[ tim follows in silence alongside professor fuller, keeping his eyes ahead and counting every step he takes to try and keep his breathing and heart rate under control. his palms have already started sweating around the strap of his bag, but he can at least blame that on the heat of the classrooms - the radiators still going at full tilt even though this january is proving to be slightly warmer.
he gives a sheepish nod to some of his other professors in the political science wing as he follows hawk to that corner office he knows well. he's stopped in here many times between classes - most of the time to ask questions about a point in class, or to have him look at a paper before turning it in. other times, simply because he's enjoyed talking to him - needing company in the bustle of the busy day and using a current political event as fodder for that.
but he looks at the door in dread today, stepping inside once he's ushered in and settles in the chair across from the man's desk. he gathers his bag into his lap so as not to remove it from round his torso, but also to have something to hold onto. ]
A condition?
[ he tilts his head, brow furrowing faintly in genuine curiousity. it fades as professor fuller continues to speak and he swallows hard, fingers curling against the worn, near dilapidated faux leather of his satchel. ]
Oh. I'm fine, really.
[ the faculty meet, tim knows that, but how he came to be the topic of one of their department meetings, he doesn't know. he shifts uncomfortably in the chair, wishing suddenly that his answer would be enough, that he could be released so he could get out into the quad and catch his breath. it's so hard to breathe lately. ]
It's not - nothing happened over break. [ good boy, he can almost hear, as though the faceless man might praise him for sticking well to the narrative they built on the snowy sidewalks near the coffee shop. this conversation didn't happen. he lets out a little breath and glances down at his hands, fidgeting before he glances back up, watching as hawk leans in over the fine wood of his desk.
this office once felt a safe haven - shelves of books, old awards hanging on the wall, photographs from older days at georgetown - a place where he has sat cross-legged in this very chair and argued vehemently some point that professor fuller entertained simply out of kindness. he can see that now, zoomed out on everything - how the man puts up with him. how so many people and faculty smile and nod and let him talk himself in circles.
was he always wasting his breath? ]
The break was just a little long, that's all. Difficult, I guess. Sleep schedule is a little messed up, and I got behind on my research. [ he shrugs one shoulder, glancing up at the man and giving a half, small smile. ]
I'm just really trying to focus, take good notes, make sure I take everything in. I... I have a habit of interrupting classes when I shouldn't. I'm not the one with the degree, after all. It may give others the opportunity to... to participate more. That's all.
[ he wants to bolt. never has he felt nervous energy like this in his life, and yet right here, across from hawkins fuller, he feels as though the chair itself is made of lighting. like all that energy is dumping somewhere and it has nowhere to go but into the bends of his ankles, his knees. ]
Really, I'm fine. I'll... I'll make a better effort to speak up in class. Please apologize to them for me. I wasn't trying to be rude. I - ...really should be going.
no subject
he gives a sheepish nod to some of his other professors in the political science wing as he follows hawk to that corner office he knows well. he's stopped in here many times between classes - most of the time to ask questions about a point in class, or to have him look at a paper before turning it in. other times, simply because he's enjoyed talking to him - needing company in the bustle of the busy day and using a current political event as fodder for that.
but he looks at the door in dread today, stepping inside once he's ushered in and settles in the chair across from the man's desk. he gathers his bag into his lap so as not to remove it from round his torso, but also to have something to hold onto. ]
A condition?
[ he tilts his head, brow furrowing faintly in genuine curiousity. it fades as professor fuller continues to speak and he swallows hard, fingers curling against the worn, near dilapidated faux leather of his satchel. ]
Oh. I'm fine, really.
[ the faculty meet, tim knows that, but how he came to be the topic of one of their department meetings, he doesn't know. he shifts uncomfortably in the chair, wishing suddenly that his answer would be enough, that he could be released so he could get out into the quad and catch his breath. it's so hard to breathe lately. ]
It's not - nothing happened over break. [ good boy, he can almost hear, as though the faceless man might praise him for sticking well to the narrative they built on the snowy sidewalks near the coffee shop. this conversation didn't happen. he lets out a little breath and glances down at his hands, fidgeting before he glances back up, watching as hawk leans in over the fine wood of his desk.
this office once felt a safe haven - shelves of books, old awards hanging on the wall, photographs from older days at georgetown - a place where he has sat cross-legged in this very chair and argued vehemently some point that professor fuller entertained simply out of kindness. he can see that now, zoomed out on everything - how the man puts up with him. how so many people and faculty smile and nod and let him talk himself in circles.
was he always wasting his breath? ]
The break was just a little long, that's all. Difficult, I guess. Sleep schedule is a little messed up, and I got behind on my research. [ he shrugs one shoulder, glancing up at the man and giving a half, small smile. ]
I'm just really trying to focus, take good notes, make sure I take everything in. I... I have a habit of interrupting classes when I shouldn't. I'm not the one with the degree, after all. It may give others the opportunity to... to participate more. That's all.
[ he wants to bolt. never has he felt nervous energy like this in his life, and yet right here, across from hawkins fuller, he feels as though the chair itself is made of lighting. like all that energy is dumping somewhere and it has nowhere to go but into the bends of his ankles, his knees. ]
Really, I'm fine. I'll... I'll make a better effort to speak up in class. Please apologize to them for me. I wasn't trying to be rude. I - ...really should be going.