Snippet #2039876

Viktor sat at a desk, almost the same dead-silent person he had been since he came a week before. There was a hefty automechanics split a few chapters forward, him leaning over it studiously. The only thing that separated him from those around, other than his surly disposition and general unapproachfulness, was the balison being flicked around in his left hand while he read. It was fake-dull, more accurately-but all-metal. It was just sharp enough for stabbing, although his teachers had allowed him to keep it; the edges were not tempered for cutting. It wasn't technically considered a "weapon," although the few knicks on his fingers proved it was still deadly.

With a sigh, Viktor flipped another page, twirling and creasing the new corner like he had the several last. He always did small things when he was lost in thought-picking at scabs or flipping coins-and could not help hit. He chastised himself always when he realized it was being done, but he had realized that it was nearly impossible to focus without it-like how some people can only finish their homework if the T.V. is on. The carborator... not to be confused with... because the gas-pressure... minimum jump-start voltage... lack of glow plugs... diesel engine requirements...

Two girls started talking. They broke his focus. Normally that would not happen, but these two girls were people who he had learned were to be reckoned with-Callen and Anna, who he saw around regularly. Callen had an obvious reason to avoid: She was not the kind of girl you fucked with. Ever. Anna, on the other hand, was to be feared on extension-her father was a very potentially dangerous man. To Viktor in particular, for his own family was not in good standings with the Van Helsings-not that any of the living knew that, of course.

Viktor wished to ignore them. Every conversation he had heard from them was mind-drillingly boring. "What was your answer to the homework? What class are you going to? What did he do to you, and how long is he going to be in the hospital for it? He looked back down at the mountains of text and then closed his eyes. With his concentration shattered, the balisong's blade flicked around and cut into his index finger. "Dammit," Viktor muttered under his breath. He flicked it shut, slid it into his pocket, and left his hand there so the blood would not ruin the book. Vortex theory of combustion... steam engines... voxel hose...

Still, what Callen said bothered Viktor. Who returned? He figured it was nothing, but as Callen was curious, he was paranoid. Did her favorite boy-band get back together? he wondered rather unjustly. They had not caused him grief, and still he disliked them.

Tri-spring connects to the bi-spring in order to ground the velocaraptor. "The hell?" Viktor had meant to ask in vociferation (someone had written in the book and replaced an entire paragraph with crap), however it came out rather loud, and angry sounding. He looked up when he realized this, studied each earshot-library-going he saw, and pulled the balisong back out. He resumed flicking and twisting it around, turning his attention back down to his book, ignoring the fact that he looked like he was going to mug someone.