[Wine was usually his pleasure, preferably enjoyed alongside a good meal or while reading in front of his fire or on the terrace, but tonight, Dr. Gale Dekarios found himself in need of something significantly harder— along with a change of scene. He had chosen a bar a good distance from campus, wanting to spend his evening somewhere he wasn't as likely to be recognized, somewhere that was anything but his usual.
As it turned out, he wasn't quite able to bring himself as far outside of his comfort zone as he might have liked, but the piano bar he'd settled on was more than suitable enough, the ambiance reasonably sedate compared to some of the rowdier options nearby, and the bartender made a good enough old-fashioned that he was now on his second, nearing the bottom of his glass and contemplating a third.
He sat alone at the bar with an open portfolio in front of him, half-completed notes regarding a grant proposal sitting at the top, but it was turning out to be impossible to focus on anything regarding work. Normally, he didn't have that sort of trouble— he could work anywhere, under most any circumstances, but the email he had received just before his department meeting that morning meant he found it impossible to focus on just about anything at the moment.
Waterdeep University would like to welcome our newly-appointed Dean of our College of Physical Sciences, Dr. Ariel—
He pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing heavily and closing the leather portfolio, writing off his efforts for the evening. There was still a good week before he had to worry about seeing her in a meeting, but it was clear enough he wasn't going to be getting anything done tonight— except, perhaps, another drink.
Emptying the rest of his glass at once, he sets it back down heavily with a single fluid motion, raising a hand to give the barkeep a two-fingered wave and a weary smile once he catches her attention.]
[The barkeep turns and smiles at Dr. Dekarios's request. While she begins to work on another old-fashioned for the beleaguered guest, the door to the piano bar opens and a surprising number of people begin to spill in, their voices bright, loud, and cheery and bodies soon fill the empty seats. They're all relatively dressed in various levels of formal-casual, probably originating from one of the art shows that was occurring that evening. Leading the group is a tall woman with dark skin and voluminous hair who happily declares "Drinks are on me!" much to the delight of everyone.
Everyone except, one.
While the new guests are eager to clamor around acclaimed ceramics and jewelry-maker, Jacqueline Berna Oakes, she occupies herself with the sullen woman by her side.]
"Honey, you're still sulking?"
Berna, I'm not—
"You better not be. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were preoccupied with your melancholy instead of being happy for my show's success."
[Amelia Eva Steinbeck, soon to be Professor of Literature in a week, crosses and then uncrosses her arms, sighing. Berna meant well; they had been friends for years and she was always quick to catch on whenever Amelia's mind was elsewhere. It defeated the point of tonight's excursion, which was to revel in a night of art and conversation with friends both old and new. This is her last week to enjoy the last of her free time before she becomes embroiled in the world of academia and she is dressed for the part; her vivid red hair is swept back into a loose bun and she is dressed in a black leather jacket over a floral sundress and Doc Martens. There's no way to mistake her for anything else, but a young and frivolous woman enjoying a fairly hedonistic evening amongst fellow bohemians.
But that was the problem; to Amelia, this was all for Berna, not for her. She was the one who magnetized people and she was just along for the ride. Not oblivious to this, Berna's eyes soften.]
"Thank you for making it out anyway. I know you'd rather curl up with a book and your own bottle to nurse, but you came out to see me and my work anyway."
[Berna hugs Amelia and the latter returns it reluctantly.]
"How about this? You're getting free drinks anyway so you can find your own corner and enjoy yourself. I won't introduce you to anyone and force small talk. Promise."
[This mollifies Amelia and with that, Berna smiles, pats her on the shoulder, and turns to release herself back into the wild with her admirers, leaving the redhead alone. At some point, she gets a drink. Now finding a seat was proving to be difficult. The only spot left was...]
... Pardon me.
[There was the guest, the one before their group arrived, who sat by himself. His side profile was unassuming and non-threatening. So she takes a chance.]
[The incoming crowd only draws his attention for the briefest of moments, inspiring him to check the clock on his phone— it does seem about time for the after-event crowd to start trickling in, and it's clear enough that the members of this group all seem to be coming from the same place. The chatter is already lively, bringing an entirely different mood over the bar, but he thinks it may even be a welcome change— though he doesn't plan on being particularly social, the din of the crowd may be enough to distract him from his own anxious thoughts while he has his last drink.
He takes a moment to check his messages, briefly: two texts from Tara, which he immediately decides he'll return later, knowing precisely what she'll be wanting to talk to him about. He would much rather get his mind off that subject at the moment, and he looks up to offer the barkeep another warm, grateful smile as she sets his drink in front of him, offering a nod of thanks. He's prepared to take his first sip and busy himself with finding something on his phone to serve as a distraction when an unfamiliar voice beside him draws him out of himself.
He looks only mildly surprised when he looks up at its owner; he hadn't expected anyone to care to approach him tonight, assuming his dour mood must have shown as much on the outside as it weighed upon him within, but without a second thought, he finds himself nodding, setting his phone down so that he might use his free hand to gesture to the seat beside him.]
Of course— please, by all means.
[His gaze lingers a moment later than he means for it to, and he's certain it's because of the whiskey doing its work, but even though he had come here for a change of scene and to drown his sorrows, he cannot help but notice that the young woman before him is strikingly lovely.
She must only be speaking to him because the stool beside his is the only one left. Women like her did not approach sweater-wearing, self-pitying astrophysicists in bars like these.]
[He should have deleted her number from his phone the moment she had assured him that she had arrived home safely after their night together— he had sworn, then, that he knew what that evening was meant to be. Eva had been rather plain about the fact that she had only been looking for a distraction, and he had promised himself that he would let that night remain a fond memory and nothing more.
The problem was that he hadn't stopped thinking about her since then. For all his best efforts to throw himself into preparing for the new semester, he found his thoughts constantly wandering back to her, unable to ignore the fact that if they had met any other way, at some other time— things might have been very, very different. The Gale Dekarios of some years prior would have gone out of his way to woo such a woman, before his confidence had been ripped from him, before he'd found himself brokenhearted and hollowed out, wondering if anything he'd ever believed about himself had ever been true.
The Gale of the present did not know what he possibly had to offer, but his thoughts continually turned towards her— to the point of distraction.
Finally, on a Tuesday afternoon, he decides that messaging her is a risk worth taking.]
I know we said our goodbyes the other night, but I was wondering if I might perhaps buy you a cup of coffee sometime? You've been on my mind.
["Eva" had left the fancy Sea Ward apartments with a clarified mind and sharper focus directed at her plans for the rest of the week. Firstly, she spent a whole day reorganizing her space in the house she was sharing with Berna until there were no longer any boxes on the floor, books were shelved, and all of her clothes were folded and hung up. Next, her documents were reshuffled, digitized as needed, and shredded. The floor was swept and mopped. Then the very next day, her neglected plants were pruned and watered. She even sat down and created a grocery shopping list to plan for lunches she would eat while on the job and after that made a large pot of creamy carbonara pasta for her and Berna to eat throughout the day (the salad kits from the store sat in the fridge, chilled and ready).
Amelia Eva Steinbeck was very productive and the small accomplishments bolstered her mood. Her mind may have wandered back to that night every now and then, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.
The uplifted mood does get befuddled as she sits at the kitchen counter eating some pasta and the text notif pops up on her phone screen. She swiftly remembers that the no name number was recently added and she hadn't labeled it yet. It could only have come from one person.
It is a good hour and a half before she settles on a reply.]
"Sometime" is a vague indicator of when, much less where and thus I have less inclination to agree to the offer.
[No comment on how she's been on his mind. She wouldn't know how to even acknowledge that face-to-face, much less over text.]
[He gives a wry smile at the response when it comes through, leaning forward to prop his elbow against his desk as he considers his own reply, reaching for his nearby cup of tea.
Notably, his response comes much sooner than hers had, though there's still a good fifteen minutes between messages. He doesn't want to come off as too horribly desperate.]
I thought I'd test the waters and see if you were at all interested, first. I recall you mentioning a new job, so out of respect for your schedule, the 'when' would be up to you, but I do know an excellent coffee shop in the Castle Ward that's remarkably close to a vintage bookseller.
[To say that Gale had been dreading the interdepartmental meeting set for just a few days before the start of the semester was, perhaps, the understatement of the century. He had been lucky so far in managing to avoid having any personal contact with the new Dean of Physical Sciences so far, but he knew his days were numbered— it would be impossible to avoid her much longer, given that he was meant to answer to her going forward, and unprofessional to even try.
At this very moment, Dr. Ariel Manx was three rows away, seated near the front of the room with her shoulders squared and her attention fixed on the provost as he spoke to all those assembled about the coming semester— she looked immaculate, as ever, closed-off and unflinching. He didn't know if she had seen him yet, but he could only assume she had. Whether or not she cared was another matter entirely, but he wouldn't have minded the opportunity to avoid an actual conversation with her for a little longer.
