fandomhigh | Creative Problem Solving, Tuesday, period 3

[class #9: The Go(odie) Bag Job]

The class met in what looked like a perfectly normal classroom this week -- though it was still the Danger Shop. The room was lined on all sides with tables covered in a very large variety of items, everything from basic first aid supplies to piles of generic clothing to what would look to be on first examination a stack of blank passports from various countries around Earth (and would turn out on closer inspection to be -- a stack of blank passports from various countries around Earth. Yeah). The table closest to the door had a large variety of bags on it, from large purses to backpacks to duffel bags to rolling bags. The teachers sat at the back of the room at a final, empty table. The middle of the room was empty, with plenty of room for the students to stand.

They won't have seen Eliot look quite so relaxed, before. It was possible that Parker hadn't seen Eliot look quite so relaxed, before. He was leaning back in his chair, tilted precariously on its back legs, his feet up on the table, idly spinning a small black claw on a cord around his neck. When the students started filing in, he looked up and waved with a smile, then went back to fiddling with the necklace.

Parker was shooting Eliot random looks of confusion, because when did he go all zen? Was he planning on killing someone without telling her? Had he discovered a new spice? Did someone drug him? Anyway. “Hi guys. This week, we’re talking go-bags.” She pointed around the room. “What do you take with you when you have to go on a sudden trip? A trip you might not come back from? Or when the apocalypse happens?” She figured some of the kids at least might have to deal with that concept back home. “You should always be prepared. Like those scouts.”

"She means Boy Scouts," Eliot said, without sitting up. "We've got bags for you to choose from, and a wide-range of supplies. My advice: pack light. A bar of soap, a change of clothes, and a good knife will get you plenty far and won't weigh you down when you have to run."

“But maybe you need something special. If you’re not sure what something is, ask me. You don’t want to be like our friend Maggie.” Parker made a sad face. “She would have mixed up the plastic explosives with the toothpaste.”

"None of the explosives'll work outside this room," Eliot told them. Because of course they had tubes of plastic explosives in here. "They're samples only. Same with the weaponry. If you can get your hands on something you can use outsida here, though, they can be useful."

“Now. Make like you’re equipping for time in Antarctica! Or maybe just Texas.” Parker beamed, shooing at them with her fingers. Then she leaned over to poke Eliot in the neck to see if he would react.

Eliot grabbed her by the wrist, face going blank as he squeezed -- then let go and shot her a raised eyebrow. "When you're done," he told the class, a slight edge to his voice. "We've got cookies."

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Eliot frowned. "For the last time, Parker, it's called being in a good mood. Or it was, anyway. And what does eating cinnamon have to do with anything?"

"It's supposed to have amazing properties. Isn't it?" Parker's grasp of drugs vs. spices was still a little shaky. "Or, if it goes wrong, it makes you sick. You've been in a good mood for days. It's weird."

"Yeah, and you and Hardison are doing your damndest to screw it up," Eliot said, fiddling with the wolf claw between his fingers. "I'm not on drugs, Parker."

Now she was leaning in and sniffing the top of his head for cinnamon. Or possibly a new hair conditioner.

"Something's different," she muttered. "And Hardison told me about your trip. You went and beat up Sterling."

And didn't take them along!

"Wh -- why don't you say that a little louder, huh? I don't think all the students heard ya." Eliot shook his head. Sniffing was fine. Sniffing didn't make him think she was about to steal his necklace if he wasn't careful.

. . . Except she could. She was that good.

Crap.

"This isn't the beating-things-up-class, this is the go-bag class." In case you weren't paying attention again, Eliot. Parker slumped back into her chair and glared at him again. "I am having mad feelings at you for that."

Eliot rubbed the claw again, reassuring himself it was still there. "Since when do we like Sterling?"

"Never! Ever!" Parker lowered her voice to a growl, imitating Eliot. "But I want to kick him too! You just left. Without telling us. Or taking video or pictures. And you weren't going to tell us! Hardison found out from Nate."

That was like having your dad tell you your best friend won the lottery and your friend wasn't even going to tell you!

"Also, you hurt my wrist."

Eliot sighed, tension rolling right back out of his shoulders. "I'm sorry about your wrist," he said. "And I promise I'll let you get some hits in on Sterling next time, too, okay?"

Partially mollified, Parker sniffed. Still watching him. "You better." Still not okay, though! "Mad feelings are still around me. Circling. Like bats." Watching you!

"Like bats," Eliot agreed. He reached back -- nearly tipping the chair all the way over -- and grabbed one of the plates. "You want a cookie?"

"Tchah! What kind of question is that?" Parker snatched the cookie. And ate it with intent. And diminishing hostility. Maybe there was a smile.

She was still watching you.

Eliot smiled back and grabbed a cookie of his own. She could watch all she liked. Just so long as she didn't go for his necklace.

Creative Problem Solving, Tuesday, period 3

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