voicetest

[brofistsforall]

It was an interesting presentation, to be sure; Jacob couldn't remember seeing anything quite like it. The lad was a bit of a troublemaker as it was, but he felt comfortable humoring the boy so long as he wasn't disruptive, and he did the work. Right now, he was going on and on his argument about how the ever-present conflict in an ecosystem could be applied to humans, and how the push to evolve was only present if there was something to evolve against, and how by that logic world peace was actually a bad thing...

It may have been been argued partly as a joke, but something deep within Jacob responded. The man frowned, reaching up to rub his head, then inhaled a sharp breath as a familiar burst struck him.

"Only through conflict do we evolve."

It was more than just the words, though. It was an intrinsic feeling attached to them, an importance and drive that was so powerful, so intense, it felt like there was a drumming in his brain. He hadn't even realized he was grimacing until a soft, "Professor?" caught his attention, most of the class looking at him with various shades of concern.

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[warped_replica]

Benjiro for one was not impressed by the arguments presented by his classmate. Within moments, he already had a list of counterpoints accumulating in his mind, and with a roll of his eyes at his seat in the back of the room, he turned his focus downwards to his notebook page covered with scrawlings of calculations and loose shapes indicating components. Professor Petty would entertain the full presentation, then likely only prod at one or two of the gaping holes to make a point and avoid allowing such nonsense to taint the waters of his lecture space.

Or that was his assumption before he heard the near gasp from his professor.

Eyes snapping up in an instant from his page of work, he leans to peek between the heads along the column in front of him. The visual cues present are enough to recognize distress in the man, and lend to a small number of potential explanations. The first being that Professor Petty is experiencing a level of cardiac arrhythmia or vascular anomly, and a second some sort of seizure. Given his good health, that instead shifts probability towards the third option; an effect of being one of the numbered living in Mossgate.

He really should have anticipated this... For himself, certainly. He never seems to know what will set off another crack in his human shell. Professor Petty on the other hand always seems to have everything so well managed. Yet - that’s what adults do, isn’t it? Keep calm and teach on. Then freak out later.

Rummaging through the first few plans he had devised to redirect attention in any general setting in a flash (most of his plans for within this classroom rely on him being the one in distress), he settles on the fastest to implement. Snatching a bluetooth speaker from his backpack at his feet, he switches it on as the other students start to rise and shift in their seats - the student at the front is stepping closer to the professor - and taps at his phone to activate a program. Keeping down low, he slides the speaker along the smooth floor to the opposite side of the room in the corner and activates it.

With a rather heavy reverb, a loud, wet, and deep recording of flatluence plays. It elicits a response as intended, dragging gazes towards the corner of the room where the sound originated from and rapid denials from the students closest to the device.

Sitting up quickly, Ben motions towards the doorway in exaggerated gestures to his professor at the front. Go!

[brofistsforall]

He's already raising a hand to ward off any concern, shaking his head. I'm fine, he wants to insist, but no words come out. Bloody hell, he wants to say, but even as he knows better that doesn't come out, either. He just needs- he needs-

Well.

That's a distraction.

His head snaps up, and it only takes a moment for him to sight Benjiro's gesturing. It's no small surprise to see whom his 'saviour' is, and with a gesture towards another student- they're in charge- and trusting the message to be passed on, he doesn't-quite-bolt for the door.

He has some dignity, after all.

Still, he's pale as he leans against the wall of the hallway, forcing himself to breathe. It goes without saying that he needs to get in there as soon as possible, but it's viscerally disturbing, that sense of surety.

That something that is not him, and yet...

A few minutes is all it takes before he takes a deep breath and moves back inside. "Well," he drawls, "I haven't had a presentation that made me want to vomit before, so points to you for that, Henry."

Cue the nervous laughter, but it does its job of reassuring them. Though he does briefly meet Ben's eyes, silent thanks in his own. He can take it from here, at least until the end of class.

[warped_replica]

Crude, but effective.

The student given the temporary duty of managing the classroom responds to the gesture as any responsible front-row teen would, and stands to place himself in the way of the door as the professor makes his exit. Unfortunately for that student, the few minutes is not enough for him to personally quell the mixture of laughter, arguing, embarrassed and disgusted remarks, and accusations once the speaker is found.

However, once the professor returns to the doorway, the students quiet down with a hush of concern - only to laugh in an awkward release of relief and disbelief. As the other students lose their tension, Benjiro maintains his in a furrowed brow even as he dips his head forward once in a nod to his teacher as he settles back into his seat once more.

