Classes Are A Bore

At twenty four years old most individuals have already graduated college. They did their time in university and have moved on to better pastures. No longer were they subject to classes, exams, essays, and all the monotonous labos of education. They were free to live their lives, get ‘real’ jobs and pursue their careers. If the thousands of dollars in debt did not hold them back of course. It was at this point in life that most individuals were just starting their taste of ‘the real world’ that college and any other schooling beforehand had prepared them for.

This was not the case for a certain son of Nike. No, not Victoria, this twenty four year old was a demi-god of Greek descent. Something that not too long ago would have been a strange sight to see in New Rome, but had been much more common in recent years. Especially here at the campus of New Rome’s finest collegiate institute. Darren Cross was not your average anything. He had no actual formal education, no birth certificate, and no known living relatives (not on the godly side). That made getting accepted into college, even the one here in New Rome, a fairly hard task. It took a lot of encouragement (and by that we mean ribbing and accusations) from Tiberia before he was able to get his G.E.D. and then apply to and get accepted into the college.

So, to say he was already a bit behind was an understatement. Most, if not all of this material was new to him, he could barely read (he only learned how to read when he was almost nineteen) and the whole dyslexia thing did not make anything easier. Thankfully the professors were aware of this, and over the last couple of years Darren had calmed down a little bit. Not a lot, he was still the same hyperactive fool he’d always been, but he was more mature now, had a bit more stability in his life. Stability that came in the form of a certain descendant of Neptune. Stability that did not care how long it took him to finish an essay or single homework problem, but made sure that he got it done on time. Stability that without he would have either dropped out or been flunked out by now.

Needless to say, Darren Cross owed a lot of his current school successes to one Tiberia Flavia Scipia. Success that included Graduation in one years time. IF all went well with his last two semesters. Which, they absolutely would, if he wasn’t currently skipping a class. In his defense it was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, people were off on the grounds playing kan-jam, volleyball, and other college campus ‘sports’. This of course led to our now shirt wearing Australian (because apparently it was considered ‘unacceptable’ to not wear them during class) resting only a bit away from the Spikeball players, with his hands on his once again shirtless stomach, head laid down on his book bag listening to the comforting sounds of competition and tweeting birds.

In his mind, this day was perfect. He was sure there was something he was supposed to be doing, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. Plus, he was too relaxed to care. Something that didn’t usually happen for our resident child of Nike unless they were running or sword fighting. It was a strange sensation for him and he had no intention of ever letting it go, which is possibly why the fates decided to defy him at that very moment. His nice sun tan was interrupted by a shadow covering him. Eyes still closed he huffed out a breath, opening his mouth to speak to the person that was blocking out the sun. “Heeeey, not sure what the big idea is but I’d appreciate it if you like moved to the right or left a little bit. You are very much in the way of the sun that I was enjoying.” Motormouth he still very much was.

"You're pulling a Diogenes on me? Seriously?" Tiberia said.

She was just coming back from a morning of tutorials, a satchel slung over her shoulder. The sun was shining over the roofs of New Rome, casting the gilded domes and palaces in a golden glow. She had about two hours before her next class and she was currently torn between going to the library and jumping into the lake. What a dilemma. The Gallic Wars, Roman Law, or a refreshing swim? The more she thought about it, the less the first options appealed to her. This time of year, the library was sweltering with heat. If she wanted to sweat that badly she'd just go hit up a child of Mars for a workout. Not to mention it was exam season, which meant the freshers would be crowding the available study spots. Excuses, she chided herself. She had to get on top of her workload.

Just like Darren, Tiberia had changed too over the past years. Her hair was short, neatly combed back to show the carvings in her sidecuts. She was stronger, taller, tanner, and carried herself with more confidence. The years in the Legion had transformed the already toned adolescent she was into an athlete who could bench press double her bodyweight. She had captained a few teams during her first years of undergrad - triathlon, winter sports - but now that she was approaching graduation, she just didn't have the time to be on committees anymore. Or to attend training regularly.
Which had also freed up time to torment help Darren attend class. The son of Nike was the bane of her academic existence. In all the years she'd known him, he hadn't stopped being as exasperating as a 7 year old. If someone had told her, back when they had met, that that guy would make it into college and stick with it, she would've laughed.
And yet, here he was now.
A few months away from graduation.

