Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ever had borrowed a jacket from Taym -- tweed with patches on the elbows -- and had dug out his nicest pair of brown jeans to go with it. The result, when paired with a somewhat-faded collared shirt and his thick Life-issued reading glasses, was actually surprisingly professorial, even if the jacket was a couple inches too short in the sleeves.

The smoking, however, was not. He stood at the portal with his bag at his feet, prepared for several days' journey, a cigarette [as always] dangling from one hand. The sun in his eyes, it meant he squinted as his recruits approached, lit from behind so that it obscured their faces, only getting a faint idea of their shapes.

Ever didn't know who'd been assigned to this ridiculous mission. They probably didn't know, either.

Peyton hadn't had to do a god damned thing to wardrobe or appearance to make herself appear age appropriate for this mission. Dainty, features delicate, and choice in style loud, she looked the part of the surly eighteen year old she had been a little under a year ago. Daisy dukes had been paired with a black t-shirt that read 'Jerk' across the front in bold white lettering, and a pair of worn leather boots seemed in danger of falling off stocking covered feet with every step she took towards the portal. Her hair, now well past her hips, had been drawn up into a pair of wildly fluffed buns on either side of her head.

An old bag was slung over her shoulder. Some army surplus duffle with sharpe scribbles decorating faded green. She'd packed clothing and supplies enough for a week, just in case, and on top of that she'd thrown a few thick books for the sake of playing her part properly.

"Yo Ever, Zac." Free hand rose to wave at the pair of them as she wandered up to them. A smile was flashed at Zac, but it melted into an all out smirk as she took in Ever's jack and glasses. "Young teacher, the subject of school girl fantasy.~" What could she say? If she'd had a teacher that looked like him maybe she would have cared just a little more about school.

Maybe.

Zac gave an amused but quiet laugh at something ever had said, it had started as a grin when he’d said he was no one’s fantasy, but widened and become audible at being a ‘delinquent teenager’.

“Well I think I’ve enough tattoos to seem so.” He grinned. “I got a sharpie, anyone need some temporary ink?” He turned his gaze to Peyton with an amused spark in his eyes. Friendly more than impudent at least, since missions were serious after all.

“After you, boss.” He added, without, oddly, even a trace of sarcasm given the greeting that Ever had given him after they met. Smooth first meeting it hadn’t been in the least.

At no point leading up to the school day did Ever mention to them that he had never actually attended high school: that his own experience was limited to a desk set up in a barn out back, his mother explaining too-softly how to diagram sentences. Sure, he'd done a few classes at college, but that had been proper college, had been serious college --

He was fully unprepared for a room full of sullen summer school kids. Sure, there was a lesson plan, a time table, even a handful of resources left by the regular teacher. Eleventh grade French and they were working on the imperfect tense, but within twenty minutes of the lesson, the kids had figured out just how fluent he was and had turned the conversation another direction.

"How do you say d**k then?" Came a snickering question from the front of the class, and Ever paused to think before giving the worst possible answer.

"...like a person, or like uh, the part of your anatomy?"

It meant that they got almost nothing done during the day other than learning curse words. At least Zac and Peyton could potentially learn the meaning behind Ever's twitter name, since Connard was the answer to that question. Somewhere between 'd**k' and '********' in severity, which Ever said with a completely straight face.

Hopefully they wouldn't tattle and get him in too much trouble.

At lunch, he'd slip out the back door to crouch against the building and smoke a cigarette. When the quiet-and-serious kid from the back of the class rounded the corner, he reacted immediately: holding his breath and moving the cigarette behind his back, out of sight.

The kid just stared at him for a moment: "...I'm not stupid."

All the same, it was another moment before Ever opened his mouth to let the smoke out, relaxing back into a more comfortable position and tapping off ash. He couldn't hide it, so he'd just have to commit.

"You're not?" Ever's own tone was dry and teasing, looking the kid over as he brought the cigarette back up to his mouth.