Thankfully, coffee with Tara had helped him to steel himself for the day to come as best he could. He might have needed a bit of coaxing to get moving in a timely manner that morning, having been a scattered mess of nerves, but Tara had, as always, pushed him to pull himself together, and now sat beside him having just recently returned to their chosen seats with coffee and two of the donuts that had kindly been provided.
The lecture hall the meeting was being held in was far more populated than usual; the appointment of a new dean wasn't the only change that would be seen at Waterdeep University's College of Physical Sciences this semester. With the literature building being renovated, Blackstaff Hall would be opening its doors to their colleagues and sharing space with their department. There were some low rumblings throughout the crowd; Gale knew that a number of people were unhappy about distribution of funds among various programs and had imagined some sort of rivalry between them, but he himself had little opinion on it— so long as he was still able to do his job properly, it didn't matter much in the end. He couldn't imagine anything that could rattle him more than Ariel's appointment as his new boss, regardless, and stress regarding that matter had used up just about every ounce of energy he had to spare between preparing for classes, so much so that even his occasional text exchanges with Eva no longer served as an adequate distraction.
Forcibly, he directs his gaze at the provost and refuses to let it wander in Ariel's direction again, taking an emphatic bite of his donut as he realigned his focus and caught up with the current topic at hand. He'd been more distracted than he cared to admit, though Tara had called him on it repeatedly in the last week— kindly, for the most part. She was sympathetic to his current situation, of course, but both of their concerns regarding the change to their program went well beyond the awkwardness of his having to regularly cross paths and work alongside his ex.
"Before we go any further, we have a few new additions to our staff in both departments this semester, and so introductions are in order."
Gale shifts in his seat as he reaches for his coffee, once again forcing himself to listen, inwardly scolding himself for continually being distracted by his own thoughts. He might not have been his best self at the moment, but it was a matter of days before the start of the semester. He had to pull himself together, and missing out on whatever information the provost had to offer seemed like a poor start if that's what he intended to do.
"First, joining us in our literature department is Professor Amelia Steinbeck— if you would join me for a moment, Professor Steinbeck?"]
The new professor had woken up that morning with an unfamiliar sense of unease. She couldn’t put her finger on the cause of the feeling. The week leading up to the new semester shouldn’t have been for naught and it's not like the astrophyicist’s decreasing amount of texts bothered her. If anything, it was welcome as she was distracted with presenting herself at her new job instead of lingering in the pleasant platonic nature of their messages.
Professor Amelia Steinbeck’s immaculate preparations guaranteed her a successful introduction and induction into her new position. Berna had spent the last two days helping pick out her outfits that weren’t too drab, nor overly bold. Her friend even graciously woke up in the deader hours of the morning to help do hair and makeup because Amelia’s nerves were too frazzled to do it herself. The result was pleasing to the eye, but comfortable enough to traverse the grounds of her new occupation.
So why was it that the first steps out of Oren’s car and toward the esteemed Waterdeep University felt so ominously heavy? Clutching her golden rose pendant around her neck, Professor Steinbeck took a deep breath and headed inside.
It’s just nerves, she told herself. Everything else has been taken care of and there were no loose ends. Today wasn’t going to be the first day of lectures and instead, the interdepartmental meeting that would help her and the literature department settle in while they shared a space with Physical Science. It's a somewhat unfortunate, but small inconvenience.
She was fifteen minutes early to the meeting, opting to sit at the edge of one of the middle rows on her left, and occupy the remaining time by reading a new novel on her tablet. The room starts to fill up with various department educators, administrators, and the like. Next to her, two older men sat down, introducing themselves as professors from the Biology section (Professor Omeluum and Blurg; the former being tall, lanky, quiet, but polite, and the latter was a cheerful and stout kind of character).
While she exchanged pleasantries with them, there were several glances thrown her way. Among the Waterdeep University Staff, it was easy to tell who was new, especially in literature; several people in that department were tenured or already had a few years to be aware.
That and her hair is very red.
The meeting begins and the new professor turns her focus to the speaker and immediately switches out her reading app for her notetaking one, a digital pen ready to fly across the screen.
It’s why she was careless and utterly failed to notice who else was in the same room.]
"First, joining us in our literature department is Professor Amelia Steinbeck— if you would join me for a moment, Professor Steinbeck?"
[The tablet is slipped into her purse and she stands up, smoothing the front of her fawn-colored plaid slacks and black turtleneck. With no regard to the heads turning towards her, Professor Steinbeck strides confidently towards the front so that the administrator can properly introduce her.
When she finally turns to face the audience, a slight silvery gleam catches her eye, noticeable enough even with indoor lighting.
And for a split second, Amelia freezes.
Her hands are clasped together so tightly that her knuckles whiten.
Through her thick framed glasses, green eyes stare into the crowd trying to make sense of what she sees because if her mind isn’t playing tricks on her, she has deduced that she has irrevocacbly fucked up.]
[Gale redirects his attention just in time to catch a glimpse of vibrant red hair— immediately, he thinks of Eva, but he quickly shoves that impulse down in an effort to quell it. Given the tenuous nature of their would-be friendship, it would be best not to let himself do more reminiscing than he already had, and he couldn't afford to let himself be distracted by—
Wait a moment.
The woman called forth by the provost turns to face those assembled, and Gale feels his heart seize in his chest.
Professor Amelia Steinbeck, the provost had said. Amelia? No, this was undeniably her; they had known one another intimately enough that there was no mistaking it. He wouldn't be forgetting "Eva's" face anytime soon, something he had previously been glad for, a pleasant memory to hold onto.
Now, he wasn't so sure.
Time seems to have slowed down to a painful crawl, and not half a moment after he makes his realization, he accidentally inhales part of his donut and starts sputtering as he drops the other half, his eyes impossibly wide as he uses his forearm to cover his mouth while Tara frowns, furrows her brow and gives him a few thumps on the back to help him along.
There's enough low chatter and ambient noise throughout the lecture hall to begin with that he is, thankfully, not terribly disruptive, and the provost continues on without missing a beat.]
"Professor Steinbeck will be handling Classic Literature, with a focus in Folklore and Mythology. Would you like to say a few words, Professor?"
[Waterdeep University's official start of the new semester finally arrived in a blink of an eye.
The first week is, as expected, a whirlwind of emails, syllabuses, long lines at the university book store, students signing up for classes and dropping at the last minute. The freshman are wide-eyed and lost in the vast campus, unaccustomed to university life after their strict high school schedules. Many of the undergraduates quickly fill in the slots for classes that fulfill basic requirements and the literature department find their courses full to the brim.
It doesn't help that the department has to temporarily share their building with the sciences and it causes a misunderstanding or two among the student population. Even the most relaxed and experienced professors are finding it difficult to balance this new arrangement along with this heavier load of students, not to mention the ones who are there for the sciences who keep confusing their offices. Anyone would be harried and mentally taxed.
Not Professor Steinbeck.
There's not a peep of complaint from the new professor of Folklore and Mythology who just buckles down and attacks her work load regardless of the limitations they are subjected to. Her colleagues take note of her efficiency and immaculate professionalism despite being so new to the university and the students who sign up for her course quickly learn that Professor Steinbeck was not to be messed with.
"If you're already planning to ditch this course on day one, then I suggest you drop now so you don't have a failing grade on your record due to your intentional negligence."
Harsh, but as they soon realize after looking at her syllabus, also fair. Her class was clearly designed to set them up for success and by the end of the week, save for a few wise drops, Professor Steinbeck maintained the highest retention.
A new week begins. Amelia arrives early with a thermos of tea and some extra breakfast, courtesy of Berna who had warned her to not overdo it. But Amelia had been grateful for the busyness, seeing as how it helped her keep her mind off...
Well, Dr. Gale Dekarios. As she makes long strides down the hallway... Well, take a good guess at who she passes by.]
... Dr. Dekarios? Good morning.
[That is, in fact, the first time she's acknowledged him since the fateful meeting.]
[He had, so far, made every effort to act as though this semester were the same as any other. Some days, he almost fooled himself into believing that it worked, but as the second week of the semester starts in earnest, it's started to become clear that his efforts thusfar would not be in the least bit sustainable.
He'd had, vainly, every hope that he and the new dean of Blackstaff would be able to behave professionally and with all due courtesy, by and large allowing one another to go about their business. That hope had been dashed almost immediately; after that first meeting before the start of the semester, Dr. Manx had called him to her office to discuss a few last minute changes to his class schedule. Budget cuts and lack of appropriate staff were the reasoning that had been cited, and while they were valid enough, Gale couldn't help but feel that he had been assigned both Remedial Physics and Introduction to Astronomy as some sort of punishment, given the petty streak he knew her to have— despite the fact that he was certain that he was not the one responsible for any past wrongdoing.
In the end, it wasn't worth arguing. The classes were simple enough, material he could teach in his sleep, though they did keep his schedule fuller than he would like and compromised time spent with the research group of graduate students he was meant to direct— but he would find a way to balance it all. He always did, and if it kept him busy, then all the better. Less time to worry about what he might have to say next time he crossed Dr. Manx's path outside of a meeting, and less time to worry about the Eva situation.
