Okay, cool. Dean had been on the island for exactly a week now, and so far he was still more or less sane. This probably had something to do with the way he'd managed to avoid actually meeting any of the students yet, granted. But for the time being? Sane
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Butters slowly, carefully, subtly, put the paste back.
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She was even going to try to fucking participate in class. Just for this guy, because he fucking gave her coffee.
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... Artists are kind of obsessed over that kind of thing. It's a totally fair warning.
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Hopefully it wouldn't come out looking like a ransom note.
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What? Dean hadn't said they couldn't go three dimensional on top of their posterboard, right?
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No, it wasn't for a ransom note.
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"Self-explanatory, huh?" Dean was smirking as he nodded toward his own coffee mug. "The stuff of life, kids. Trust me. You'll understand someday."
Like, as soon as they made it to college. Especially if they went on to art school.
"Okay, your turns. Let's see your work, hear your names, and learn a little something about what you put together, there."
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She set a fresh, steaming cup of coffee on a nearby desk, then held her work for the day over it. A big paper fan stuck off one end on a scissor axle, spinning slowly thanks to the steam rising off the coffee, setting off a chain reaction of little wound paper belts and posterboard-covered-in-car-ads gears.
"It doesn't actually do anything other than spin." She shrugged. "And, you know, look kinda neat."
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"Well, this is art class," he pointed out, walking over to get a better look. "Looking 'kinda neat' is one of those things that comes in kind of handy with this sort of thing, you know?"
He watched the whole thing at work for another moment before glancing up at her.
"So, you're some kind of mechanic, I'm guessing?"
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