"You look way too relaxed to be innocent," she frowned, peering at him through her sunglasses. "Let me guess, you're skipping class?"

The response he received was not what he expected, nor was it from someone he expected. Darren had hoped the person currently blocking out the sun would have apologized and moved to the side enough to allow him to once more bask in its presence. He was not prepared for the voice of his sun blocker to be that of Tiberia. He could feel the frown on her face and disappointment in her voice even with his eyes still closed. Mind racing a mile a second as he attempted to come up with some feasible excuse. Something she’d be more akin to believe. Something that wasn’t the truth. The truth that he simply forgot, that when he laid down however long ago it was now, he had absolutely intended on getting back up in time to go to class.

The only problem with that thought process was he had no way of telling time and he at least partially knew that when he laid down. Not that he was going to admit that. No, no, the correct greeting in this situation would be ‘Hey Darren, how are you doing on this wonderfully sunny day?’ to which I would then respond ‘Hey yourself, I am doing great. Was just enjoying the sun and relaxing my cares away for a bit. What about you?’ Not jumping to immediate conclusions that because I am relaxed I must be skipping class.” Was he skipping class? Absolutely. Probably. Again he didn’t have a watch and thus wasn’t sure what time it was. His stomach grumbling indicated that he probably did indeed skip at least one class.

“But to answer your question my dear old friend. I actually have no idea. If I were to say that I didn’t know what time it was and thus could have unintentionally skipped a class would that make you any less mad at me?” Even if he knew realistically what the answer to that question was he could at least pretend that she’d be less mad at him. Also, did she change her hair up? It looked really good with the whole carvings in her sidecuts thing she had going on. “And did you change your hairstyle? It looks great, fantastic even.” No they were not dating. Why would you even ask that? Also, nice save Darren. Totally going to get her off topic and away from him having skipped a class. So smart.

Tiberia sighed loudly. "So you are skiving off class. What a surprise." Of course, he was trying to deny it and wriggle out of it any way he could. Classic. But as he knew, Tiberia was like a Roman McGonagall. She had no patience for bullsh!t. "And don't change the subject," she frowned as he complimented her haircut. (The comment had felt nice though. Especially since her mother was mad at her for cutting off her long curls. But she had gotten so tired of braiding them constantly - braiding, untangling, tying this way, that way, again and again every day. Braiding, untangling. Who even had the time? One day she had just taken a pair of scissors and cut it all off. Comfort and practicality were more important than aesthetics.)
But she wasn't about to let Darren derail the conversation. At this point in their studies, missing more than three tutorials could result in a failed module. A failed module meant your entire average was pulled down, you might even have to re-do a year. Tiberia didn't know how many classes he had already skipped this semester but she was willing to wager he was close to the cut-off mark. Gods, getting him to be a responsible young adult was like herding cats.

"How about getting a watch? That way you wont unintentionally miss any more classes," she suggested, crossing her arms.

“Well no, see I wouldn’t say I was skiving off class. Mostly because I don’t know what that word means, buuut seeing as how you’re obviously upset I’m going to guess it is a very fancy way of saying skipping and even then it wasn’t intentional. I mean, come on Tibs have you felt how nice it feels today?” The boy blunder retorted to his very intimidating friend. Trying not to laugh at the way the word skiving sounded when it was said, or how it reminded him of skiing. While also trying not to shrink back upon the crossing of her very strong arms. There were few things more intimidating or scary than a pissed off Tiberia. Darren would know. He had fought or been to most of the scariest things and places in this world. Like that one time he accidentally wandered into Hades while looking for a taco truck. He was not very bright.

As for the watch well “I could totally get a watch though. I mean that makes a lot of sense, but then that involves something called money. Which you and I both know I have very little of.” One would think that having grown up on the streets Darren would be more conscious of how he earned, saved, and spent his money. But he also had a very zero understanding of money and economics in general until very recently (within the past four years recently). Before that he would give away whatever shiny coins the person wanted, if he even bothered to pay for whatever it was he was gettin/doing. Mostly though he would either ‘steal’ the thing he wanted or simply walk in and act like he was supposed to be there if the place was a pay to enter (like a movie theater). When you could talk a mile a minute and got distracted very easily, it was simple to get into places you were not supposed to. Needless to say, most places did not give Darren Cross a job.

