[ although tim might seem a little naive and innocent, he knows how to navigate games and systems sometimes better than people might know. so if he could know that hawk was thinking of the many ways he might be able to be nice? well, he'd feel boyishly triumphant. the brief look on the man's face alone gives him a hint, and it does nothing to erase the sort of confident tug at the corner of his lips even as they continue.

his summer has been one of the best of his life thus far - spent reading, studying, relaxing. he's taken office hours and lunches with professor fuller, wandered off campus after classes, still in the heat of discussions. he has money enough to pay for senior year already, what with his summer being paid for, and something about that takes so much weight from his shoulders.

never mind the mysterious user who, he suspects, might very well be the man murmuring into his ear just shy of unprofessional. he hums, gives a little nod as if surprised by this news. ]

She didn't seem your type, but what would I know? [ he tilts his head a little bit, picking up the pace until they grow nearer to the door of the building for class. he almost dares to start naming the man's type - brown hair, glasses, freckles, a penchant for government and us politics...

no.

but the charge on the air tells him differently - the lower register of hawk's voice sends something white-hot blooming into his chest and he lets out a little breath, a huff of a laugh. something has changed this summer. maybe it's the lunches, the outdoor chats, all the extra-curricular meetings that somehow start with class and end with late-night discussions.

but the man removes his shades, stands in the afternoon sun and somehow everything about him is the domineering, good boy sort of man he knows he can be. him looks up into the stark blue of his eyes, tilts his head to raise his jaw in the faintest hint of defiance - a challenge. but he chews on his bottom lip a moment before speaking, as if the motion alone will help him think.

it's for another reason altogether. ]

I can take a lot of things. [ diplomatic, and one might think timothy laughlin would do well in the senate or house or even a court room for the way the warm, calm expression never leaves his face. a student speaking to a professor, were it not for the fire behind his eyes, the faint pinch of his brow, the tug at the corner of his lips. ]

And coming out on top is really relative, isn't it? Subjective. The top looks different to a lot of people - especially when you're as flexible and willing as I can be. I like to learn new things, challenge myself - and maybe sometimes I don't mind being bent out of and into new positions.

[ he shrugs again, the tawny brown of his hair feathering across his forehead on the cool summer breeze. ]

I can't exactly fault you for playing the game. Though I don't think you've won just yet. You'll have to give it to me more than hard if you want me to stop. Or just tell me.

[ he smiles, almost boyish and sheepish in the way he shrugs again, one shoulder coming up to the red flush of his ear lobe. his lips twist and for a moment he glances away, to the sun shining on the quad, then back up to him. give me an order, it dares with a renewed confidence, brought on by the summer. the lines between skippy and tim are blurring. dangerous, he knows.

a tiny part of him hopes that the other six people in the class with them have left, what with the delay of their professor and the balmy, summer air. he steps past hawk, reaching for the door, but he pauses and looks over his shoulder at him. ]

People might think you've ditched at this rate - then what good will my mouth be?