[Hm. Well, that's certainly worrying, but on the other hand, that can't possibly be the entire truth. People can be irrationally violent, but they usually have a reason.]
Should I fear you'll do that to me?
And yes, I did. My parents weren't particularly enthused about my attending university at all; they certainly didn't care what I studied while I was there.
[She must have had to fight. Against her parents, against the school, against society. Fugo can respect that, even if it's almost the inverse of his own experiences. He didn't push through school because there was a field he was so passionate about that he couldn't not pursue it; he was being educated and cultivated as a proper asset, a tool to further expand his grandfather's interest and influence in the world of aristocrats he wanted so badly to be an unquestioned part of.]
Ideally, if things were headed in that direction, I would cut off contact before it got to that point.
From the sounds of it you didn't keep contact with them afterwards.
[She'll address that second point in a moment. She'll tell him all about keeping contact with her parents. But a secret for a secret, that's how this has gone, and she wants to know what her student is capable of. Is he going to simply pop off and start harming her? She's beyond clever, but she's not much for one-on-one combat. She can hurt someone, but she's nothing against someone who can truly fight.]
My grandmother passed away during midterms. I had to stay to finish them, so I wasn't able to attend her funeral. Apparently my essay for his class was complete gibberish about a different subject, so he called me into his office to lecture me about it. When I told him what happened, he said I was lying because my grandfather hadn't contacted the school and that I was too old to be so clingy and childish. That's when I started hitting him.
[Even now, he writes very clinically about the incident and makes no move to defend himself. He presents simple facts and takes ownership over his own actions. He failed a test, so it was his fault that he had been called in to begin with; his professor didn't "make him angry," it's that he couldn't control his temper in a moment of crisis.]
[She taps two fingers against the table, rereading his paragraph twice. Ah, she thinks, and then: all right. Not an unprovoked attack, then. Not something that came from nowhere and had no buildup. A reaction likely born of an awful combination of grief and anger, and while the response was more extreme than most, she can't say she entirely blames him. It'd be a damn lie to say she hadn't thought about doing such a thing to some of her more idiotic professors. The sexist ones, the patronizing ones and the leering ones, the ones who stared and insinuated--
Well, anyway. She clearly has little to fear in the short-term from her student.]
All right.
[A beat, and then, continuing their exchange:]
They disowned me once I made it clear I had no intention of giving up my chosen course of study.
Her words have a note of simple finality: that what he's told her enough for her to make a decision. There's nothing more that needs to be said. He reads her own message again: a secret for a secret.]
People like that aren't worth it to keep around anyway.
[Fugo finds himself slamming up against an odd road block: he can't understand why Rosalind is offering that to him. This whole conversation has been odd from start to finish and this is just-- sort of a cap on all this strangeness. All of a sudden he feels unhappy and a little foolish for sharing something so personal with someone who might as well be a stranger to him.]
Difficulty is not an issue when the only way to go is forward.
I'll keep your offer in mind if I run into a wall with my own studies in that area.
[It doesn't help, either, that he can't exactly be open with what he's been doing with his life after university. He'll think about it, though, and try to get a better grasp of what sort of person she is this coming weekend.]
You said you wanted to take a look at my notes about the supernatural creatures here. Along with that, what kind of books would you like me to bring you this Saturday?
Books on physics and mathematics. Textbooks if you can find them, but whatever you've been studying out of works. Bring ones that challenge you: you ought to be able to understand some of it, but not all of it. I don't doubt you're truly at the level you say you are, but I want to know specifics, and see how you work.
In terms of books that fulfill your end of the bargain: ones on engineering.
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Should I fear you'll do that to me?
And yes, I did. My parents weren't particularly enthused about my attending university at all; they certainly didn't care what I studied while I was there.
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Ideally, if things were headed in that direction, I would cut off contact before it got to that point.
From the sounds of it you didn't keep contact with them afterwards.
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[She'll address that second point in a moment. She'll tell him all about keeping contact with her parents. But a secret for a secret, that's how this has gone, and she wants to know what her student is capable of. Is he going to simply pop off and start harming her? She's beyond clever, but she's not much for one-on-one combat. She can hurt someone, but she's nothing against someone who can truly fight.]
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My grandmother passed away during midterms. I had to stay to finish them, so I wasn't able to attend her funeral. Apparently my essay for his class was complete gibberish about a different subject, so he called me into his office to lecture me about it. When I told him what happened, he said I was lying because my grandfather hadn't contacted the school and that I was too old to be so clingy and childish. That's when I started hitting him.
[Even now, he writes very clinically about the incident and makes no move to defend himself. He presents simple facts and takes ownership over his own actions. He failed a test, so it was his fault that he had been called in to begin with; his professor didn't "make him angry," it's that he couldn't control his temper in a moment of crisis.]
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Well, anyway. She clearly has little to fear in the short-term from her student.]
All right.
[A beat, and then, continuing their exchange:]
They disowned me once I made it clear I had no intention of giving up my chosen course of study.
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Her words have a note of simple finality: that what he's told her enough for her to make a decision. There's nothing more that needs to be said. He reads her own message again: a secret for a secret.]
People like that aren't worth it to keep around anyway.
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Do you have any intention of trying to complete your degree, or are you simply going to work around it?
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But I'd rather not.
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Difficulty is not an issue when the only way to go is forward.
I'll keep your offer in mind if I run into a wall with my own studies in that area.
[It doesn't help, either, that he can't exactly be open with what he's been doing with his life after university. He'll think about it, though, and try to get a better grasp of what sort of person she is this coming weekend.]
You said you wanted to take a look at my notes about the supernatural creatures here. Along with that, what kind of books would you like me to bring you this Saturday?
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In terms of books that fulfill your end of the bargain: ones on engineering.
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Alright. I can do that.
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