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Mr. Gordon had a knack for picking activities which Yvette just royally sucked at. First classroom debating and discussing, and now finding partners and reading something aloud. Nobody would be able to hear her the next day, no matter how much she practiced her lines. Unless the class was completely quiet (which it wouldn't be), then nobody would be able to hear her.

For a moment, she seemed a bit more caught up in fretting over the next day, rather than the current task of finding a partner for the activity. Her lips were weighed down with a small frown and she let out a wispy sigh.

Azzo had done everything right. He approached carefully and spoke quietly as to not spook the timid creature huddled over her notebook. Normally she might have freaked out if someone came along too energetically, most likely startling like a horse. This time, her eyes drifted over to the puppy-earred boy in an almost careful fashion as she listened to what he had to say.

"Oh, um..." She pushed her body up and quickly closed up her notebook so her gesture drawings could not be seen. They weren't really all that good, so nobody's eyes but her own were going to see the sketches if she had any say in the matter.

"I r-really didn't th-think about it..."

Leave it to Yvette to worry about the final product rather than the current task at hand.

Tallulah hated group work, hated it with a passion. It was no secret that most of her classmates burned with quiet dislike for her, and the feeling was occasionally mutual. She dreaded working with someone who would expect her to do the entirety of the project (although, even if they did do their share, she would probably wind up doing the whole thing, anyway, or at least telling them how to do it), and hated being paired with people she considered her intellectual inferiors.

Unfortunately it didn't seem like she had much of a choice in the matter, because the rest of the class had already paired off, and the only person left was... well, she thought his name was Azzo, but that didn't matter, because the fact was that he'd walked in late. Tallulah scanned the room frantically, looking for anyone, anyone left unpaired, who hadn't been late to class, or disruptive, or just wasn't a total imbecile.

It was not going well. She frowned down at her copy of Hamlet. "The readiness is all," she sighed to herself, and got up.

"Uh, Azzo?" she asked, a noticeable note of defeat in her voice.

Charys Murphy didn't even try to act as though she was going to pick someone: she said aloud, "Oh man, who have I not worked with before," and hummed a few bars of the Thinking Hard! game show song. Then she feigned surprise at the boy sitting in the desk next to her, and said: "Charlie. Have we met before?"

"Once," said the blonde-haired boy, "briefly. From a distance."

"Marvels," said the girl who did all lab partners with him that she could, ever, and had been copying his homework for further years. She'd used to copy his grade school homework. Every single fat scrubby crayon picture had mimicked Charlie Boyle's. Around them other people were pairing up -- Azzo, Tallulah, Vera and Janice, Nora and Genevieve. The usual gang of suspects. "Be my partner, foreigner. It'll be like 3:10 To Yuma, except not actually resembling 3:10 To Yuma."

"Charys," said Charlie doggedly, "I'm not doing your homework."

"You don't do my homework," she said, "you inspire my homework."

"Aha. Like the Sistine Chapel."

"More like the Pussycat Dolls." (Charlie looked as though he suspected this wasn't a real band.)

Mr. Gordon told them to select partners, and Vanessa was all over that idea like what on rice. She was a nut for group assignments, and was not shy about working with anyone. It never occurred to her to wait and see if someone might want to ask her or, for that matter, appreciate being asked themselves- and immediately scanned the heads of her classmates for a suitable teammate.

She didn't think very long or very hard about it at all, and flashed a giant, toothy smile at Tate. The other girl seemed to know what she was talking about. She, Vanessa felt sure, had at least read the play. Hindsight had proven preparation and knowledge to be handy traits and, since Vanessa had neither, she thought it only made sense for her to team up with somebody who did. Plus, Tate already had her own set of shiny Mardi Gras beads. Maybe she could help Vanessa get some too.

"Tate!" Her voice was naturally loud, but not unbearably so, and she used a thumb to point at herself. "You'll be my partner?"

It was meant to be a request, but came out sounding more like a friendly command.