OOC:

Tiberia sighed again and unclasped the black waterproof watch from her wrist. She'd had it for years - mainly for training on the university's swim team - but it wasn't like she had urgent need of it.

"Here you go," she said, tossing it to him. "End of excuses."

She wasn't even sure that he was gonna use it. Darren was so easily distracted, nothing short of a personalized assistant squad would keep him in line. And Tiberia couldn't afford to bring him to class by the scruff of his neck anymore, like she'd done in first year.
But hey, at least now she had some peace of mind.

"If you want, I'll help you write a message to your tutor," she finally said. "Apologize for your absence, say you were going for a run but Terminus wouldn't let you back in and you got a heatstroke. Something along those lines. With this weather, it's actually plausible."

The weather had indeed been getting hotter, so the legacy of Neptune decided to give up on the library. She'd prefer not being boiled alive surrounded by freshers. So she dropped her bag and sat down next to Darren in the cool shade, rolling her shoulders with a slight wince. Carrying books all day was killing her back. A little bit of respite felt nice. After drinking from her cooled water bottle, she turned back to her friend.

"So, what have you been up to? Apart from blowing your academic career."

Darren may be one of, if not the, most oblivious people on the planet but he was very perceptive. To anyone else in the world that would be a bit of a conundrum. How could he be oblivious but also perceptive? Simply put Darren had the normal ADHD that all Demi-Gods had, the constant battle readiness that surged them into noticing every little detail; but he also had your average garden variety ADHD on top of that. Needless to say his brain was always running off on the next thing, noticing anything and everything but not exactly storing the information. A way he liked to explain it was that everything else was moving so slow they almost appeared to be stopped while he moved about normally. The point of all this was that he had noticed Tiberia’s watch before, it was a watch she constantly seemed to have on. It was important to her. Had to be.

But also the thing bounced off his head as his hands reacted afterwards swiping at where it had been. Unphased he reached down and picked it off his chest where it landed before sitting up as she sat down next to him. “But this is your watch? You’ve had this thing forever, since before I even met you. I can’t take that?” It wasn’t because he was against handouts or anything, more that he didn’t get why she’d just give him something that he assumed was important to her. “Also heatstroke? Me? No one would believe that.” Him getting stopped by Terminus? That could absolutely happen, but his ears didn’t exactly pick up that part of her sentence. Selective hearing some people called it. More like in one ear and out the other as he hyper focused on something else.

With her dropped bag and the slight wince had Darren raise an eyebrow, as he was quite certain she had carried heavier a lot longer than he bookbag. Unless she was also somehow carrying all of her armor and weapons she owned, as well as her books and notebooks, and a snack machine in the bag as well. Heh, now that he was thinking about it he wouldn’t mind carrying around a snack machine on his back. Easy access to food whenever he wanted it? That would be the be-He did have snacks! Not a snack machine but this was something that had come up before and after Tibs had caught him ‘borrowing’ food from some of the vendors in San Francisco. He had little snack bags stashed in his book bag at all times. Reaching into the bag that had previously been used as his pillow he pulled out a bag of chips and started to eat them as TIbs asked her question.

“Oh not much, went running earlier this morning, made some interviews with some local high schools to see about coaching jobs, almost wandered into Hades again, finally figured out how to do taxes I think, took some people out for surfing lessons, read the entire library but didn’t retain any of it, and figured out how to finally do that water bottle flipping thing. Pretty sure I can get it to land right every time now. You?” Big smile on his face at that. All the normal things you’d expect of a twenty four year old ‘illegal immigrant’.

"You need it more than I do," she shrugged. "As long as you don't break it or lose it, I'm fine with it."

It wasn't like the watch had been given to her by someone special. She got it at one of the sports shops here in New Rome at a discount back when she was 12. It was very sturdy - obviously, demigod-made - so it had resisted all her fights and battles and near-death experiences. Unless Darren was going to toss it into the pits of Tartarus, it would be fine.