It was hardly a situation, though, was it? Eva— or Amelia, he should call her, if he should call her anything at all after she'd made it clear she wished to proceed as though they had never so much as spoken before— Professor Steinbeck had been quite busy managing her own classload and finding her niche here at Waterdeep University, and seemed to be doing quite well despite having come in at such a chaotic time. Word had already spread about the firm stance she'd taken with her classes and her teaching approach, and for a moment, he'd almost allowed himself to feel proud of her ability to balance a strict stance with effectively setting her students up to prosper, only to remind himself that he was in no position to feel anything about what she did or did not do.
Whatever he might have thought for those few days before that fateful meeting, he was a stranger to her, and she had been quite plain in that she wished it to remain that way. He thought about it more than he'd liked, of course; he'd had to explain himself to Tara when he'd met her for dinner after that first day, and though he omitted a great deal of detail, she had gotten the picture well enough, offered her sympathies and encouraged him to let his work carry him forward— he was always happiest when he had a project.
'Happy,' unfortunately, felt very far away at this moment. Sleep had not been coming easily, and this morning found him both pale and weary-looking as he made his way towards the lounge in hopes of grabbing a second cup of coffee before he went about his day. The most recent issue of an astronomy journal had found its way onto his desk that morning with a note tacked on the front of it that simply read "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS??" without any further elaboration. It hadn't needed any— a few moments of leafing through the forward brought his attention to the feature article in question, one whose headline made his blood boil.
Coffee. Coffee would help him push past this enough to let him focus his attention where it ought to be, but he's so entirely out of sorts that he doesn't even see a certain red-headed professor until he hears his name, causing him to stop sharply in his tracks and collect himself with some middling degree of success.]
Oh, Ev— [No, no.] ... Professor Steinbeck. Good morning.
[He may as well have been on another planet, with how distant and surreal this moment felt, but even so, he felt his heart leap into his throat for a moment. He had hoped that a week and some change would have been enough to numb him to the still-vivid memory of her, to make her less strikingly lovely to him.
["Both of you are at fault and the both of you are each other's problems."
Such was Berna's assessments as she prepared a comical amount of breakfast sandwiches to freeze and split with Amelia. The literature professor had reluctantly told her roommate and best friend about Dr. Dekarios of course, without delving into too much detail of their coincidental night after she ditched the afterparty. Berna looked thoughtful, but did not coax any other information out of Amelia.
"He sounds like the sensitive sort and surprisingly discreet. I'll say this now because you're absolutely terrible at reading people when you want nothing to do with them, but you can't pretend he doesn't exist.
You're colleagues now. At least act like that."
Professor Steinbeck balks at the memory and at the artist being right. So she gives it a try and after a cursory once over of the astrophysicist, remarks:]
You look quite dead.
[There's a beat. A small sideways as if she's realized she's said something wrong. Let's try again.]
I apologize, that was unwarranted. I want to say that you've probably seen better days.
[Better, but by how much... She starts rummaging in her large tote bag that's gotten bigger throughout the week.]
[Their previous conversation wasn't the most fruitful, but it was progress in the sense that Professor Steinbeck did not avoid eye contact with Dr. Dekarios when they passed one another (a curt nod of acknowledgement and vocal greeting sufficed) in the hall and she actively reminded him to have a proper meal while shoving an extra sandwich or a throwaway takeout box of whatever she or her roommate had cooked up (Notably, the disposable nature of them was absolutely intentional. There would be no excuse to visit Room 305).
Before she knew it, midterms began to creak its ugly head around. Though she had designed her study guide to be done independently, Amelia had spent more time than she had wanted answering student emails and then there were even more students who had clearly skipped half of their classes and messaged her about wanting to catch up as if their online course room wasn't just right there.
Instead of having her office hours in 305, she settled down in a spot at the library for students to visit her there instead. There were less than she expected, but the conversations were longer than she hoped. It was well into the late afternoon when the last meeting with a student ended.
And for the first time since she began this job, Professor Steinbeck felt a wave of exhaustion come over her and she laid her head down atop of next semester's book. Her eyes feigned reading the words, but the heaviness in her eyelids did not allow her to process anything.
So for the next ten minutes, she lies there, eyes closed, and not a care in the world.]
[The one good thing about being as overburdened as he had found himself this semester was that time seemed to pass quite rapidly— he had little time to dwell on his various troubles and instead forged ahead, burning the candle at both ends far more often than he ought to. His anger towards Dr. Manx and their professional stalemate against one another had continued to simmer, but remained largely impotent, which was as frustrating as the rest of it. It was hardly the sort of thing he had time to waste worrying about now, and if she had hoped that increasing his class load with something others of his level of accomplishment might have found insulting was going to make him crack, she was going to find herself sorely disappointed— though worn thin, he carried the load without complaint, and extended the same courtesies to these younger students that he did his graduates.
Let it never be said that he did not take his job and his potential impact on his students quite seriously.
Time passing quickly also meant that the initial awkwardness of his unexpected reunion with Professor Steinbeck had begun to lose some of its sting. To say that they had become friendly would have been stretching it, but they had developed a sort of rapport of their own since that brief meeting in the hallway— it had been short, but more had come to follow, and while most of them were much the same, he appreciated that she had taken an interest in his well-being, even if he was mildly embarrassed that he seemed to be doing poorly enough that more than one sandwich or meal had been thrust unceremoniously into his hands. In turn, he often returned the favor by passing a cup of coffee her way; there were enough days where their paths crossed that he was certain, at least, of when he would see her, and on at least two more occasions, she would arrive to room 305 in the early morning to find coffee and a scone waiting for her, though he otherwise limited their brief encounters to their corridor crossings.
It was not quite friendship, but he found himself looking forward to those fleeting moments, ephemeral and business-like as they were.
It was not unusual for him to visit the library in the late afternoon, today with the interest in gathering supplements for the next meeting of his graduate group, but as he makes his way towards the stairs to the second floor, that familiar and vibrant red catches his eye in passing, giving him pause. To see a professor of literature here was only natural, of course, but was she...?
He glances at his surroundings only to see that no one seems to be paying him any mind before he approaches, his footfalls silenced by the library's gray carpeting, and he quietly clears his throat to announce himself, only to find that she does, in fact, appear to be quite asleep— with her glasses dangerously askew and in danger of being bent.
He doesn't think he's seen her this relaxed in the entirety of their acquaintance. It seems a shame to wake her, but given that he often wears spectacles himself, the thought of what might become of them if he does not is enough to stir him to act.
He drops down so that he's almost at eye-level with her (and the surface of the table), clearing his throat again softly.]
[It's a fleeting memory, like a faded watercolor painting that has lost its vibrancy. Flowers in her hair, tears streaking her cheeks, fists clenched, and the eye of his lenses staring straight into her soul. He's speaking, but she can't hear him.
What did he say? She wants to remember.]
"Ah, Professor Steinbeck?"
[Her eyes flutter open (looking very like that morning) half-lidded and sleepy. When met with the pair of brown eyes at her level...]
...
...
[She automatically takes a paperback book and pushes it against Dr. Dekarios's forehead with an incoherent grumble.]
[And thus, against all odds, Professor Amelia Steinbeck became friends with Dr. Gale Dekarios.
To outside onlookers it didn't look unusual at all. Quite the opposite. It was Professor Lens who noticed how Dr. Dekarios would leave a thermos of coffee for Professor Steinbeck and she even saw the latter exchange sandwiches with the astrophysicist. When asked about it, Professor Steinbeck replied (while being very careful, Lens noted) that they've started to become acquaintances. Apart from that they were too busy in their respective fields to be seen together too often so any speculation stopped short.
They did start having lunch together— with other colleagues present. Professor Blurg and Omeluum joined them one time, the former being very happy that youngsters would entertain their time with them (and Omeluum may or may not have given Dr. Dekarios a knowing glance once Amelia left for a meeting). One morning, Amelia even found herself tagging along to a breakfast at a diner with Dr. Dekarios and Dr. Prescott. It felt jarring at first to interact with the severe looking woman who was aware of their... "Situationship." Or whatever the kids said these days (her young hired help, Lien Kha said so anyway, but Amelia learned to not take the mischievous young woman at her word).
Dr. Prescott proved to be very pleasant company and Amelia found herself endeared to her if only because they shared some surface-level personality traits. When asked if they could all have breakfast together again, Amelia agreed readily.
Outside of their jobs, they exchanged texts with steady frequency. More than expected, but not too much to be overbearing on either end. She found herself reaching for her phone automatically the moment she saw a notification and smiled when Gale showed her a bookstore she had yet to visit or something he baked that he would inevitably share with her the next day. Sometimes they would meet outside and in-person too. Quick visits to new coffee shops, a quick browse of that aforementioned bookstore, but nothing too long or lingering and never after dark. They both had their academic obligations to fulfill after all.
But life felt fuller. Each morning it wasn't just work that occupied her mind, but anticipation for the smaller things that made getting up in the morning worth it.
The pleasantries and contentedness that had only just started to settle has only made way to her current new headache.
