hurinhouse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hurinhouse) wrote2012-08-28 12:23 am
hurinhouse) wrote2012-08-28 12:23 am
Entry tags:
Busted
Title: Busted
Fandom: White Collar
Author: hurinhouse
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
Rating: G
Characters: OMC, Ellen, Danny (Neal)
Summary: Danny will learn what he can, any way he can.
633 words
The lines are fluid and sweeping. As he traces his finger over the cheap student grade paper he can imagine Seurat himself preparing a canvas for these stage dancers and their musicians. He manages a glance at the young man through the glass - nervous knee bouncing as he sprawls in the lobby chair, out of earshot, awaiting his fate. He'd like to claim teaching the young artist a lesson, but he's not the one the kid's uneasy blue eyes flicker to.
"Professor? Is there a problem?"
He shakes out of his stupor and shifts his attention to the brusque woman opposite his desk. "Sorry, no." He takes a breath, "While I certainly cannot condone what's happened here, I wonder if you might consider allowing him to take the final next week, just to see how he'd place."
He'd been amazed by the kid's ability to absorb. Admittedly, Dan had seemed unusually enthusiastic, less jaded than the other students, but his knowledge of post-impressionists had multiplied over the semester and his skill among those apparently three and four years older… Well, he'd had no real reason to suspect him of lying about his age.
"I will not allow it and I'm surprised you would suggest it. What would be the difference between this and letting a thief keep his goods after he's thrown in jail?"
He nods, ashamed. It'd been so long since he'd had a student like this, since he'd seen the sheer joy and appreciation of the masters in another's eyes. But, "There's not much difference in what you're asking me to hand over either, Ms. Parker."
She holds her head high. "You're right. And I'll understand if you don't."
He shouldn't be doing this. He could lose his tenure with the rules, laws, he's breaking. When the woman in front of him charged into the art room two hours ago Dan's face turned white and he dropped his charcoals, the breaking smack against the linoleum announcing her presence to those who hadn't seen her silently storm in. She'd stared at the boy for all of three seconds before turning her daggers toward the desk at the front of the room, Dan trailing regretfully in her wake. He remembers being grateful for her volume control when she'd demanded to know how a fifteen year old came to be in a college art course instead of tenth grade biology.
He hands over the extensive portfolio of class work: studies of Gauguin, Rousseau, Cezanne, and original techniques the kid had played with.
"And the forms?"
He looks one last time at the file he'd just quietly requested from Terry in Administration, who no longer owes him a favor. The work on the high school transcript is good, the birth certificate copy even more impressive. Granted, Admissions had gone through dozens of these each day of registration and they wouldn't have been looking for fakes, but it looks legit to him even now, knowing the truth.
He closes the file and gives it to Ms. Parker. "I hope you get him straightened out. He's got a great future ahead of him."
"He did have. The jury's out now. Thank you, Professor."
She sweeps out through the lobby, barely looking at the kid before passing into the hall. Dan jumps up, tilts his dark head through the door, the shame and fear on his face warring with the almost visible gears circling inside his head. "I'm sorry for lying, but… thanks. For everything." He beams out a breezy lopsided smile and rushes out the door to catch up.
He's sure she'll burn Dan's work, to punish him, to protect him, and even though he knows Dan will get torn a new one once they're out of the building, he can see the kid's in good hands.
Fandom: White Collar
Author: hurinhouse
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
Rating: G
Characters: OMC, Ellen, Danny (Neal)
Summary: Danny will learn what he can, any way he can.
633 words
The lines are fluid and sweeping. As he traces his finger over the cheap student grade paper he can imagine Seurat himself preparing a canvas for these stage dancers and their musicians. He manages a glance at the young man through the glass - nervous knee bouncing as he sprawls in the lobby chair, out of earshot, awaiting his fate. He'd like to claim teaching the young artist a lesson, but he's not the one the kid's uneasy blue eyes flicker to.
"Professor? Is there a problem?"
He shakes out of his stupor and shifts his attention to the brusque woman opposite his desk. "Sorry, no." He takes a breath, "While I certainly cannot condone what's happened here, I wonder if you might consider allowing him to take the final next week, just to see how he'd place."
He'd been amazed by the kid's ability to absorb. Admittedly, Dan had seemed unusually enthusiastic, less jaded than the other students, but his knowledge of post-impressionists had multiplied over the semester and his skill among those apparently three and four years older… Well, he'd had no real reason to suspect him of lying about his age.
"I will not allow it and I'm surprised you would suggest it. What would be the difference between this and letting a thief keep his goods after he's thrown in jail?"
He nods, ashamed. It'd been so long since he'd had a student like this, since he'd seen the sheer joy and appreciation of the masters in another's eyes. But, "There's not much difference in what you're asking me to hand over either, Ms. Parker."
She holds her head high. "You're right. And I'll understand if you don't."
He shouldn't be doing this. He could lose his tenure with the rules, laws, he's breaking. When the woman in front of him charged into the art room two hours ago Dan's face turned white and he dropped his charcoals, the breaking smack against the linoleum announcing her presence to those who hadn't seen her silently storm in. She'd stared at the boy for all of three seconds before turning her daggers toward the desk at the front of the room, Dan trailing regretfully in her wake. He remembers being grateful for her volume control when she'd demanded to know how a fifteen year old came to be in a college art course instead of tenth grade biology.
He hands over the extensive portfolio of class work: studies of Gauguin, Rousseau, Cezanne, and original techniques the kid had played with.
"And the forms?"
He looks one last time at the file he'd just quietly requested from Terry in Administration, who no longer owes him a favor. The work on the high school transcript is good, the birth certificate copy even more impressive. Granted, Admissions had gone through dozens of these each day of registration and they wouldn't have been looking for fakes, but it looks legit to him even now, knowing the truth.
He closes the file and gives it to Ms. Parker. "I hope you get him straightened out. He's got a great future ahead of him."
"He did have. The jury's out now. Thank you, Professor."
She sweeps out through the lobby, barely looking at the kid before passing into the hall. Dan jumps up, tilts his dark head through the door, the shame and fear on his face warring with the almost visible gears circling inside his head. "I'm sorry for lying, but… thanks. For everything." He beams out a breezy lopsided smile and rushes out the door to catch up.
He's sure she'll burn Dan's work, to punish him, to protect him, and even though he knows Dan will get torn a new one once they're out of the building, he can see the kid's in good hands.