Tate's narrowed eyes and less than enthusiastic response did little to deter Vanessa's dimwitted confidence. Smiling toothily, excited to have snagged such a clearly intelligent partner, Vanessa gripped either side of her desk in her hands, picked it up and shuffled awkwardly to the side. The rough angle sent her copy of Hamlet, along with her pencil case and its various contents, sliding to the floor with a clatter.

"Whoops," she mumbled absently, stopping to gather everything together and, with her pencil case returned to its usual state of 'fit-to-bursting,' tucked both book and pencil case under her armpits to avoid another unnecessary spill. The hind feet of her desk squeaked obnoxiously along the tile floor as she dragged it forwards, and then flopped unceremoniously beside Tate.

"I think we should do a fun scene," Vanessa supplied in what she clearly thought was a helpful tone, "Isn't there one with a ghost? I would be good at that. Being a ghost, I mean. I can make my voice real deep and creepy sounding. Like this." To make her point, she lowered her voice several octaves. "BOOOOOO."

Vanessa was completely unaware of Tate's horror at the prospect of their partnership, and simply sat beside her new partner with a cheery expression. For the first time since the start of the class, she picked up her copy of Hamlet and thumbed through it experimentally; tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she examined the contents with a critical eye.

She did not know what the Geneva Convention was and blinked, while pondering why anybody would even bother to care if it was violated in the first place, as Tate spoke and then said, in an amiably disinterested voice, "…right."

When Tate chose the scene they would read and assigned roles, Vanessa was decidedly much more eager to get cracking. Normally, she would have pushed for the main role and the biggest part (Vanessa didn't need to have read the play to know that this belonged to Hamlet. His name was on the cover, after all!), but Tate had also made it clear to Vanessa earlier that Hamlet was a douche. She didn't care who played him, as long as she didn't have to.

Plus, Vanessa looked forward to mimicking the death rasp of a man who'd just been skewered on the end of a sword. Even though she didn't yet know that he'd been skewered on the end of a sword.

Then, Tate threatened her and Vanessa, cocking an eyebrow, cracked a self-indulgent grin. "Why? Did I scare you?"

The girl didn't respond for a moment. It should have been obvious that at this point, she really didn't have a choice in the matter of being partners or not. However, this would have been rude to mention, so instead she remained silent.

It wasn't awkward, because Yvette was naturally so quiet already. It was very natural for her to not talk. When her voice decided to work again, she had already moved onto step 2, instead of answering step 1 (the question about being partners).

"We're supposed to read a scene from Hamlet," she offered in her usual tiny voice. "It sounds like we get to pick the scene."

There was a slight pause.

"It would probably be best if we did a scene where I don't have to talk much." The girl was not exactly the prime example of a good student, since she had to bend forward for a moment to grab her book from her backpack. She had spent the entire class so far drawing rather than taking notes. With her book at hand, she began to flip through the pages. She wasn't about to lend her book to the boy. It was her book. However, he couldn't help her pick the scene this way.

"Y-you can look over my shoulder i-if you want. S-so you can read along." Her eyes focused in on the text in the book, as if trying to avoid looking at the boy directly. "Let me know if you find something you want to read..."

Scene readings? Damian was pretty ambivalent on scene readings. He didn't mind getting up in front of the class, that part was easy. It was memorizing all the lines that was annoying. He supposed it could be worse, they could be putting on a stage production of Hamlet.

The boy watched as she got out her book, nodding a bit. Given the fact he had to lean towards her to hear her, a scene where she didn't talk much would be best, he had a feeling half her words wouldn't make it to the audience's ears.

At the offer to look over her shoulder Damian smiled. "Sure, thanks." Standing up he moved behind her, resting one hand on the back of her chair. With his free hand he brushed the hair out of his face as he looked at the book in her hand. He watched the pages go by until he spotted a scene with just two names. "How about that one?" He reached over putting a finger on the page to stop her. It was Act I, Scene 3, Laertes and Ophelia. It looked like Ophelia had the shorter lines while Laertes had the longer ones.