[the well-loved, probably faux leather covering the bag that is clearly on its last leg does not escape hawk's notice, nor does the way it seems to mimic tim's overall existence at the moment. worn out, bone tired, in need of some relief. that's why it surprises him when some semblance of the student he'd been so used to crops back up - the obvious frustration at the topic, the honest criticism of hawk's own syllabus, which isn't that drastically different from last semester's, and the commentary he's clearly been holding back spelled out on stark white. he's still in there, hawk realizes, and thank god - but it's clear there's been damage done both to his confidence and probably his wallet, even if that's an elephant in the room they're both dancing around very carefully.
that doesn't mean he's going soft on his teaching, or that he's going to cut tim more of a break than anyone else - even if he wants to. hawk leans forward again when tim stands, chin tipping up to draw his attention and silently indicate not to leave - not yet.]
You know how much easier my job would be if every student participated like you? Class would be a hell of a lot more engaged.
[he offers a brief, but wry smile, a twinkle in the washed blue sparkling in his eye.]
Look, it's not about Vietnam. And you don't have any responsibility or obligation to me, god no - nor am I looking for you to change any of your opinions overnight. I may have...commented on your leanings in the past, but it's only because the reality of Washington is a whole other beast I have no doubt you'll be in the mouth of someday. I'm not doing you the disservice of letting you walk in like a lamb.
[which is what he feels like he's doing, in essence, by cutting him off from an extra $500 a week he probably desperately needs. hawk rubs at his jaw absently again, watching as tim stuffs his things back into his bag and disperses some of his jittery nerves, clearly ready to leave, even if hawk isn't ready to let him go. he leaves tim's paper on the desk, already knowing he's going to go through it again with a fine-tooth comb and wonder if he was too soft and just trying not to rock the boat. and if he did, then that means he's failed on some level and he won't fucking do that again.
hawk finally stands too, taking a step towards the door to try and block him off from leaving without some kind of resolution.]
Going up the Hill and back is a pretty long way for lunch. I've got some snacks here if it'll save you the trip.
[hawk has never felt the need to explain himself to anyone, to fill awkward silences instead of letting someone else stew in them to a point, but he's stalling in a way, trying to dig deeper into the root of the issue here. the thought of letting tim walk out that door without any resolution makes him feel a steadily growing knot in his chest. he jabs a thumb back towards the door in the direction of the main lobby, where helpful maps and pamphlets and student guides and the administration staff sit.]
Got a new secretary at the front desk this year, and I think she's trying to fatten me up with all this stuff.
no subject
that doesn't mean he's going soft on his teaching, or that he's going to cut tim more of a break than anyone else - even if he wants to. hawk leans forward again when tim stands, chin tipping up to draw his attention and silently indicate not to leave - not yet.]
You know how much easier my job would be if every student participated like you? Class would be a hell of a lot more engaged.
[he offers a brief, but wry smile, a twinkle in the washed blue sparkling in his eye.]
Look, it's not about Vietnam. And you don't have any responsibility or obligation to me, god no - nor am I looking for you to change any of your opinions overnight. I may have...commented on your leanings in the past, but it's only because the reality of Washington is a whole other beast I have no doubt you'll be in the mouth of someday. I'm not doing you the disservice of letting you walk in like a lamb.
[which is what he feels like he's doing, in essence, by cutting him off from an extra $500 a week he probably desperately needs. hawk rubs at his jaw absently again, watching as tim stuffs his things back into his bag and disperses some of his jittery nerves, clearly ready to leave, even if hawk isn't ready to let him go. he leaves tim's paper on the desk, already knowing he's going to go through it again with a fine-tooth comb and wonder if he was too soft and just trying not to rock the boat. and if he did, then that means he's failed on some level and he won't fucking do that again.
hawk finally stands too, taking a step towards the door to try and block him off from leaving without some kind of resolution.]
Going up the Hill and back is a pretty long way for lunch. I've got some snacks here if it'll save you the trip.
[hawk has never felt the need to explain himself to anyone, to fill awkward silences instead of letting someone else stew in them to a point, but he's stalling in a way, trying to dig deeper into the root of the issue here. the thought of letting tim walk out that door without any resolution makes him feel a steadily growing knot in his chest. he jabs a thumb back towards the door in the direction of the main lobby, where helpful maps and pamphlets and student guides and the administration staff sit.]
Got a new secretary at the front desk this year, and I think she's trying to fatten me up with all this stuff.