One morning and a week after midterms, a text notif is sent to Gale.]
Apologies, but we'll need to move lunch to another date. I have a situation.
[She didn't mean to make it sound so dire, but the intensity and stress beneath her text can be felt.]
[Those moments they shared as their efforts towards friendship bore fruit had very quickly become the highlights of Gale's days— the friendship he had managed to build with Amelia was quite different from the one he shared with Tara, familial and foundational as it was. Tara, too, seemed eager to encourage it; she was quite pleased to see Gale engaging with others again, after too much time spent withdrawn these last few years, and she had taken quite a liking to Ms. Steinbeck herself.
More than once, she made remarks to Gale in private about whether or not it might become something more, but he politely refuted the suggestion each and every time, insisting upon the fact that he and Amelia had both decided this was a far better course for them to tread. Most days, he even believed it. Even with the additional stress that had been heaped upon him this semester, life felt brighter than it had in a long, long while.
He's in his office between classes when Amelia's message comes, and his brows knit together slightly as he reads it. Postponements or rescheduling weren't terribly alarming, but there was something about the way she phrased it that struck him as being odd, implied that things were not as they ought to be.]
Of course, no apologies necessary. Are you alright? 'Situation' sounds troublesome.
[Professor Steinbeck swerves her chair around to look up at the young man who has entered her's and Professor Len's office. A week or two has passed since the plagiarism debacle (long story short, the student dropped her class and withdrew from the university to transfer to a different institution; thanks Dr. Raphael) and the literature professor has regained her usual rhythm. She's been preparing for finals and making the framework for the students' final projects before Dr. Dekarios' student walked in, greeting her cautiously.
Rolan shuffles his feet and then clears his throat, nodding.]
"Er, yes. I guess Professor Lens or Dr. Dekarios has told you about me?"
Mm. Yes. Believe it or not, the latter has spoken of you highly.
[Amelia rests one arm on her desk, keeping her eyes on Rolan.]
You also seem to pass by this office a lot to say hello to Lens. Former student of hers?
"Well, yes. I took her course for fun, but that's not only..."
[He catches himself and coughs into his fist. And if Professor Steinbeck was observant, there is some color in his cheeks.]
[It's only a few moments later that Gale's own footsteps echo through the corridor as he approaches Professor Steinbeck's shared office with an envelope in hand. For once, he's not flying between classes or in a rush to get back to his own desk for office hours; while his semester remains quite heavy, this happens to be the one day of the week he does have some breathing room, with an hour until his afternoon lab.
It isn't unusual for Gale to find that Amelia isn't alone in her office— Professor Lens has been there more than once when he's stopped by, or a visiting student, but the student he finds there when he reaches the open door takes him quite by surprise.]
Rolan! This is unexpected.
[He pauses to give a sheepish smile as he takes a step back.]
Apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt. I didn't think it was quite your office hours yet, Professor.
He hadn't been so inebriated as to not realize what it was he had sent, but he finds himself second-guessing his actions even before he's managed coffee. He wills himself not to panic, taking the length of shower and breakfast to gain perspective, but find himself watching his phone anxiously nonetheless.
"We'll talk tomorrow— I promise."
Given the way they'd parted, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for him to reach out and make good on his word, and yet the fact that she hasn't responded to his text message yet leaves him feeling hollow, uneasy, the thought of calling her conjuring up the feeling of nervous butterflies that makes him feel about sixteen again.
Of course she hadn't responded yet, he reasons— given the state she'd been in, she was likely sleeping, or ought to have been, and he reminds himself that she's likely to be feeling a bit poorly after the night before. That reminder grants him enough ease to wait until he's had a second cup of coffee and played a few rounds of chess online with Tara before he can't put it off any longer, the anxiety and anticipation both needling at him relentlessly.
He has to talk to her.
Exhaling steadily, he picks up his phone for what must be the thousandth time that morning, and just before noon, he calls.]
[It's 10 AM by the time Amelia's wakes up groggily and then it's 11 AM by the time her hangover headache gets the best of her and makes her drag herself to the kitchen where Berna, who was very unaffected by last night's dinner and drink, has set out a packet of spicy instant ramyun, a hot dog, and a poached egg for her roommate to assemble herself. A freshly made green juice with ginger has been loving prepared in a large glass with a pitcher for refills.
Amelia chugs down the green juice in one go. Thank god it's a Sunday.
As she sluggishly prepares her hangover meal, she checks her phone for emails and missed messages. She sees Gale had left her one last night and before she can read it, her noodles are ready and she assembles her dish before bringing it over to the couch and wrapping herself up in the throw blanket.
Yesterday's occurrences are a lot to think about. So many emotions, so many words, and there's a chance something has changed. What is it exactly?
Hell if she can think of it right now, her head hurts.
It's just before noon after Amelia takes a few slurps of her noodles when her phone rings. If she hadn't seen Gale's caller ID, she might have seriously considered hanging up. Instead...]
[They don't speak again before he leaves Amelia's house that day, but he does leave behind an apology, written on a paper napkin and tucked between the flowers on the counter. It's not much, he reasons, but for now, it will have to do.
After that, he gives her space. It's strange, to go even a day without some kind of exchange between them; he feels her absence keenly and continually traces his steps and recounts his words and actions to himself, analyzing his mistakes from every possible angle. When finals come a few days later, they're a welcome distraction, and almost keep him busy enough to keep his mind occupied. She still slips in, of course, especially if he'd caught a glimpse of her in the corridor, but he doesn't have anywhere near the amount of time to torment himself as he would otherwise.
It's not often that he spares Tara the details of his life, but she asks him where Professor Steinbeck has gotten to, he keeps things brief— she had already known about how he felt, but he keeps Amelia's history and the various contributing factors of their disagreement to himself. Some of it is not his to tell.
After finals, there's but the space of three days before he and Tara are slated to head up the coast to Neverwinter for the conference. Tara had taken it upon herself to take over the planning while Gale contends with wrapping up the semester for his heavy courseload; she makes arrangements for a place to stay just south of the city, with an extra day or two on either side so that they can both take advantage of a long weekend away from Waterdeep. Though the conference was meant to be the highlight of Gale's year, he finds that he isn't looking forward to it the way he had been, and even reworking his presentation is not enough to distract him entirely.
Things start to come apart the day before they're meant to leave. Tara has a sudden family matter that she can't ignore, but encourages Gale to drive up without her regardless, promising that she'll follow the next day and that their trip can then proceed as planned. Gale is resistant at first, insisting he doesn't mind waiting a day, but Tara is more stubborn still, and manages to use a tone of voice that Gale has never once dared to disagree with.
In the end, he drives those two hours up the coast on his own. As a result, his Friday evening is a bit quieter than planned, but the truth is that neither he nor Tara would have opted for anything much livelier had they gone forth with their original plans. The airbnb that Tara had booked is as charming as it was hospitable, and he settles in easily enough, taking time to become acquainted with the kitchen as he puts groceries away.
Eventually, he finds a place to make himself comfortable in the sitting room with a book and a cup of tea, though he feels as though he's simply turning pages. It's rare that he isn't able to focus on something like reading, but even now, with nearly two weeks having passed since he'd given Amelia cause to storm out of her own kitchen, he cannot stop thinking about what he wishes he had done differently— how things ought to have been, instead.
Perhaps he was destined to never get this sort of thing right.]
[When Amelia emerged from her room later that evening, Berna sat on the counter with a folded slice of pizza and holding up the napkin message between her fingers. She didn't say anything, but forced it into Amelia's fingers before telling her to sleep early.
Sleep didn't come easily, but it didn't stop her from preparing for the work week, leaving the house as early as 5 AM, and having one of the custodians, a very confused Minsc, open up the building for her at 6 AM. It's was easy o just settle in at her desk, turn on her computer, and get to work, finishing grades, answering and scheduling emails, reviewing lesson plans for next semester, and checking her calendar for future workshops and events she planned to attend.
There was a pause as the date for Gale's conference shows up after finals on her digital calendar. She had carefully planned for that day off by adding in personal outings to a cafe and maybe a movie before making it out there to see him.
The click felt heavy as she cleared that day and the blank time slots stared at her blankly and accusingly.
Amelia is frustratingly good at going on as is, as if she's never been acquainted with Gale Dekarios at all. Professor Lens furrowed her brow in concern when Professor Steinbeck redirects her inquiries about having lunch with Dr. Dekarios. When having lunch, Omeluum and Blurg didn't ask at all, sensing the chilliness in her demeanor that had replaced her calm and hidden warmth.
Everyone was wrapping up their class projects and whipping up their students into shape for finals anyways. The end of the semester was a good excuse as any, to overlook her personal problems.
Finals come and go and Amelia's very full schedule was no more, save for non-time sensitive errands here and there. For once, Berna did not try to drag her to another vacation destination, much to her surprise. When asked, the artist simply said that she and Oren decided to spend quality time with one another and that Amelia obviously wanted to be alone.
Sometimes, Amelia really hates how biting Berna's under-the-surface criticisms were.
