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Shop Class, Wednesday

As the students walked into the classroom, they should notice that there are several stations set up. At each station is a different kind of mechanical lock, and a set of lockpicking tools.

Sam was sitting on one of the desks, swinging her feet and fiddling with her own tools. "Morning. Each of you has a lock and set of lockpicking tools. You also have a printed manual with some how to instructions."

"For those of you not familiar with picking locks, look the material over and practice on your lock. For those of you who already know what you're doing," she smirked, "please review the material and see if you can help someone else. Or, if you get bored, I've got a stopwatch or you can compete against the other people who know what they're doing."

"Make sure you know what you're doing on different kinds of locks, though--I've got something in mind for Monday."

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Please help each other.

Okay, so Xander remembered just enough of somebody else's military lockpicking training to a) recognize that it was never somebody else's specialty, and b) not get lost reading the manual. Catburgler extraordinaire, this did not make him.

He set about working on a very simple key-based padlock, and... at least hadn't yet broken off any of the lockpicks in it?

Sam wandered over, hands in pockets. "Hey. How're you doing, Xander?"

"I... haven't busted it yet? I consider this an accomplishment." He actually sort of had an idea what he was supposed to be doing; he just kept losing concentration and staring off into space every so often, before returning to the task.

She grinned at him. "It is an accomplishment. You wouldn't believe how many locks I ruined trying to open them with things like hairpins. I finally got the picks from my Dad, in defense of his doors."

"You okay?" she asked, noticing his slight distraction.

He blinked, then smiled. "Yeah, sorry if I'm zoney. It just kinda hit me this week--" Yay for partial truths. "--that graduation is... soon liek whoa."

"You're graduating, too?" Sam frowned. "Damn it, I'm going to miss you, too."

Xander twisted his pick in the lock at the right angle this time, and the latch sprang free. "Huh." He looked up. "Yeah, it's...weird. I think when I started here I wasn't expecting to meet so many people I'd be sorry to un-meet, you know?"

"Fun, huh?" Sam grinned as she watched the lock spring open. "And I know what you mean...I think."

A rather sketchy adolescence had given Ivanova the ability to rewire locks, but picking locks was a bit beyond her. At the moment. Diligent study and a little cursing in Russian got her a long way.

"Do you need help, Ivanova?"

One more choice word under her breath and poking herself in the thumb with one of the lockpicks, and she gave in. "Yes, actually. I'm not used to mechanical locks."

Sam nodded and pulled out her set of lockpicks and began explaining what to do. "And see, it takes finesse and practice...you'll get it eventually. Sometimes it just clicks."

Ivanova noddded. She was sure this would be much easier if she wasn't still feeling the effects of last night's intimate evening with an economy-sized bottle of Midnight Hobo. Her brow furrowing, she tried it again and almost got it.

"Better," Sam said, approvingly. "Just keep going. You can take the lock with you to practice, if you want."

"Thanks," she muttered, focused on the lock. She paused for a moment. "Is this sort of thing typical for a shop class? I don't remember Petty Crime 101 being offered last time I was in high school."

"I don't know what's typical. I've never taught a shop class before," she admitted, shrugging. "But it's a useful skill. Like anything else, it's what you do with it that counts, and that choice is up to you."

"My mother knew how to pick locks, I just remembered," Ivanova murmured. "She always forgot her keys. Especially after we moved. Guess you're right."

"My mom, too," Sam smiled slightly.

Stark has, for the most part, only broken into electronic locks and he hadn't been entirely successful at that. So this is something fairly new.

The first lock he tries opens fairly easily and he grins. The next time he's not so lucky and spends a few moments cursing at the lock in at least 3 languages before shoving it aside and moving on to another. He'd come back to it. Maybe. After he was done muttering angrily at the set of lockpicks.

Sam was extremely impressed by the breadth of Stark's swearing, but put him on the novice list.

"Do you need a hand, or is this something you want to do on your own?"

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Shop Class, Wednesday

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