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[Her mouth twitches, and Rosalind presses her fingers to her lips, hiding a smile.]

You can curse, Prompto.

Is that the one where they've . . . isn't it something about they have a week's time to pass on the photograph or some little girl comes to kill them?

[Listen, she's not so good at the pop culture.]

[unabashedly, prompto does laugh]

No way! That's The Ring you're thinking about, and it's a video tape! It's a Japanese one, but Shutter is Thai. Are you easily scared? I can get you a DVD copy if you aren't! It's worth experiencing!

The ending has this amazing [spreading his arms] twist, my mind was blown!

[This is most definitely something she's going to regret, but whatever, yolo.]

I should think I have to watch, now. Although if I refuse to be photographed by you afterwards, you can't complain.

That's fine. Only the photographer would be haunted.

[matter-of-fact nod, eating two raviolis in one go. hm! he picks up at the ice tea and fills up the two plastic cups, drinking from his own almost immediately]

I'm sure there'll be a lot of chances for me to do so if I end up in your class anyway.

Oh, no.

[How can one person look so arch and authoritative while eating ravioli? Generations of breeding, that's how.]

No, no. If you take my class, you'll be paying attention. I don't tolerate goofing off.

[she does look authoritative, but it does very little for prompto]

Who says it's goofing off? I could totally be working on a class assignment. You'd never know!

[he's not going to be a star student]

You're not supposed to be doing that either. When you enter my classroom, Prompto, you ought to only have one thing on your mind.

"Everything is made of waves, and also particles"?

[he asks, closing his eyes dramatically. but... he can't help the amusement in his features as he smiles, and stabs at the last of his ravioli]

I can't promise I'll be a good student. I don't really know what to expect, although I suppose the worksheets you'll give me might help me out. But... I do promise to do my very best.

I'm committed [chomp chomp raviolis] --not to let y'down.

I very much doubt you'll let me down, Prompto.

[She says it so quickly, the sentiment semi-hidden in false language, that he might be forgiven for not hearing her at all. Certainly Rosalind seems keen on distracting him; she passes a stack of papers over the desk.]

Here. They're what I offer my classes the first week, to see what people know and where I have to start. It's as good a test as any.

Edited (let's clarify that a bit) 2017-07-23 03:51 (UTC)

[prompto glances up and takes the papers, putting them beside him. he cleans up his hand on his dark jeans and pushes the now empty container away so he can looking down at the papers, flipping through the first couple of pages.]

[raising his head again, he goes about and picks out a pencil from the holder on her desk.]

Honestly.

Physics' is like a puzzle. I like solving puzzles.

[he starts scratching at the paper, answering problem #1 on the side of the paper]

As a kid, I would spend hours at home practicing maths problems. During the summer I'd rent out the maths book from the school library, go through the entire thing. Reciting the multiplication tables while bouncing a ball on the wall.

Most fun I had.

[he stops to look down at his answer, and satisfied, moves to the second one]

[She's pleased he looks down at the paper, because it means she can successfully hide her smile without him knowing it. Rosalind busies herself with her drink, and then, when she thinks she can keep her expression under reasonable control:]

My mother was never very fond of my spending too much time in the library. When she inevitably kicked me out, I'd grab my physics books and climb a tree, and do the precise same thing anyway. Though I suppose I at least got some fresh air while I was at it.

[he doesn't raise his head to look at her, but his eyes stray from the paper and meet hers momentarily. there's something sad about the way he looks at her, but he's back to the second problem, erasing a number, and then counting a bit with his fingers before writing down another.]

Mothers, huh.

So long as I was out of mine's way, everything was fine.

[prompto doesn't sound like anything when he says that, but he doesn't let it sink and simmer for too long before he adds]

How did you know you liked it?

[She hesitates for just a few seconds, then:]

I'll tell you, but you have to swear to secrecy first.

[Her tone is teasing and wry, but nonetheless there's a note of something serious beneath it. She's not going to be upset if he tells, say, Noct, but at the same time, this really is something a bit personal.]

Who would I tell? No one listens to nerds.

[he's playful, too, sitting up straight and leaving the second problem alone--solved, already--and paying attention to rosalind. he twirls the pencil between his fingers, an uncoordinated effort, however.]

But... I swear I won't tell anyone else.

[She very nearly orders him to keep working on his problems. The focused attention is a little unnerving, but it's not as if he means it badly.]

. . . I had a dream when I was . . . I think around eight or so. About myself, standing in a room full of girls who were and were not myself. Each of them had some subtle difference about her, some feature or personality quirk that made her me, and yet not. I was so taken by the idea that I immediately started looking into things like parallel universes, which led me to physics. I opened a textbook, and . . .