Even her plans to stay in Neverwinter, sans conference attendance, were interrupted. That wasn't too unexpected; she had told her parents to open up bookings again and they let her know someone had filled up a spot right away. Still, a change of scenery would have been nice. She already cleaned every corner of Berna's house until her fingertips felt raw.
So here she was with time and space. Alone. No one to fill up the void, no one who could make her feel anxious and uncertain, no second-guessing and no looking like a fool who was wrapped up in her own self when with someone else.
Unexpectedly, her phone rings and it's her father, Frank Steinbeck, with an apologetic request to drive to the Airbnb in Neverwinter to fix some of the appliances.
"Sorry, Button. Our usual people are on holiday and we don't want to interrupt their family time. You're know the house and are handy enough."
The upcoming weather conditions were concerning, so he urged Amelia to pack lightly to stay overnight and just explain to the guest the circumstances. With nothing better to do, she fills up her travel backpack, the rest of her necessities and heads out. Dark gray clouds have already filled the sky by the time she parks, walks up to the door, and rings the doorbell.]
[First she unknowingly slept with a coworker and now she's slept with a guest from her parent's Airbnb.
Life was a tragic comedy, for Professor Amelia Steinbeck.
Such are the initial thoughts that slam into Amelia as she slowly stirs from sleep. Her body, though heavy, tingles pleasantly throughout much to her embarrassment. After letting another few minutes pass, her stomach flutters, not from regret, much to her relief, but from nervousness. The weight of the man whom she couldn't deny any longer is next to her and she has no idea what time it is and what they'll do next now that pale morning light shines through the window of the bedroom.
Her recklessness, rarely rewarded her. There was a fine line between it and the stubbornness that allowed her to endure career obstacles and challenges. When it came to relationships, it was, frankly speaking, a storm of questionable choices and the consequences would arrive like a car crash.
Which is why she almost moves to leave the bed, but someone's pair of arms is around her, as is their chest against her back, the hairs tickling the surface of her skin.]
Um. Gale?
[She whispers, unsure if her new... Someone... Is awake yet.]
[It had been a long, long while since Gale had slept so soundly— he and Professor Steinbeck had exhausted themselves thoroughly the night before, yes, but more than that, his mind felt at ease for the first time in months. Even when he had refused to admit to what it was that weighed on him so heavily, he could not hide from his own subconscious. For once, he no longer felt at war with himself.
He's already on the very edge of waking when Amelia's voice breaks the morning stillness, small and cautious though it is as she whispers, and he lets out a quiet groan as he fights against the morning light without realizing, his eyes screwing shut just a bit tighter as he ducks his chin and brings his forehead to rest against the top of her head.]
There's no... class today...
[His words are heavy with sleep, slurred; he's not quite lucid yet, but her stirring does help to bring him closer to embracing the present moment.
One eye creaks open, and the reality of the situation comes flooding back all at once. He smiles sleepily from beneath tousled hair, easing his hold on her waist just a touch without releasing her fully.]
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sunfloras2024-01-21 09:17 pm
we'll find a way to offer up tonight
As it turned out, he wasn't quite able to bring himself as far outside of his comfort zone as he might have liked, but the piano bar he'd settled on was more than suitable enough, the ambiance reasonably sedate compared to some of the rowdier options nearby, and the bartender made a good enough old-fashioned that he was now on his second, nearing the bottom of his glass and contemplating a third.
He sat alone at the bar with an open portfolio in front of him, half-completed notes regarding a grant proposal sitting at the top, but it was turning out to be impossible to focus on anything regarding work. Normally, he didn't have that sort of trouble— he could work anywhere, under most any circumstances, but the email he had received just before his department meeting that morning meant he found it impossible to focus on just about anything at the moment.
Waterdeep University would like to welcome our newly-appointed Dean of our College of Physical Sciences, Dr. Ariel—
He pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing heavily and closing the leather portfolio, writing off his efforts for the evening. There was still a good week before he had to worry about seeing her in a meeting, but it was clear enough he wasn't going to be getting anything done tonight— except, perhaps, another drink.
Emptying the rest of his glass at once, he sets it back down heavily with a single fluid motion, raising a hand to give the barkeep a two-fingered wave and a weary smile once he catches her attention.]
Another, please, when you have a moment.
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Everyone except, one.
While the new guests are eager to clamor around acclaimed ceramics and jewelry-maker, Jacqueline Berna Oakes, she occupies herself with the sullen woman by her side.]
"Honey, you're still sulking?"
Berna, I'm not—
"You better not be. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were preoccupied with your melancholy instead of being happy for my show's success."
[Amelia Eva Steinbeck, soon to be Professor of Literature in a week, crosses and then uncrosses her arms, sighing. Berna meant well; they had been friends for years and she was always quick to catch on whenever Amelia's mind was elsewhere. It defeated the point of tonight's excursion, which was to revel in a night of art and conversation with friends both old and new. This is her last week to enjoy the last of her free time before she becomes embroiled in the world of academia and she is dressed for the part; her vivid red hair is swept back into a loose bun and she is dressed in a black leather jacket over a floral sundress and Doc Martens. There's no way to mistake her for anything else, but a young and frivolous woman enjoying a fairly hedonistic evening amongst fellow bohemians.
But that was the problem; to Amelia, this was all for Berna, not for her. She was the one who magnetized people and she was just along for the ride. Not oblivious to this, Berna's eyes soften.]
"Thank you for making it out anyway. I know you'd rather curl up with a book and your own bottle to nurse, but you came out to see me and my work anyway."
[Berna hugs Amelia and the latter returns it reluctantly.]
"How about this? You're getting free drinks anyway so you can find your own corner and enjoy yourself. I won't introduce you to anyone and force small talk. Promise."
[This mollifies Amelia and with that, Berna smiles, pats her on the shoulder, and turns to release herself back into the wild with her admirers, leaving the redhead alone. At some point, she gets a drink. Now finding a seat was proving to be difficult. The only spot left was...]
... Pardon me.
[There was the guest, the one before their group arrived, who sat by himself. His side profile was unassuming and non-threatening. So she takes a chance.]
Is there room for one more?
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He takes a moment to check his messages, briefly: two texts from Tara, which he immediately decides he'll return later, knowing precisely what she'll be wanting to talk to him about. He would much rather get his mind off that subject at the moment, and he looks up to offer the barkeep another warm, grateful smile as she sets his drink in front of him, offering a nod of thanks. He's prepared to take his first sip and busy himself with finding something on his phone to serve as a distraction when an unfamiliar voice beside him draws him out of himself.
He looks only mildly surprised when he looks up at its owner; he hadn't expected anyone to care to approach him tonight, assuming his dour mood must have shown as much on the outside as it weighed upon him within, but without a second thought, he finds himself nodding, setting his phone down so that he might use his free hand to gesture to the seat beside him.]
Of course— please, by all means.
[His gaze lingers a moment later than he means for it to, and he's certain it's because of the whiskey doing its work, but even though he had come here for a change of scene and to drown his sorrows, he cannot help but notice that the young woman before him is strikingly lovely.
She must only be speaking to him because the stool beside his is the only one left. Women like her did not approach sweater-wearing, self-pitying astrophysicists in bars like these.]
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i'm sorry, did you think i would be chill
The problem was that he hadn't stopped thinking about her since then. For all his best efforts to throw himself into preparing for the new semester, he found his thoughts constantly wandering back to her, unable to ignore the fact that if they had met any other way, at some other time— things might have been very, very different. The Gale Dekarios of some years prior would have gone out of his way to woo such a woman, before his confidence had been ripped from him, before he'd found himself brokenhearted and hollowed out, wondering if anything he'd ever believed about himself had ever been true.
The Gale of the present did not know what he possibly had to offer, but his thoughts continually turned towards her— to the point of distraction.
Finally, on a Tuesday afternoon, he decides that messaging her is a risk worth taking.]
I know we said our goodbyes the other night, but I was wondering if I might perhaps buy you a cup of coffee sometime? You've been on my mind.
Gale of Calmdowndeep
Amelia Eva Steinbeck was very productive and the small accomplishments bolstered her mood. Her mind may have wandered back to that night every now and then, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.
The uplifted mood does get befuddled as she sits at the kitchen counter eating some pasta and the text notif pops up on her phone screen. She swiftly remembers that the no name number was recently added and she hadn't labeled it yet. It could only have come from one person.
It is a good hour and a half before she settles on a reply.]
"Sometime" is a vague indicator of when, much less where and thus I have less inclination to agree to the offer.
[No comment on how she's been on his mind. She wouldn't know how to even acknowledge that face-to-face, much less over text.]
he simply cannot
Notably, his response comes much sooner than hers had, though there's still a good fifteen minutes between messages. He doesn't want to come off as too horribly desperate.]
I thought I'd test the waters and see if you were at all interested, first. I recall you mentioning a new job, so out of respect for your schedule, the 'when' would be up to you, but I do know an excellent coffee shop in the Castle Ward that's remarkably close to a vintage bookseller.