Resting against the tree, she listened to her friend's rapid-fire monologue and wondered for the millionth time how he'd managed to stay alive this long. He was an accident waiting to happen. Entropy in human form. The only logical explanation here was that he was just impossibly lucky - which children of Nike/Victoria usually were. Tiberia wondered if that kind of luck could be tested or pushed. Like, what if she made him balance on a rope above a cliff or juggle chainsaws over a shark tank?

She quickly tucked away those thoughts as Darren flipped the question back to her. "Oh, you know. Doing my reading, handing in assignments, going to office hours. Being a responsible adult. Nothing you'd be familiar with," she side-eyed him. As she adjusted her position against the tree, she winced again. Her back was still killing her. She'd caught Darren looking suspiciously but she wasn't going to tell him that she'd managed to fall down a flight of stairs after a row with her family. She'd stormed out after a perfect punchline and instead of doing a dramatic exit she caught her feet in the hem of her toga and rolled down the marble stairs. And she couldn't even take some healing potion because most of the stock had gone to the two camps' joint Covid relief outreach. The little that was left in New Rome was rationed and saved for emergencies. Tiberia just had to suck it up.

The shrug of noncommittal acceptance and her words about him not breaking the watch being her only stipulation earned a small side eye and raised eyebrow from the boy nay man blunder, but the watch was secured onto his left wrist. Tiberia’s dig at him being a non responsible adult didn’t phase him in the slightest, it was an old joke by now and one that held little bearing anymore. Sure, he was still akin to a living tornado let loose in a china shop but that didn’t mean he was totally irresponsible. Hades, he had even just mentioned how he had been going to job interviews and even figured out how to do taxes! Which was an interesting conundrum now that he was thinking about it. As an illegal immigrant would he have to pay taxes or would he even legally be allowed to get a job? Sneaking aboard a ship and smuggling oneself into America and having no prior place of residence didn’t lend itself to a lot of legal rights.

But that was a problem for another day. Or at least that was what Darren had been telling himself whenever the question would come up for the last five or six years. What was a current problem, other than him having missed a class and thus needing to get whatever information he missed and thus make it up somehow to the professor, was Tiberia. Or rather the problem with her back that she was so obviously trying to hide. He’d seen her injured before, more times than he cared to admit and used to be able to count. This was no different. The signs of her shouldering the pain and passing it off as if it was nothing were all there. “Uh huh. Does this ‘reasonable adult’ thing include injuring yourself and passing the pain off as if it is nothing?” He asked with a smile, before eating another handful of chips.

The pandemic and the multitude of problems that came with it, brought about a dwindling supply in both New Rome’s healing potions and Camp Half-Blood’s ambrosia and nectar. Luckily for Darren he was a member of a couple different sports teams and a regular trainer at the camp arenas and coliseum for sword fighting. That meant he had a limited supply of ambrosia and nectar. As someone who still did all of his own first-aid he also acquired some for himself over the years. Most of it got used when he would wander off on his own or get lost in only the Gods knew where.

With his hand not currently used to eat the chips, he reached into a different pocket in his book bag and pulled out a clear ‘sandwich bag’ that had a couple of squares of ambrosia. “Maybe one of these could help ease the pressure? Or I could give you a message? I’m doing really well in the physical therapy classes. Would help make you feel better and I’d get more practice.” Because there was no way that could ever be taken other than a friend wanting another friend to feel better. No other connotations a message held. Nope, Darren was just being a good friend and trying to help out someone who was in obvious pain. It’s a wonder how he was still so oblivious and innocent in this day and age. Especially given who his friends and his friends’ friends were.

Tiberia frowned as he called her out, but it wasn't worth keeping up the act. Darren knew her fairly well. Well enough, at least, to pick up on things like this. "I'll be fine, really," she said. "I've seen worse and you know it."
She didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. One of the main rules of the Legion was, don't make a fuss if you're not seriously injured. Which she wasn't. Right?

