Wilhelm caught sight of Claude, whose nose was bandaged and clothes rather disheveled. He pressed his lips into a thin line, picking up his notebook and standing. “Sorry for intruding, I’ll be out of your hair.” He gave a quick wave to them, making his way back to his normal table.
Oliver blinked, and waved, then launched back into his explanation.
"Oh my god, Oliver. Slow down." Connor eventually complained. "Ah get it, ah really do."
"–right, sorry. I just…I'm going to be a politician. I want to help people." Oliver looked mildly embarrassed. "Sorry."
At their usual spot, Claude and Wilhelm were already engaged in lively conversation. Wilhelm had his notebook out, and was picking it up to show Claude specific pages and specimens. He held a few shoots of grass, going over the differences in them just as he did with Connor.
Connor chuckled. "Ah know, ah get it. Ah also live here in England. Ah know wh' our politics 're like."
Wilhelm laughed, setting down the notebook as Claude talked. They seemed to be swapping stories, whatever the contents were. