fandomhigh | "Art," Friday, Period 4

Dean looked... more or less resigned to the stupid uniform that he had to wear today. But only because he wasn't the only one in the room wearing one such uniform, and because he was drinking coffee without fear of sprouting wings (Monday had been an exercise in not freaking out for Dean, yes), and because, lucky him, he had a class that seemed more or less normal right from the get-go. Well, unless you counted the fact that he'd had to walk to work with a crowbar this afternoon so that he didn't get eaten by bunnies, but that was completely different.

"So, this is our final week together," Dean shared, leaning back against his desk and shooting a lopsided little smile at his class. "Which means two things. First, your sculpture assignments should be finished, and second... final exam."

Because that was just how Dean McCoppin rolled. And also because the School Board was making him. But mostly the first one, if anyone asked.

"You'll find everything you need on your desks. You have the rest of the period to finish your tests, and then when you're finished... I don't know. Glue macaroni to the outside of some tin cans or something. This is the last hour of school before the summer, period. Get messy."

If they happened to ruin their uniforms in the process, then all the better, right?

[Open!]

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"It's such a precious little place! If a bit... different."

That was one way of putting it.

"The island takes a little bit of getting used to," Dean allowed, reaching for his coffee.

He had the feeling that he should have put a little something extra into it today.

"Small town and all, I mean."

... Yes.

"Oh, I'm quite used to small communities." Lovey waved an immaculately-gloved hand. "Why, Thurston and I spent most of of the nineteen-sixties on a tiny, exclusive tropical retreat with only five neighbors for miles around."

That... was also one way of putting it.

Oh, was it ever. And beyond that, it took Dean a moment to equate the sixties with something that was supposed to happen decades ago, instead of a few years in his near-ish future.

He tried not to look momentarily baffled, and only mostly succeeded this time around.

"Well, then Fandom must be practically homey," he tried, a little lamely. "I mean, rabbits aside."

... Was he not supposed to mention the rabbits. Dean had no idea if he was supposed to mention the rabbits.

"There do seem to be rather a lot of those about." Lovey frowned briefly. "I believe several of them tried to get into a fight with my mink stole this morning."

"Well... you know rabbits. Always on the lookout for... mink. Mortal enemies, rabbit and mink. Totally normal."

There. That ought to do it, right?

"Uh... But you're okay, I hope? I mean, your stole made it through the ordeal?"

"Well, of course, my dear. No mink of mine would be so uncultured as to engage in fisticuffs with garden-variety rabbits."

Dean gave her a bit of a wry grin at that.

"Of course," he replied, raising his coffee in a sort of not-quite-a-toast. "It only stands to reason that a cultured lady has a cultured mink."

"Art," Friday, Period 4

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