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it's never quite as it seems
At this very moment, Dr. Ariel Manx was three rows away, seated near the front of the room with her shoulders squared and her attention fixed on the provost as he spoke to all those assembled about the coming semester— she looked immaculate, as ever, closed-off and unflinching. He didn't know if she had seen him yet, but he could only assume she had. Whether or not she cared was another matter entirely, but he wouldn't have minded the opportunity to avoid an actual conversation with her for a little longer.
Thankfully, coffee with Tara had helped him to steel himself for the day to come as best he could. He might have needed a bit of coaxing to get moving in a timely manner that morning, having been a scattered mess of nerves, but Tara had, as always, pushed him to pull himself together, and now sat beside him having just recently returned to their chosen seats with coffee and two of the donuts that had kindly been provided.
The lecture hall the meeting was being held in was far more populated than usual; the appointment of a new dean wasn't the only change that would be seen at Waterdeep University's College of Physical Sciences this semester. With the literature building being renovated, Blackstaff Hall would be opening its doors to their colleagues and sharing space with their department. There were some low rumblings throughout the crowd; Gale knew that a number of people were unhappy about distribution of funds among various programs and had imagined some sort of rivalry between them, but he himself had little opinion on it— so long as he was still able to do his job properly, it didn't matter much in the end. He couldn't imagine anything that could rattle him more than Ariel's appointment as his new boss, regardless, and stress regarding that matter had used up just about every ounce of energy he had to spare between preparing for classes, so much so that even his occasional text exchanges with Eva no longer served as an adequate distraction.
Forcibly, he directs his gaze at the provost and refuses to let it wander in Ariel's direction again, taking an emphatic bite of his donut as he realigned his focus and caught up with the current topic at hand. He'd been more distracted than he cared to admit, though Tara had called him on it repeatedly in the last week— kindly, for the most part. She was sympathetic to his current situation, of course, but both of their concerns regarding the change to their program went well beyond the awkwardness of his having to regularly cross paths and work alongside his ex.
"Before we go any further, we have a few new additions to our staff in both departments this semester, and so introductions are in order."
Gale shifts in his seat as he reaches for his coffee, once again forcing himself to listen, inwardly scolding himself for continually being distracted by his own thoughts. He might not have been his best self at the moment, but it was a matter of days before the start of the semester. He had to pull himself together, and missing out on whatever information the provost had to offer seemed like a poor start if that's what he intended to do.
"First, joining us in our literature department is Professor Amelia Steinbeck— if you would join me for a moment, Professor Steinbeck?"]
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The new professor had woken up that morning with an unfamiliar sense of unease. She couldn’t put her finger on the cause of the feeling. The week leading up to the new semester shouldn’t have been for naught and it's not like the astrophyicist’s decreasing amount of texts bothered her. If anything, it was welcome as she was distracted with presenting herself at her new job instead of lingering in the pleasant platonic nature of their messages.
Professor Amelia Steinbeck’s immaculate preparations guaranteed her a successful introduction and induction into her new position. Berna had spent the last two days helping pick out her outfits that weren’t too drab, nor overly bold. Her friend even graciously woke up in the deader hours of the morning to help do hair and makeup because Amelia’s nerves were too frazzled to do it herself. The result was pleasing to the eye, but comfortable enough to traverse the grounds of her new occupation.
So why was it that the first steps out of Oren’s car and toward the esteemed Waterdeep University felt so ominously heavy? Clutching her golden rose pendant around her neck, Professor Steinbeck took a deep breath and headed inside.
It’s just nerves, she told herself. Everything else has been taken care of and there were no loose ends. Today wasn’t going to be the first day of lectures and instead, the interdepartmental meeting that would help her and the literature department settle in while they shared a space with Physical Science. It's a somewhat unfortunate, but small inconvenience.
She was fifteen minutes early to the meeting, opting to sit at the edge of one of the middle rows on her left, and occupy the remaining time by reading a new novel on her tablet. The room starts to fill up with various department educators, administrators, and the like. Next to her, two older men sat down, introducing themselves as professors from the Biology section (Professor Omeluum and Blurg; the former being tall, lanky, quiet, but polite, and the latter was a cheerful and stout kind of character).
While she exchanged pleasantries with them, there were several glances thrown her way. Among the Waterdeep University Staff, it was easy to tell who was new, especially in literature; several people in that department were tenured or already had a few years to be aware.
That and her hair is very red.
The meeting begins and the new professor turns her focus to the speaker and immediately switches out her reading app for her notetaking one, a digital pen ready to fly across the screen.
It’s why she was careless and utterly failed to notice who else was in the same room.]
"First, joining us in our literature department is Professor Amelia Steinbeck— if you would join me for a moment, Professor Steinbeck?"
[The tablet is slipped into her purse and she stands up, smoothing the front of her fawn-colored plaid slacks and black turtleneck. With no regard to the heads turning towards her, Professor Steinbeck strides confidently towards the front so that the administrator can properly introduce her.
When she finally turns to face the audience, a slight silvery gleam catches her eye, noticeable enough even with indoor lighting.
And for a split second, Amelia freezes.
Her hands are clasped together so tightly that her knuckles whiten.
Through her thick framed glasses, green eyes stare into the crowd trying to make sense of what she sees because if her mind isn’t playing tricks on her, she has deduced that she has irrevocacbly fucked up.]
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Wait a moment.
The woman called forth by the provost turns to face those assembled, and Gale feels his heart seize in his chest.
Professor Amelia Steinbeck, the provost had said. Amelia? No, this was undeniably her; they had known one another intimately enough that there was no mistaking it. He wouldn't be forgetting "Eva's" face anytime soon, something he had previously been glad for, a pleasant memory to hold onto.
Now, he wasn't so sure.
Time seems to have slowed down to a painful crawl, and not half a moment after he makes his realization, he accidentally inhales part of his donut and starts sputtering as he drops the other half, his eyes impossibly wide as he uses his forearm to cover his mouth while Tara frowns, furrows her brow and gives him a few thumps on the back to help him along.
There's enough low chatter and ambient noise throughout the lecture hall to begin with that he is, thankfully, not terribly disruptive, and the provost continues on without missing a beat.]
"Professor Steinbeck will be handling Classic Literature, with a focus in Folklore and Mythology. Would you like to say a few words, Professor?"
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cruel professor studying romances
The first week is, as expected, a whirlwind of emails, syllabuses, long lines at the university book store, students signing up for classes and dropping at the last minute. The freshman are wide-eyed and lost in the vast campus, unaccustomed to university life after their strict high school schedules. Many of the undergraduates quickly fill in the slots for classes that fulfill basic requirements and the literature department find their courses full to the brim.
It doesn't help that the department has to temporarily share their building with the sciences and it causes a misunderstanding or two among the student population. Even the most relaxed and experienced professors are finding it difficult to balance this new arrangement along with this heavier load of students, not to mention the ones who are there for the sciences who keep confusing their offices. Anyone would be harried and mentally taxed.
Not Professor Steinbeck.
There's not a peep of complaint from the new professor of Folklore and Mythology who just buckles down and attacks her work load regardless of the limitations they are subjected to. Her colleagues take note of her efficiency and immaculate professionalism despite being so new to the university and the students who sign up for her course quickly learn that Professor Steinbeck was not to be messed with.
"If you're already planning to ditch this course on day one, then I suggest you drop now so you don't have a failing grade on your record due to your intentional negligence."
Harsh, but as they soon realize after looking at her syllabus, also fair. Her class was clearly designed to set them up for success and by the end of the week, save for a few wise drops, Professor Steinbeck maintained the highest retention.
A new week begins. Amelia arrives early with a thermos of tea and some extra breakfast, courtesy of Berna who had warned her to not overdo it. But Amelia had been grateful for the busyness, seeing as how it helped her keep her mind off...
Well, Dr. Gale Dekarios. As she makes long strides down the hallway... Well, take a good guess at who she passes by.]
... Dr. Dekarios? Good morning.
[That is, in fact, the first time she's acknowledged him since the fateful meeting.]
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He'd had, vainly, every hope that he and the new dean of Blackstaff would be able to behave professionally and with all due courtesy, by and large allowing one another to go about their business. That hope had been dashed almost immediately; after that first meeting before the start of the semester, Dr. Manx had called him to her office to discuss a few last minute changes to his class schedule. Budget cuts and lack of appropriate staff were the reasoning that had been cited, and while they were valid enough, Gale couldn't help but feel that he had been assigned both Remedial Physics and Introduction to Astronomy as some sort of punishment, given the petty streak he knew her to have— despite the fact that he was certain that he was not the one responsible for any past wrongdoing.
In the end, it wasn't worth arguing. The classes were simple enough, material he could teach in his sleep, though they did keep his schedule fuller than he would like and compromised time spent with the research group of graduate students he was meant to direct— but he would find a way to balance it all. He always did, and if it kept him busy, then all the better. Less time to worry about what he might have to say next time he crossed Dr. Manx's path outside of a meeting, and less time to worry about the Eva situation.