Of course, it wasn't like she didn't want to tell him what was going on. Over the years, they had often opened up to each other - ever since that time they got stranded together at a ski resort and had to walk all the way back to Camp Jupiter. Whether she liked to admit it or not, by now Darren was one of the demigods she was closest to. Probably as close as Romulus. Although, of course, that was a little different. She didn't feel for Darren the kind of straightforward camaraderie, the quasi-familial closeness she shared with Romulus. It wasn't the same. No, the son of Nike was more ... distracting than her Roman brother-in-arms.

He offered her some ambrosia, but she shook her head. In these unprecedented times, she couldn't afford to squander valuable resources. "Keep it," she told him, gently pushing away the sandwich bag. "You'll need it sooner than I do." Who knows, Darren was probably going to trip and fall right into a Cyclops lair. Wouldn't be the first time.
"That being said, I wouldn't say no to a massage," she added with a light smile.
To be clear, if any other guy had offered, she would've immediately said no. She doesn't like being touched and even less so in a situation that has such clear ...connotations. But she knew how oblivious Darren was to this sort of thing, he probably didn't even know what an ulterior motive was! And anyway, he had been doing well in his physical therapy classes. Tiberia had seen his transcript. She was starting to wonder what an A* massage feels like.

A small part of Darren wanted to call Tiberia out on her lame excuse. Sure, he knew she had definitely been through worse than whatever it was that caused her current back injury but that didn’t mean it was nothing. It was obviously causing her some pain, and despite what the Roman demi-god’s tried to tell everyone, they weren’t invincible and they did feel pain. Of course that part of his brain was quickly silenced when one of his chips missed his mouth and he had to practically juggle the thing so that it didn’t touch the grassy ground. Catching it just before it hit the ground. “Score! Totally saved it.” And a crunch it was devoured, down into his stomach where it belonged. He had saved it thus not letting the last chip that had been in the bag go to waste.

Tiberia pushing the sandwich bag holding the ambrosia squares back towards Darren brought his attention back to the present, and elicited a raspberry from Darren. “That's totally not true. You get hurt just as much as I do. But fine, I shall listen to your Roman stubbornness. If only because you agreed to at least some form of help.” He stuck his tongue out her, because yes he was absolutely that childish and a small part of him knew it would get a reaction out of her. That accomplished Darren returned both bags to his bookbag, intending to throw away the empty chip one later if he remembered, and brushed the leftover chip crumbs off his hands.

A bottle of water was procured from the side of said bag and quickly used to wash his hands off as best as he could before drying them off on what appeared to be a beach towel. Despite the fact that he now lived in a dorm on campus, and at a cabin for about a year at Camp Half-Blood before that, Darren still had some of his old tendencies and that included carrying just about everything he owned in his book bag. Or at least what would fit now. “Alright come on turn around, we’ll start with an upper back massage and then when I tell you to lay down no funny business. Gotta make sure I get everything right, and this should help you out.” Darren straight to business? Either the world was ending, or he had really changed. Or, he was about to give a massage to the woman he has had a crush on, and whom definitely reciprocated, for the last six or so years and was thus distracting his mind from that thought

Tiberia rolled her eyes as Darren stuck his tongue out. Why did the son of Nike always insist on being so... childish? It definitely didn't fit the Roman idea of decorum. Which was probably why some people in her family weren't the biggest fans of their friendship. Her mother had sometimes not-so-subtly asked whether Tiberia wasn't taking the whole Greco-Roman friendship a little too seriously, and her father, well... he had always dropped hints that friendship was okay but anything more with a non-Roman would not go well. He'd made it clear that his ideal son-in-law was Romulus - or someone like him. It had made her very platonic friendship with the son of Quirinus uncomfortable a fair few times. Fortunately Romulus was a good sport and the topic had become one they could laugh at together. Even Decimus found the idea ludicrous.

She turned around, sitting with her back to Darren and straightened up. Was she a little bit apprehensive? Maybe. Not necessarily because she doubted his skills but rather because she was letting herself be vulnerable in a new way. If her back hadn't been aching this much, she would never have accepted. "Fine, medicus. Work your magic," she said and looked over her shoulder. "By the way, I am not responsible for any muscle spasms if you hurt me accidentally."