Victor
~"I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy."~ Charles Baudelaire
~"I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy."~ Charles Baudelaire
Victor felt flushed, and his sudden barrage of nerves prompted him to wonder if he was going to need to go dig around for his inhaler--- what a drag that would have been, that might have been a sight indeed, huffing a cigarette and then breaking to huff his inhaler oh the rich delicious irony.
Make us proud.
Victor's finger tapping stopped in one single instant once the cigarette was snagged from his mouth. The action had caught him off guard and it prompted a low grunt. A white-hotted fury bubbled up inside his stomach and threatened to erupt in the form of a string of mild obscenities; but when the fair skinned youth turned to see his favorite teacher Renard, his face calmed immediately into a pointed smirk. Renard was perhaps Victor's most favorite teacher there, one who spoke in familiar dialects and one who understood the passions of music.
Ahh, and then he was speaking German- Victor's trembling stopped like it had been a flame doused upon hearing his maiden tongue, it was more soothing to hear than what he might have admitted to the kind teacher- for he no longer clawed at his collar. "Sicherlich" (( Certainly )) Victor watched with feline-esque features- offering only a crooked little smile while the other took a quick drag. "Ein Schüler lernt vom Lehrer, nachdem alle." (( I guess a student learns from their teacher, after all. ))
When the teacher excused himself Victor nodded and immediately put the cigarette out; in all seriousness Victor respected Renard very much- and the request wasn't going to be ignored or tossed aside just because Renard had asked nicely and without threat. Victor envied the man's ability to connect so easily; he turned and watched the relaxed man as he played the role of perfect teacher man- matching the new shy ones with other new shy ones---
Victor turned back to himself, now that he could breath again he began whistling, slipping his arms into his jacket a little easier ( he must have lost weight ) after realizing that he'd felt a sudden chill; Victor knew that he would be allowed to wear his jacket seeing as they weren't doing anything pressingly academic at the very moment. The light haired youth flipped the fluffy white hood over his head and ceased whistling when he chose to be content with chewing on the end of his pen instead.