It was hardly a situation, though, was it? Eva— or Amelia, he should call her, if he should call her anything at all after she'd made it clear she wished to proceed as though they had never so much as spoken before— Professor Steinbeck had been quite busy managing her own classload and finding her niche here at Waterdeep University, and seemed to be doing quite well despite having come in at such a chaotic time. Word had already spread about the firm stance she'd taken with her classes and her teaching approach, and for a moment, he'd almost allowed himself to feel proud of her ability to balance a strict stance with effectively setting her students up to prosper, only to remind himself that he was in no position to feel anything about what she did or did not do.
Whatever he might have thought for those few days before that fateful meeting, he was a stranger to her, and she had been quite plain in that she wished it to remain that way. He thought about it more than he'd liked, of course; he'd had to explain himself to Tara when he'd met her for dinner after that first day, and though he omitted a great deal of detail, she had gotten the picture well enough, offered her sympathies and encouraged him to let his work carry him forward— he was always happiest when he had a project.
'Happy,' unfortunately, felt very far away at this moment. Sleep had not been coming easily, and this morning found him both pale and weary-looking as he made his way towards the lounge in hopes of grabbing a second cup of coffee before he went about his day. The most recent issue of an astronomy journal had found its way onto his desk that morning with a note tacked on the front of it that simply read "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS??" without any further elaboration. It hadn't needed any— a few moments of leafing through the forward brought his attention to the feature article in question, one whose headline made his blood boil.
Coffee. Coffee would help him push past this enough to let him focus his attention where it ought to be, but he's so entirely out of sorts that he doesn't even see a certain red-headed professor until he hears his name, causing him to stop sharply in his tracks and collect himself with some middling degree of success.]
Oh, Ev— [No, no.] ... Professor Steinbeck. Good morning.
[He may as well have been on another planet, with how distant and surreal this moment felt, but even so, he felt his heart leap into his throat for a moment. He had hoped that a week and some change would have been enough to numb him to the still-vivid memory of her, to make her less strikingly lovely to him.
Unfortunately, it had not.]
I— hope you've been settling in well?
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["Both of you are at fault and the both of you are each other's problems."
Such was Berna's assessments as she prepared a comical amount of breakfast sandwiches to freeze and split with Amelia. The literature professor had reluctantly told her roommate and best friend about Dr. Dekarios of course, without delving into too much detail of their coincidental night after she ditched the afterparty. Berna looked thoughtful, but did not coax any other information out of Amelia.
"He sounds like the sensitive sort and surprisingly discreet. I'll say this now because you're absolutely terrible at reading people when you want nothing to do with them, but you can't pretend he doesn't exist.
You're colleagues now. At least act like that."
Professor Steinbeck balks at the memory and at the artist being right. So she gives it a try and after a cursory once over of the astrophysicist, remarks:]
You look quite dead.
[There's a beat. A small sideways as if she's realized she's said something wrong. Let's try again.]
I apologize, that was unwarranted. I want to say that you've probably seen better days.
[Better, but by how much... She starts rummaging in her large tote bag that's gotten bigger throughout the week.]
Have you had anything to drink yet? Breakfast?
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in the aisle of our thoughts
Before she knew it, midterms began to creak its ugly head around. Though she had designed her study guide to be done independently, Amelia had spent more time than she had wanted answering student emails and then there were even more students who had clearly skipped half of their classes and messaged her about wanting to catch up as if their online course room wasn't just right there.
Instead of having her office hours in 305, she settled down in a spot at the library for students to visit her there instead. There were less than she expected, but the conversations were longer than she hoped. It was well into the late afternoon when the last meeting with a student ended.
And for the first time since she began this job, Professor Steinbeck felt a wave of exhaustion come over her and she laid her head down atop of next semester's book. Her eyes feigned reading the words, but the heaviness in her eyelids did not allow her to process anything.
So for the next ten minutes, she lies there, eyes closed, and not a care in the world.]
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Let it never be said that he did not take his job and his potential impact on his students quite seriously.
Time passing quickly also meant that the initial awkwardness of his unexpected reunion with Professor Steinbeck had begun to lose some of its sting. To say that they had become friendly would have been stretching it, but they had developed a sort of rapport of their own since that brief meeting in the hallway— it had been short, but more had come to follow, and while most of them were much the same, he appreciated that she had taken an interest in his well-being, even if he was mildly embarrassed that he seemed to be doing poorly enough that more than one sandwich or meal had been thrust unceremoniously into his hands. In turn, he often returned the favor by passing a cup of coffee her way; there were enough days where their paths crossed that he was certain, at least, of when he would see her, and on at least two more occasions, she would arrive to room 305 in the early morning to find coffee and a scone waiting for her, though he otherwise limited their brief encounters to their corridor crossings.
It was not quite friendship, but he found himself looking forward to those fleeting moments, ephemeral and business-like as they were.
It was not unusual for him to visit the library in the late afternoon, today with the interest in gathering supplements for the next meeting of his graduate group, but as he makes his way towards the stairs to the second floor, that familiar and vibrant red catches his eye in passing, giving him pause. To see a professor of literature here was only natural, of course, but was she...?
He glances at his surroundings only to see that no one seems to be paying him any mind before he approaches, his footfalls silenced by the library's gray carpeting, and he quietly clears his throat to announce himself, only to find that she does, in fact, appear to be quite asleep— with her glasses dangerously askew and in danger of being bent.
He doesn't think he's seen her this relaxed in the entirety of their acquaintance. It seems a shame to wake her, but given that he often wears spectacles himself, the thought of what might become of them if he does not is enough to stir him to act.
He drops down so that he's almost at eye-level with her (and the surface of the table), clearing his throat again softly.]
Ah, Professor Steinbeck?
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What did he say? She wants to remember.]
"Ah, Professor Steinbeck?"
[Her eyes flutter open (looking very like that morning) half-lidded and sleepy. When met with the pair of brown eyes at her level...]
...
...
[She automatically takes a paperback book and pushes it against Dr. Dekarios's forehead with an incoherent grumble.]
Mrghbl.
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sounds like sweet talk
To outside onlookers it didn't look unusual at all. Quite the opposite. It was Professor Lens who noticed how Dr. Dekarios would leave a thermos of coffee for Professor Steinbeck and she even saw the latter exchange sandwiches with the astrophysicist. When asked about it, Professor Steinbeck replied (while being very careful, Lens noted) that they've started to become acquaintances. Apart from that they were too busy in their respective fields to be seen together too often so any speculation stopped short.
They did start having lunch together— with other colleagues present. Professor Blurg and Omeluum joined them one time, the former being very happy that youngsters would entertain their time with them (and Omeluum may or may not have given Dr. Dekarios a knowing glance once Amelia left for a meeting). One morning, Amelia even found herself tagging along to a breakfast at a diner with Dr. Dekarios and Dr. Prescott. It felt jarring at first to interact with the severe looking woman who was aware of their... "Situationship." Or whatever the kids said these days (her young hired help, Lien Kha said so anyway, but Amelia learned to not take the mischievous young woman at her word).
Dr. Prescott proved to be very pleasant company and Amelia found herself endeared to her if only because they shared some surface-level personality traits. When asked if they could all have breakfast together again, Amelia agreed readily.
Outside of their jobs, they exchanged texts with steady frequency. More than expected, but not too much to be overbearing on either end. She found herself reaching for her phone automatically the moment she saw a notification and smiled when Gale showed her a bookstore she had yet to visit or something he baked that he would inevitably share with her the next day. Sometimes they would meet outside and in-person too. Quick visits to new coffee shops, a quick browse of that aforementioned bookstore, but nothing too long or lingering and never after dark. They both had their academic obligations to fulfill after all.
But life felt fuller. Each morning it wasn't just work that occupied her mind, but anticipation for the smaller things that made getting up in the morning worth it.
The pleasantries and contentedness that had only just started to settle has only made way to her current new headache.
One morning and a week after midterms, a text notif is sent to Gale.]
Apologies, but we'll need to move lunch to another date. I have a situation.
[She didn't mean to make it sound so dire, but the intensity and stress beneath her text can be felt.]
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More than once, she made remarks to Gale in private about whether or not it might become something more, but he politely refuted the suggestion each and every time, insisting upon the fact that he and Amelia had both decided this was a far better course for them to tread. Most days, he even believed it. Even with the additional stress that had been heaped upon him this semester, life felt brighter than it had in a long, long while.
He's in his office between classes when Amelia's message comes, and his brows knit together slightly as he reads it. Postponements or rescheduling weren't terribly alarming, but there was something about the way she phrased it that struck him as being odd, implied that things were not as they ought to be.]
Of course, no apologies necessary. Are you alright? 'Situation' sounds troublesome.
[To say the least.]
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momento mori
[Professor Steinbeck swerves her chair around to look up at the young man who has entered her's and Professor Len's office. A week or two has passed since the plagiarism debacle (long story short, the student dropped her class and withdrew from the university to transfer to a different institution; thanks Dr. Raphael) and the literature professor has regained her usual rhythm. She's been preparing for finals and making the framework for the students' final projects before Dr. Dekarios' student walked in, greeting her cautiously.
