the car was going to go anywhere anytime soon. Its occupant was a little too busy realising he was back with the blasted singing.

"Be a good boy," he returned, parking big, sword-calloused hands on the heavy steering wheel like that would help. "You've got to try a little harder-- you've got to measure up, make me prouder."

Arthur's singing voice did leave a few things to be desired, but he wasn't killing kittens yet. In fact, he was closer to slaying the back of his seat as he leaned back, heavy with frustration.

Francine didn't attract frogs either, but staying in tune was usually a bit of a challenge.

She meant to reach over to put a hand on his shoulder, but sort of froze halfway there, wondering if it was the right thing to do. "How long before you screw it up?" Except now she just looked stupid, hand hanging in mid-air, trying to decide. "How many times do I have to tell you to hurry up..."

He glanced sideways at her hand - she and Merlin really were twins seperated at birth, what with all the consoling touching-- "With everything I do for you," he replied, making no motion to recognise the gesture, beyond flicking his eyes up to look at her face (yes, her face, not that face) "The least you can do is keep quiet."

It might not have been directed at her; it might. "Be a good girl." Francine usually erred on the side of yes, you screwed up again and now was no exception. "You've gotta try a little harder." Hand dropping to her lap as she looked down.

"That simply wasn't good enough to make us proud."

There was something ridiculously funny and wrong to hear those words coming out of anyone else's mouth, but then Arthur suspected that this inanity meant it wasn't directed at him, either.

He was resigned, then, to getting through this as fast as humanely possible. "I'll live for you, I'll make you what I never was--" he sang, eyes darkening, and rattling off faster and faster like it was jammed in, like one of the hymns you learned for church. "If you're the best, then maybe so am I-- Compared to him--"

"--Compared to her." She might as well be singing into the mirror again, except at least that time she was alone, or at least with no companion but the echo of a phone call in her ears. "I'm doing this for your own damn good. You'll make up for what I blew."

"What's the problem, son?"

His head might have been heard to thunk softly and rhythmically against the pillow of the seat.

"Why are you crying?"

Which, coming out of his mouth like that, sounded an awful lot like the most despicable thing in the whole bloody world.

Or just the most shocking, since it wasn't something Francine could imagine from Arthur. Or imagine him doing, unlike someone in a seat not far from him who teared up when you breathed wrong at her.

Or told her to keep quiet; there was a reason for the lack of eye contact before that made her look at him. "Arthur?"

Failing to look at her was an understatement, really. He'd like to get this over with, and then he'd like her to never speak of it, thank you, not now or in the future or at any point in the past she might travel to.

"Be a good boy, push a little farther now..."

His voice had settled into something more far away. They could make him sing, but they couldn't make him not distance himself from what he was singing.

"That wasn't fast enough to make me happy."

Hands in her lap, Francine didn't look away, but she slanted her eyes down so she wasn't staring at him either. And somehow found a tired, way too knowing snort to go with, "They love us just the way we are."

"If we're perfect."

Arthur didn't sound bitter or derisive or knowing, really. Just faint, and kind of far away, and he was staring out the side window at some of the other cars with his face a flat plane of nothing in particular.

So much for conversation.

"You probably want to put it in Drive," Francine suggested quietly.

Re: (Shut Up and) Drive! [07/16]

bitchprince - 2009-07-16 11:36 (UTC) - Expand

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