The class resumes as scheduled, and through it, Ben keeps his eyes up to the front for the longest period he has managed since he can remember. His eyes feel tired from the focus by the time the bell chimes, but it clears with a few blinks and a rub from the heel of a hand. He turns his attention to his notepad, flipping to a new page to scrawl in a bit of nonsense to look like he has one last thought to record as other students pack and head to the door. A little slower about gathering his supplies into his bag, he pulls one strap to his shoulder as he rises only as the last students trickle through the front space in the room. Without a word, he moves as though to leave himself, but upon reaching the door, grasps the handle to twist and push the door into its frame gingerly. Releasing the handle gradually, he lets the mechanism slide into place to clasp without locking with barely a click.

Door shut, he turns to look back towards his professor with an anxious look of poorly suppressed worry. He's quiet as he walks back towards his mentor. He doesn't speak, he just watches for a sign of how close he can go without causing an averse reaction.

[brofistsforall]

The professor keeps his cool for the rest of the period; if there's another Echo, he shows no sign. He smiles and says his goodbyes as the students trickle out, giving a final few comments to Henry regarding the suitability of presentations, and then Benjiro's at the door, and, well...

He sighs, leaning back against the desk with his hands flat on the top. "Just how long have you had that ready?" he has to ask, tilting his head. Now that the most of the students are gone, and the only one left has an idea of what just happened...

Jacob doesn't drop the facade. Not completely, anyway. But he does allow himself to relax a little bit, or, rather, relax the wall forcing back the tension. It's too much to put this on the shoulders of a boy, and he has no plans to, but he knows Ben worries.

He'd do the same, if the other Echoed mid-lesson. At least someone in his own position could send Benjiro to the washroom; it's not quite so easy, vice versa.

[warped_replica]

Upon reaching the corner of that desk, Benjiro slows to a halt with the strap of his bag sliding over the edge of the acromion and down his humerus towards his elbow. He doesn't quite drop his bag, but the motion is a hint that he's certainly willing to stick around longer than the minutes granted by the bells.

His other hand reaches to his chin to tap twice with the tips of his first and second finger together before he answers the question, "...87 days, and roughly 16 hours? I originally intended it for use in a restaurant. Food poisoning would be judged as more severe with a variety of...uh, noises."

The speaker had vanished in someone else's pocket. The cheap item wouldn't be missed.

Trying to offer some reassurance, he manages a half smile and a shrug of his free shoulder, "If anything like that happens again, I'll be better prepared."

[brofistsforall]

That's his Benji. Jacob chuckles wryly, shaking his head. "Sixteen hours," he repeats, some humor creeping in. Because of course the lad'd think to count that. "Well, I appreciate it, but doubt it'll work twice. Not that it's your responsibility in the first place, but." He tilts his head again, allowing the silence to speak for itself. But thank you, anyway.

"Was just a memory. I think. I don't feel any different, anyway." Considering he regained usage of his arm early on, he does know what it feels like to have a more...physical experience. This one...upsetting as it was, seems to be just that...

What does he even call it?

[warped_replica]

Benjiro has better precision with his time estimations when the results of work are not part of a series of numerous developments feeding into his gradually escalating insomnia.

Repetition of the tactic, especially in the short term, would almost guarantee failure, and Benjiro merely nods in acknowledgement of that fact. He pauses however when his professor tries to establish a boundary for such interventions, and scoffs softly, "Says the guy that had a kid he barely knows stay after class to start building a rapport to keep an eye on him."

You're welcome.

At the description, Benjiro glances down thoughtfully with his hand once more rising to his chin to this time cup it between his thumb and first finger loosely. "Can you recall anything you saw? Or anything you heard with it?" Whatever it may have been, it seemed pretty intense.

[brofistsforall]

"I'm paid to keep an eye on kids. The fact I enjoy doing it just means I don't have to be." Not all the time, anyway, but the point is there; he's experienced in doing this, he's comfortable doing it, this is a position and role he's used to. A boy taking care of an adult?

Not impossible, but regrettable.

Moving on, though. He's quiet for a few moments, then lets out a breath and pushes up from the desk to move around it and sit down. "I can. I'd rather not talk about it."

He hasn't shared much about his previous memories with Benjiro. The most the boy probably knows is that his professor is distinctly uncomfortable with most of them.

[warped_replica]

Beyond ages, it is a matter of merely looking after another numbered.

Not able to discern more as the man stands from his desk to move around and sit down away from him, Benjiro lets his hand slip down from his chin to hang for a second in front of his chest. His gaze drops down and away when his professor closes the avenue of further discussion regarding what had shaken him in front of the class. Nothing new there.

Still…

His hand reaches down to pull his backpack around in front of himself with a small adjustment of the strap, and he pulls open a zipper to start digging around in the main compartment. It takes a second to get to the right inner pocket, but he pulls out a handful of colorfully wrapped snack treats with a goofy face on each one. Leaning forward, he places them down on the desk in front of his teacher without looking at the man, and stands as he takes a step back. Tugging at his main zipper to close, he explains, “Umaibo. Cheap puff corn snacks from Japan. They’re something I had growing up, and…they provide an extra level of sensory in the present. It helps sometimes.”

[brofistsforall]

Most of his memories have been the sort that keep him staring up at the ceiling of his flat late at night, wondering just what kind of person he was - and trying to convince himself it doesn't have an impact on who he is now.

He doesn't expect Benjiro to leave immediately. It's not in his character; he's an empathetic lad, even aside from the bond of Numbers they share. But Jacob's on the fence about offering him a place, here, because doesn't he have to get to his next class? Or is it break time? He's still a bit disorientated, he realizes unhappily, and he closes his eyes again to take another deep breath.

When he opens them, there's a strange set of packages on his desk. He blinks down at them, then looks up, lips tugging in a smile despite himself.

"This isn't one of those things I'm supposed to eat a certain way, is it? I still can't figure out pocky."

[warped_replica]

Explanation provided, Benjiro finally looks back to his professor once he has shuffled his bag back over his shoulder properly out of the way. It is heartening to see the smile, however weak, and his posture eases. He chuckles softly, and shakes his head, “No. There’s no specific way to eat them. And really, Pocky doesn’t have a set technique. Unless you count holding it by the uncoated end...?”

Venturing a half step forward, he points at the packages in the order they lie from right to left for his professor, “So that’s cheese flavor, teriyaki burger, tonkatsu sauce, pizza, and, oh...you might not like that last one. Shrimp and mayonnaise.” Right. He forgot that flavor came in the assorted pack he grabbed these out of the other day on his way out the door. Not willing to rescend his meager gift, he motions to wave it off casually, “You can just toss it if you don’t feel like trying it some other time.”

[brofistsforall]

"Well, that sounds like a challenge."

Smirking just a tad, Jacob immediately reaches for it, making to unwrap and break it in half. If nothing else, a snack may help his blood sugar, at least for the short term until he can get a meal and-or some tea. It certainly wouldn't hurt, he thinks.

"Is this a flavor you're used to, or did it just come in the variety?" Either way, after he takes half from the pack, he's offering the half still within to Ben. For all he knows, Benjiro may enjoy the flavor, but it's the splitting that he's after; he appreciates the company, and unless Ben's in a hurry to leave, doesn't want to give him the feeling he's unwelcome.

[warped_replica]

The adventrous response surprises Ben enough that his lower jaw loosens and his lips barely part with a raise of his dark eyebrows. The flavor combination that Western folk tend to baulk at has become a point for redirection. And here he had just hoped his professor would not be disgusted enough to toss it straight to the trash bin. Recovery of the teen comes with a soft but rather delighted laugh when he picks up the stick snack. He’s really opening it!

The second half offered is enough to draw him right up to the edge of the desk as he accepts it without hesitation. In answer to the query, he motions with his free hand side to side, “A bit of both. I ordered a variety pack, but I used to eat this one when I lived in Japan. There were a few I avoided.”

Rather than crunching the snack immediately, he obeys basic manners enough to take a bite at the same time as his professor. It’s not his favorite, but it’s not bad. Curiosity keeps his gaze on Professor Petty.

[brofistsforall]

Just goes to show that while he can be knocked down, it's hard to take him out. Proverbially speaking, of course.

"Do I want to know those flavors?" he asks, examining his half of the stick dubiously. Well, it seems like Ben's ready, so one...two...

Crnch.

He chews slowly, expression thoughtful. Finally, he swallows, shaking his head a bit with a wry expression. "You know, it's not the worst thing I've had, but I think I'll pass on a repeat."

[warped_replica]

Not wanting to cause delay, Ben merely shrugs his shoulders as an initial response regarding the other flavors of this particular snack line.

Taking a slow approach to his half portion, he nibbles off a small section to begin. While his own first bite goes down smoothly, he nevertheless has to respect how composed his teacher remains after exposure to the bizzare treat. He nods once, supressing the amusement trying to tug his smile wider.

“Don’t worry, those others taste much better. Artificial, but palatable. Quite unlike the versions of pollock roe, octopus, and vegetable salad. I like my veggies, but a dry crunch with something akin to broccoli just seems unnatural.”

A shift in stance towards one leg brings the edge of his pelvis up against the desk to allow him to lean a small fraction of his weight onto the furniture. Allowing his backpack to slide down off his shoulder in the shift to hang at his elbow, he takes another bite. Once he swallows, he has to inquire, “...so what is the worst thing you’ve tried to eat?”