Rolan shuffles his feet and then clears his throat, nodding.]
"Er, yes. I guess Professor Lens or Dr. Dekarios has told you about me?"
Mm. Yes. Believe it or not, the latter has spoken of you highly.
[Amelia rests one arm on her desk, keeping her eyes on Rolan.]
You also seem to pass by this office a lot to say hello to Lens. Former student of hers?
"Well, yes. I took her course for fun, but that's not only..."
[He catches himself and coughs into his fist. And if Professor Steinbeck was observant, there is some color in his cheeks.]
"Never mind. I actually have something for you."
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It isn't unusual for Gale to find that Amelia isn't alone in her office— Professor Lens has been there more than once when he's stopped by, or a visiting student, but the student he finds there when he reaches the open door takes him quite by surprise.]
Rolan! This is unexpected.
[He pauses to give a sheepish smile as he takes a step back.]
Apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt. I didn't think it was quite your office hours yet, Professor.
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and so it follows...
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i resolved to call her up, a thousand times a day
He hadn't been so inebriated as to not realize what it was he had sent, but he finds himself second-guessing his actions even before he's managed coffee. He wills himself not to panic, taking the length of shower and breakfast to gain perspective, but find himself watching his phone anxiously nonetheless.
"We'll talk tomorrow— I promise."
Given the way they'd parted, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for him to reach out and make good on his word, and yet the fact that she hasn't responded to his text message yet leaves him feeling hollow, uneasy, the thought of calling her conjuring up the feeling of nervous butterflies that makes him feel about sixteen again.
Of course she hadn't responded yet, he reasons— given the state she'd been in, she was likely sleeping, or ought to have been, and he reminds himself that she's likely to be feeling a bit poorly after the night before. That reminder grants him enough ease to wait until he's had a second cup of coffee and played a few rounds of chess online with Tara before he can't put it off any longer, the anxiety and anticipation both needling at him relentlessly.
He has to talk to her.
Exhaling steadily, he picks up his phone for what must be the thousandth time that morning, and just before noon, he calls.]
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Amelia chugs down the green juice in one go. Thank god it's a Sunday.
As she sluggishly prepares her hangover meal, she checks her phone for emails and missed messages. She sees Gale had left her one last night and before she can read it, her noodles are ready and she assembles her dish before bringing it over to the couch and wrapping herself up in the throw blanket.
Yesterday's occurrences are a lot to think about. So many emotions, so many words, and there's a chance something has changed. What is it exactly?
Hell if she can think of it right now, her head hurts.
It's just before noon after Amelia takes a few slurps of her noodles when her phone rings. If she hadn't seen Gale's caller ID, she might have seriously considered hanging up. Instead...]
Good morning.
[Pause.]
Good high noon.
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through the storm we reach the shore
After that, he gives her space. It's strange, to go even a day without some kind of exchange between them; he feels her absence keenly and continually traces his steps and recounts his words and actions to himself, analyzing his mistakes from every possible angle. When finals come a few days later, they're a welcome distraction, and almost keep him busy enough to keep his mind occupied. She still slips in, of course, especially if he'd caught a glimpse of her in the corridor, but he doesn't have anywhere near the amount of time to torment himself as he would otherwise.
It's not often that he spares Tara the details of his life, but she asks him where Professor Steinbeck has gotten to, he keeps things brief— she had already known about how he felt, but he keeps Amelia's history and the various contributing factors of their disagreement to himself. Some of it is not his to tell.
After finals, there's but the space of three days before he and Tara are slated to head up the coast to Neverwinter for the conference. Tara had taken it upon herself to take over the planning while Gale contends with wrapping up the semester for his heavy courseload; she makes arrangements for a place to stay just south of the city, with an extra day or two on either side so that they can both take advantage of a long weekend away from Waterdeep. Though the conference was meant to be the highlight of Gale's year, he finds that he isn't looking forward to it the way he had been, and even reworking his presentation is not enough to distract him entirely.
Things start to come apart the day before they're meant to leave. Tara has a sudden family matter that she can't ignore, but encourages Gale to drive up without her regardless, promising that she'll follow the next day and that their trip can then proceed as planned. Gale is resistant at first, insisting he doesn't mind waiting a day, but Tara is more stubborn still, and manages to use a tone of voice that Gale has never once dared to disagree with.
In the end, he drives those two hours up the coast on his own. As a result, his Friday evening is a bit quieter than planned, but the truth is that neither he nor Tara would have opted for anything much livelier had they gone forth with their original plans. The airbnb that Tara had booked is as charming as it was hospitable, and he settles in easily enough, taking time to become acquainted with the kitchen as he puts groceries away.
Eventually, he finds a place to make himself comfortable in the sitting room with a book and a cup of tea, though he feels as though he's simply turning pages. It's rare that he isn't able to focus on something like reading, but even now, with nearly two weeks having passed since he'd given Amelia cause to storm out of her own kitchen, he cannot stop thinking about what he wishes he had done differently— how things ought to have been, instead.
Perhaps he was destined to never get this sort of thing right.]
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Sleep didn't come easily, but it didn't stop her from preparing for the work week, leaving the house as early as 5 AM, and having one of the custodians, a very confused Minsc, open up the building for her at 6 AM. It's was easy o just settle in at her desk, turn on her computer, and get to work, finishing grades, answering and scheduling emails, reviewing lesson plans for next semester, and checking her calendar for future workshops and events she planned to attend.
There was a pause as the date for Gale's conference shows up after finals on her digital calendar. She had carefully planned for that day off by adding in personal outings to a cafe and maybe a movie before making it out there to see him.
The click felt heavy as she cleared that day and the blank time slots stared at her blankly and accusingly.
Amelia is frustratingly good at going on as is, as if she's never been acquainted with Gale Dekarios at all. Professor Lens furrowed her brow in concern when Professor Steinbeck redirects her inquiries about having lunch with Dr. Dekarios. When having lunch, Omeluum and Blurg didn't ask at all, sensing the chilliness in her demeanor that had replaced her calm and hidden warmth.
Everyone was wrapping up their class projects and whipping up their students into shape for finals anyways. The end of the semester was a good excuse as any, to overlook her personal problems.
Finals come and go and Amelia's very full schedule was no more, save for non-time sensitive errands here and there. For once, Berna did not try to drag her to another vacation destination, much to her surprise. When asked, the artist simply said that she and Oren decided to spend quality time with one another and that Amelia obviously wanted to be alone.
Sometimes, Amelia really hates how biting Berna's under-the-surface criticisms were.
Even her plans to stay in Neverwinter, sans conference attendance, were interrupted. That wasn't too unexpected; she had told her parents to open up bookings again and they let her know someone had filled up a spot right away. Still, a change of scenery would have been nice. She already cleaned every corner of Berna's house until her fingertips felt raw.
So here she was with time and space. Alone. No one to fill up the void, no one who could make her feel anxious and uncertain, no second-guessing and no looking like a fool who was wrapped up in her own self when with someone else.
Unexpectedly, her phone rings and it's her father, Frank Steinbeck, with an apologetic request to drive to the Airbnb in Neverwinter to fix some of the appliances.
"Sorry, Button. Our usual people are on holiday and we don't want to interrupt their family time. You're know the house and are handy enough."
The upcoming weather conditions were concerning, so he urged Amelia to pack lightly to stay overnight and just explain to the guest the circumstances. With nothing better to do, she fills up her travel backpack, the rest of her necessities and heads out. Dark gray clouds have already filled the sky by the time she parks, walks up to the door, and rings the doorbell.]
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these inconvenient fireworks
Life was a tragic comedy, for Professor Amelia Steinbeck.
Such are the initial thoughts that slam into Amelia as she slowly stirs from sleep. Her body, though heavy, tingles pleasantly throughout much to her embarrassment. After letting another few minutes pass, her stomach flutters, not from regret, much to her relief, but from nervousness. The weight of the man whom she couldn't deny any longer is next to her and she has no idea what time it is and what they'll do next now that pale morning light shines through the window of the bedroom.
Her recklessness, rarely rewarded her. There was a fine line between it and the stubbornness that allowed her to endure career obstacles and challenges. When it came to relationships, it was, frankly speaking, a storm of questionable choices and the consequences would arrive like a car crash.
Which is why she almost moves to leave the bed, but someone's pair of arms is around her, as is their chest against her back, the hairs tickling the surface of her skin.]
Um. Gale?
[She whispers, unsure if her new... Someone... Is awake yet.]
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He's already on the very edge of waking when Amelia's voice breaks the morning stillness, small and cautious though it is as she whispers, and he lets out a quiet groan as he fights against the morning light without realizing, his eyes screwing shut just a bit tighter as he ducks his chin and brings his forehead to rest against the top of her head.]
There's no... class today...
[His words are heavy with sleep, slurred; he's not quite lucid yet, but her stirring does help to bring him closer to embracing the present moment.
One eye creaks open, and the reality of the situation comes flooding back all at once. He smiles sleepily from beneath tousled hair, easing his hold on her waist just a touch without releasing her fully.]
... good morning.
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