fandomhigh | Creative Problem Solving, Tuesday, period 3

[Class #10: The Insecure Job]

“This week we’re doing something a little different: working on making your own stuff safe.” Parker was maintaining a strategic distance from Eliot, because if she didn’t, she’d start checking him over for evidence of alien overlords, and that could get violent. “You can go high-tech, with lasers, and safes, and hidden compartments…”

Eliot was pretending not to notice Parker keeping away from him. He wasn't doing a very good job. He stood stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched, occasionally shooting glances at her. "Or you can keep it simple," he said. "Low tech, easy to maintain, hard to hack. A couple basic snares and traps, let anyone going after your stuff know you mean business."

Parker didn’t look at him but her tone was pointed. “Of course, you want to be able to discourage people. But not get them hurt. That could get you sued, or worse, put in jail. And some people will be skilled or strong enough to get out of that kind of thing.”

"And some people are skilled and strong enough to get past the damn lasers and safes," Eliot said, tone about as pointy as it got. "Ain't a damn single thief these days who goes into an apartment expecting a bear trap."

Which made no counter point at all to the whole "getting someone hurt" thing. Eliot was currently perfectly okay with that part.

The expression Parker made at that was her usual ‘you people are insane’ only dialed up to eleven. “Okay! So. Take a look at the security displays here…” A wave to the left at the high-tech, a wave to the right, at the kludge-and-blood-worthy. “...and figure out what works for you.” A pause. “No maiming inside the classroom.” Just deal with that, Eliot.

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Ain't even like you could maim someone in here." For once he actually looked put out by that fact. "So just calm the hell down already, Parker."

The death-glare Parker shot him for that would have done well at taking down a small moon, or a Rebel base.

“Get started, people.”

[ocd is up!]

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She also liked diamonds and jewelry. He's seen her Christmas tree! He fiddled with the claw, reassuring himself again that it was there, and caught her glance. He returned it with a glare.

Why did she keep staring at him?

Why did he keep glaring at her?

Well, sure, but those were trophies! And it was CHRISTMAS. You couldn't deny Baby Jesus the best for his birthday!

Also, that was a new tick there, that playing with the claw. Maybe she should ask Sophie what it meant... but she'd probably tell Parker to figure it out herself.

"Dammit, Parker," Eliot grumbled, moving towards her so he wasn't shouting across the room full of students. "The hell is your problem?"

"Problem? I don't have a problem. Do you have a problem?" Parker asked, watching him for the next tell or bit of new behavior. "What kind of problem do you have?"

Okay, now she was just assuming he had problems.

"My problem is that you keep lookin' at me like I've gone off the rails."

The fact that he had actually gone quite thoroughly off the rails did not even occur to him.

"I am?" Parker reached over and picked up one of the observation mirrors and checked out her expression. "Hunh. So that's what that looks like. That wasn't what I was thinking, though."

Eliot would normally find Parker's Parkerness quirky and amusing, though he'd pretend to get all growly about it. Right now he was literally just all growly about it. He grabbed for the mirror to toss it aside. "Then what, Parker?"

"That." Parker's Parkerness in this case was the spiky, sharp feral kind, ready to jump out a window or reach for a hammer. "You're not off the rails, you're mean. Why are you mean?!"

"What?" Eliot was honestly confused by that. "I'm always mean."

He'd ripped the head off her pinata once. Come on, now.

"No, you're always cranky, grouchy, grumpy, and irritated." Parker grimaced, keeping her arms folded. "Now you're... mean."

Personal was the word she was looking for and not finding. Or maybe impatient in a way he hadn't been before a week or two ago. It was like someone has sucked out part of what made Eliot Eliot and... replaced it with non-dairy-creamer Eliot. Low-fat Eliot. Fake Eliot.

...Oooooo.

It was probably best she didn't call him "non-dairy-creamer" or "low-fat" Eliot out loud. There were things you just didn't say to a trained chef.

"I ain't doin' this right now," Eliot decided. "Come find me when you've dialed the crazy back down."

Right. Because stomping out in the middle of class was definitely about Parker being crazy.

Parker bared her teeth at his back in what was not a smile, any more than he was Original Flavor Eliot.

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