#zedechemist

It was so stupid - a moment of absolute anger and rage and Gus had let his morals drop and thrown a punch. He'd gotten one right back, but he'd thrown the first one. And that was what got him on academic probation, without pay.

And so, the text to Zed reads:

'Hi Zed, it's Gus. I can't interpret for your lecture this Friday. which means i also cant buy your coffee. Im so sorry, but I'm on probation from teaching. I punched someone. :( and got punched :((( it was the chemistry chair D: if you're ok with hanging around a criminal, I can make us coffee at my apartment? or i have booze!! i'll send my address over. please?'

Long and wordy and a bit too much emotion, much like Gus himself. He's not sure if he actually expects Zed to show up, so when he hears a knock at the door, he jumps up as Chelle starts yipping. "Alright, alright, lady!" He scoops up the tiny old chihuahua and opens the door. Facing Zed is the ASL professor, sporting a black eye and a rather dumb smile. Beyond elated. "You came!"

He leads him inside. "Come on in, please. Coffee or beer? Or uh... wine, tequila, vodka..." He sets the tiny dog back down after she calms, and rolls up the sleeves of his old and threadbare corduroy button-up shirt. His knuckles on one hand are bruised and purple.

As any of Gus's many students can attest, Mr. Amado does not get angry! ... he just gets disappointed (and they all agree that's far worse). And it seemed in particular with the chemistry department, he was finding himself disappointed a lot. One would assume a university of such caliber could afford to update itself out of the 1960s and be more accessible. And yet the only ramp is at the other end of the building, the elevator frequently doesn't work, and the interpreters... well, what interpreters?

One of the few people Gus has beef with is the goddamn chemistry chair. Self-important asshole didn't think it was worth it to pay interpreters for any of the lectures. So. Gus picks up the slack. A lot of it.

It's usually a similar deal - right after his 9 AM 'Intro to ASL' course ends on Fridays, Gus goes speed-walking across campus to Curie Hall. He shows up a mess, throws his bag somewhere, gives a little nod to the lecturer, and starts signing along. The end. No questions asked.

And many blessed times, it's Professor Movska doing the speaking. Gus enjoys the way he talks to his students- his hands float along the words easier when it's Zed, and he finds the man speaks at a perfect pace to finger-spell complex chemicals that have no official sign. It's almost peaceful after a tumultuous morning. He looks forward to it... despite the doing it for free thing.

"Just let me do it, please?" Gus is throwing his messenger bag strap over one shoulder as he follows Zed out onto the green after another successful lecture. "I was late! Interrupted your flow. Sign language is all about flow, okay? I could feel it, so don't lie. So let me buy lunch. Or another coffee!" He checks his watch. "11:46... you have to be hungry."

"Zed, I know you enough to know you're the type of guy that doesn't care to know the details of people's lives. I know if I wanted to talk, you'd be there, listen, you'd store the information and you wouldn't care to talk about it again but... honestly, there's nothing more you need to know other than I appreciate all your help that night." Isabelle didn't like talking about it, that much was clear. Mathias had left her traumatised, yet furiously determined to give him a taste of his own medicine. She still struggled sleeping alone in her home, even with the newly installed and highly recommended security system, and if she did sleep, it was like she relived it in her nightmares. "I'm fine now, almost fully healed." It had been a month, maybe two. Isabelle was on the mend and doing good physically. "At the point where I can at least buy you a drink to thank you." There was no doubt in her mind, she would likely have bled out without Zed's help.

"Eh... two. He's a grump and I'm a bit sarcastic so I think we'd need a few to loosen up. But he's hot, I mean. I'm not stupid."

How they got on this topic, Lara isn't sure - philosophical discussions tend to follow when she opens her mouth to talk about something serious, and not just trying to manipulate someone into her bed or for their votes for Julian. It had started with a quick repeat visit to the mechanic to pick up... something or other, requested by a friend.

It's fun, though.

"I'd agree, but that doesn't really hold true when you look at it in the grand scheme of things, you see?" Lara leans forward on the counter, all smiles, hip cocked. "Shades of gray only matter when you get granular. Yes, this candidate has great grassroots organizing, but the bills they vote on show their true nature. But looking larger - the question really is 'Do we want authoritarianism or not?' You got me?"

lara: long story short, i may or may not have been a little too loud with one of your officers. lara: it's handled, it's fine. lara: he'll be a little red-faced in the morning when his face just so happens to be in a marketing campaign - but totally fine.

aria: not sure if you noticed, but there's someone watching you super intently at your two o'clock aria: i think they're checking you out? aria: either that or they really wanna know what designer those slacks are.

Send “#” for a RANDOM text.

[text]: you do know i'm going to have to pick your brain about this 50 different ways next week, right? be prepared! i'll bring chopped salads for lunch ;)