fandomhigh | Shop, Tuesday, period 3

Class met back in the danger shop again, which was set up in the junkyard, shop tables and power tools arranged in the central clearing.

"Right," Eliot said when the students had all gathered. "So I was tempted to have you guys actually beat some swords into plowshares, but that's a little bit heavy handed and honestly, I'm a fan of a well-wielded sword." A somewhat far-off expression passed over his face, eyebrow creeping up, then he visibly shrugged the thought off. "Anyway, there's those who've been sayin' that one bright side of dark an' turbulent times is the art made by those bein' oppressed. Art's often been used as an outlet and a way to express feelings and ideas that otherwise might be difficult to get across -- or hard to get past government censors. Now, there's plenty who'll call bull on the romanticization of the 'starving artist' or the idea that political and social strife are necessary for artistic creation, and frankly, I ain't qualified to weigh in on it either way. And what we do here, in this class? This ain't my art. But I will say that havin' an art, an outlet for expression, is what pulled me out of a very dark time personally. What you make doesn't have to have anything to do with what you're goin' through outside your kitchen, or your studio, or your workshop. Just the act of bein' in that space and focusing in on a project can do wonders for your equilibrium and your spirit. Some days, it'll be all you've got." His mouth quirked up on one side in a faint smile. "Anyway. Today's an open shop day. Work on whatever gets you excited, or settles you down, anything you can just focus in on and keep your mind from wanderin'. Only thing I'm asking of ya this week is to make something that makes you happy."

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Isabela could laugh for both of them. "Why do you think I asked you instead of seeing if he'd get out the real thing to compare?"

Not because it would've been inappropriate or anything.

"You should take a picture of your masterpiece, an' then do a detailed inspection later t' see what you missed."

Ada, Isabela doesn't need your encouragement. Seriously.

Need, no. Appreciate, yes.

"That's a brilliant idea," Isabela said. "Though that kind of inspect always goes better with another pair of eyes."

Isabela, no.

"I was gonna ask if you had plans after class," Ada admitted, because Isabela was always a lovely distraction. "--you can ask Dante, but, um..."

She glanced around, and then let go of Isabela's waist so she could rotate an arm so that her palm was facing them, slipping the cuff of her hoodie up enough and then nudging the bandage out of the way so that Isabela could see the glistening new scales on her forearm without the rest of the class noticing. "--there was an incident yesterday. An' he saw it. Not exactly th' most arousing experience."

Being a distraction was something Isabela was very, very good at. "My afternoon's free," she said, tracing her thumb over the skin next to the scales, since asking if it was alright to touch them yet was only going to draw attention. "Unless Dante needs a dagger stuck somewhere tender first?"

"What? NO!" Ada said, shaking her head. "I'd probably still be hidin' in m' room, alone, if'n he hadn't been there."

"Just...I know it's disconcertin' for people t' see it happen, 'specially th' first time. Hell, I think it's gross, an' I've grown up with it. I just don't wanna push at it if'n he's still tryin' to process it."

Just because Ada was shit at talking about her own feelings most of the time didn't mean she wasn't good at taking care of Other People's Feels.

And Iaabela's definition of taking care of people sometimes meant making sure their heads weren't up their arses and forcibly removing them if they were.

"Just checking," Isabela murmured, brushing her lips against Ada's palm. "Though it's his loss if he doesn't feel like having two gorgeous women paying great attention to his cock."

That's why they made such a good team. Isabela handled the blunt end of things, and Ada had the high diplomacy stats. When she felt like it.

Ada shrugged. "Like I said, you can ask him," she said, sliding her other hand back around Isabela's waist. "--he just might say 'not today,' an' m' feelings ain't gonna be hurt."

"He can wait," Isabela decided. "After all, he got my full attention last week so it'd be unfair if you didn't."

Isabela, this was shop class, not hook-up class.

It was a class that had Isabela, Dante, Ada, and Hya in it. It kiiiiiiinda was a hook-up class. Sorry, Mr. Spencer.

"'Bela," Ada said reprovingly. "You don't gotta put your need t' check your accuracy on hold for me."

Yes, Ada wanted a distraction. Ada did not want to be clingy and drive people nuts.

Was Isabela making terrible excuses and vanishing? No, she wasn't.

"And what about my need to corrupt sweet, innocent carnies?"

And any good books Ada had that were worth stealing were...probably stolen from Isabela anyway.

"Well, if it's sweet carnies you're craving, I might have a few cousins you'd like..."

"I seem to recall you tasting sweet enough."

ISABELA. NO.

Ada didn't have much in the way of shame, or hang-ups about sex. One of the benefits of growing up in a very large and diverse family.

She did, however, have a vague sense of what was and wasn't appropriate flirting during class. "'Bela!" she hissed, blushing pink as she glanced around to make sure no one had heard that. "Don't be terrible!"

Isabela and shame were very rare acquaintances indeed, and pretty much never when it came to sex.

"I thought you liked it when I was terrible," she said, turning her head to try and steal a kiss.

You were the worst, Isabela.

"Save some of the terrible for later, please?" Ada asked, letting her steal that kiss. "Class is almost done, keep it in your chemise."

'Keep it in your pants' didn't really apply much to Isabela's preferred fashion choices.

She wore trousers occasionally, just usually when it was most inappropriate to do so.

"Yes, dear," Isabela said, sounding not at all contrite.

The 'dear' got a little snicker out of her, and the edges of her mouth quirked up into a smile. "I don't feel like you're sorry," Ada pointed out dryly. "At all."

"I'll show you just how sorry I am after class."

Isabela, this would be why Ada doubted your sincerity.

Shop, Tuesday, period 3

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