It didn't amuse the kid. Instead he scowled, folding his arms over his chest. "That was terrible. You're a terrible teacher. You're not even a teacher. Who are you, why are you here. Why'd they hire you instead of someone with three proper brain cells?"

It went on like that, Ever just blinking slowly, smoking and listening, his expression bemused as the student paced in a frustrated way. Conspiracy theories abounded, in this one, and he let them run their course. Once they stalled -- or, well, slowed at least -- he'd interrupt.

"Look, kid. I'll get you some worksheets, okay? And I'll look them over when you're done." A pause. "...ça va?"

A scowl, and at least the kid left him alone for a bit. Of course, it meant extra work: tonight, after class, he'd have to make some ******** worksheets.

[rollin]

They could talk about it a bit after the school day was over: Ever's expression stunned at Peyton's announcement. Had their student been the same? If so, he'd missed an opportunity -- not that he'd mention it to her. No point making himself seem less competent than he even was.

Besides, he had to make those worksheets.

At least it meant he was moderately competent come the next morning, combining his students' desire for slang with an actual lesson on the imperfect tense. It was entirely inappropriate, but learning was done, an improvement from yesterday, and maybe they could just chalk it off to a newbie nervous in the face of so many teenagers.

Come lunch time, he'd wander a bit today, hands in his pockets: the bathrooms, some of the empty classrooms, searching for some out-of-place shadow here or there. Nothing. On his way back to the cafeteria he was almost bowled over by three laughing girls in short skirts. One was from his class and she batted her eyelashes to a disturbing degree as she passed.

They all lost it at his baffled expression.

He expected trouble after the break, but instead they came in looking drawn, quiet and serious: the flirty one, whether it had been teasing or serious, wouldn't even meet his eyes. And, indeed, the whole class seemed a bit more subdued.

Ever was a bit confused by the way they all just did their work.

He thought he'd started to get the hang of how this worked...

Day 2 -

After the whole ordeal the day before with being cornered and questioned Peyton was keen on keeping a low profile. Instead of her more colorful, flashy attire, she'd instead gone with a borrowed sweater from Noah. Half-life, she'd been told, it was orange and grey and hit her at about mid thigh, fitting like a short dress. Her hood was up, curls falling around her shoulders.

She'd assumed this would be more understated than her usual style, the sneers from the trio of girls she passed on her way to meet Zac in the hall before class. Brow arched, she met their hostile eyes before shaking her head. To Zac she murmured a lowly. "I don't get teenage, and I am one still."

She didn't know what Zac had been telling the girls, or that they considered Ever cute. She didn't know that the other girls felt threatened by her presence, and Ever's apparent familiarity with her. High school girls were ******** weird.

Peyton found it a relief when they showed up after lunch subdued, but that relief was short lived when their so-serious expressions didn't fade away after the first fifteen minutes.

Lips pressing into a thin line, she meet Zac's glance, shoulders rising ever so slightly.

The entire class seemed off, down and out, overly quiet considering the learning material Ever had provided for them. It was cause for concern.

"I am doing this under protest." Peyton called it out to the two boys waiting outside the locker room, shimmying her way into another locker to root through the contents. It was a joke, of course. She didn't really mind, hell, there was worse she'd do for the sake of a mission than a little breaking and entering.

Since she wasn't sure what they were supposed to be looking for she was careful to examine each and every item she found. It was a job that threatened to last hours, but a little luck had her finding the notebook in only the sixth locker she looked in. "Hey, I got something!" Tucking the notebook under her arm she high-tailed it out into the hall, sliding a little on the linoleum before coming to a stop beside them "Look." She pointed to the cover, the familiar pumpkin symbol embossed on it. "That's the emblem of that damn school."

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In class Peyton had made sure to grab a seat beside Zac so the both of them could flip through the book together. She'd paid attention during roll call, eyeing the girl that had enthusiastically thrust her hand into the air as her name had been called, but her attention was all for the notebook during the remainder of the class.

Any action they might take would have to wait until after bell.