[She pauses, and then simply:]

It made sense, as nothing else ever had.

Edited 2017-07-23 04:23 (UTC)

[he thinks that's a little creepy, but equally fascinating.]

You had the idea before you even opened a book on parallel universes? That alone is pretty cool.

[but he gets it, the thing about it making sense.]

...can I also share a bit of a secret? I obsessed over maths problems 'cause it's the only thing that made logical sense back then, too. It feels good when things click into place without much effort.

Number don't lie. And if there's something off, you can go back and figure out where precisely the mistake occurred and fix it.

[Oh, yes, does she ever know that feeling.]

Although I have to say, it's a bit hard to imagine you and I in that same position. I retreated to numbers in part because I couldn't understand anyone around me. You seem to get on with almost everyone.

[prompto shrugs, works on the third problem. he's bouncing his leg, making his writing wobbly]

Now. Not to brag, but I wasn't very social until quite recently.

Really.

[She isn't doubting him. It's a word that's inviting elaboration, and now it's her turn to watch him.]

[he stops, altogether, putting the pencil down, but he doesn't raise his eyes, pretending instead to fidgets with the bands on his wrist. it's hard to talk about this, still, even if he's quite open about it to anyone he forms even the smallest bond with.]

I'm flattered that you want me to be in your class.

[?]

Be it because of my clearly charming personality, or-- just, you know... you see potential in me. I always felt a nuisance growing up. If I keep out of everyone's way, I thought, I'd never be the reason for bad things happening to them.

I think back on it and I know it's fucked up to be six and think that, but I just thought that's how things were.

I've never been outstanding.

Just another guy with a sad story and shitty parents. It took me a while to become--well, this.

[he motions at himself]

[How odd. How utterly similar and yet wildly different from her.

Rosalind has never, ever doubted she was extraordinary. Not once. She's never fit in, she's never gotten on with her parents, she'd never really known what it was to have friends until she hit college, but throughout all that, she knew for a fact that it was the world who was wrong, not her. If they doubted her genius, if they looked at her and saw a square peg desperately struggling to escape the round hole fate had tried to dictate for her, well, that was their problem.

So she'd been lonely. She'd been so terribly alone, but she'd had her math and her science, and she'd forced that to be enough. It had to be, because the alternative was trying to fit in and being desperately miserable, and she'd never been so lonely as to want that. She'd never . . . if I kept out of everyone's way, he says, and she, who has always aggressively forced herself to be noticed, can't imagine doing such a thing.

It isn't that he's wrong. It's just a drastic contrast between two children who were similar, and she wonders at it.]

Well. I should say it was worth the wait.

[She murmurs it.]

[she murmurs it, but prompto hears her loud and clear. an empty university faculty office is pretty quiet, specially this late at night. he smiles at her words once they sink in and he gets to understand what she's referring to.]

[his words are soft, then, too.]

Yeah.

Can't say I'm unhappy.

[he picks up one foot and puts it on the chair, reclining back. he's not that much of a bulky guy, so he fits in quite comfortably on the extra space the chair provides]

It was kinda hard when Noct went down for a while, but... despite that, I made a lot of good friends. I learnt to be stronger in a different way. I feel like I wasted my childhood feeling sorry for myself, I want to take any chances I can get now. Hashtag no regrets kinda thing.

[snort]

Even if it means opening up about my feelings and being consequently embarrassing 'cause of it? I don't want people to think I'm some weak, vulnerable thing anymore.

[he rolls his eyes at himself, then waves a hand]

--this went on a tangent, huh?

What I mean is that I'm actually really excited to take Quantum Physics, because you think I got what it takes. So, thank you, Doctor.

[There's a lot she might say to that. Sentiments stir in the center of her chest, and for one long moment, she thinks about telling him-- oh, all sorts of things. Be careful of being too emotional, that is vulnerability, god, that's a big one, and you have to be careful never to let anyone dictate how they see you is how you see yourself, people will always get it wrong, that's another. All the little lessons she's memorized and kept so close to her heart, the things that have allowed her to survive and force herself forward all these years.

But in the end, she keeps them to herself. He's not a child anymore and neither is she, and if he wants advice, he can ask for it. There's no point in her saying such emotional things when it's not needed.

So Rosalind nods in acknowledgement and then exhales briskly, trying to move them both on.]

Well. Looking at your schedule, you ought to be able to take the Wednesday evening class. It's once a week, three hours long. It's closed now, but tell me when you're trying to register and I'll open up a spot for you. I have to fill out some form or another, but.

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