Tricks, Cons and Bamboozles | Tuesday | Period 4
So. Teaching.
When the Tricks, Cons and Bamboozles students arrived for class today, they would find their teacher ungodly attractive standing at the front of the room, clad in an expensive suit with his ankle tracker left deliberately visible on the outside of his pants. Some might argue that that would hurt his credibility as a teacher. Neal saw it differently.
“Welcome to Tricks, Cons and Bamboozles,” he said once everyone was seated. “I’m going to be upfront with you and tell you that teaching isn’t something I ever planned to be doing. But you’re here and I’m here, and it’s my job to teach you all a little something about being wily and persuasive – and most of all, successful.”
“But first,” he continued, “I’m going to challenge you all. A lot of teachers might have you introduce yourselves on the first day. I want you to bullshit me.” He doubted this was the kind of school where he could come under fire for using bad language, but if it was, it wasn’t like he’d ever gotten a high school diploma or sufficient experience in a high school environment to teach him that. “Introduce yourselves and try to convince me you’re someone else. Your classmates and I will be free to ask you questions to try and trip you up. Starting now.”
He pointed at someone, then gestured to the front of the room and took a seat on top of an empty desk in the first row. “Go.”

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Kenzi shone with so much innocence she practically sparkled.
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Still, that didn't mean he was going to go easy on her.
"So where're you from?"
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"Which is...?"
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"So are you going to fun the company when you graduate college?" 'Ryan' asked.
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"Seamus O'Sullivan, at your service," he said, giving Professor Caffrey a brief nod. Hey, at least he had the authentic accent, right? "This is me first time in a public school, sir. Back in Ireland, me mum had me enrolled in an Irish Catholic school and I must say, I never knew public school was like this."
Nathan could do wide eyed and amazed very well, thank you. He considered himself an excellent bullshitter.
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"You seem to have picked up the public school attire pretty well for a first-timer," he observed casually. "Perfect slacker uniform."
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"Hi, I'm Aimee Bradley," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and smiling smugly at the group like she knew something they didn't. "Seventeen and a senior, recently of Fredericksburg. So far, I'm finding Fandom to be an excellent second home."
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Maybe the place of origin was the lie?
"Fredericksburg, Virginia? Great town," he replied. Then, eyes twinkling, he asked, "Favorite historical landmark?"
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He figured nonchalant would work best here since he had established himself on the quiet side on Saturday, which was already a lie in itself. New York seemed like the easiest place to go with since he already had Jersey going for him and that accent could work just as well in some of the boroughs.
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"New York, huh?" A faint trace of a smirk teased at the corners of his mouth. "What part?"
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She was a decent liar, but -- maybe because half the class knew who she was anyhow -- somehow this didn't sound entirely sincere.
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"So you're probably in that cupcake crimes class, right?" he asked innocently.
Which, okay, as a professional criminal, he totally didn't know any crimes you could do with cupcakes. Except poison, but that got old fast.
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"Tersa," she said shortly, keeping her eyes fixed on her desk. "Don't know how old I am, started at the beginning of the summer."
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"You don't know how old you are?" he repeated. What, was she playing crazy? "Is this a born-again thing?"
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She figured giving short, nondescript answers would help her get away with this at least for a few moments.
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"Yeah?" Neal asked, leaning forward a little "Tell me about yourself, Kim."
Sorry, Lindsay.
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"My name," Rinoa said, trying to sound official, above-it-all, and somewhat bored, "is Quistis Trepe. I was the headmaster for Balamb Garden, but I got sent here instead."
Did she sound like she had groupies and carried a whip? She wasn't sure.
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"Really?" Neal asked. "And what were your responsibilities as headmaster?"
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"Why don't you get to inherit it?" he asked, boredly, examining his nails. "Seems a little unfair."
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"I'm Duncan," Richie said. "Duncan MacLeod. Most people call me Mac." Start small, right?
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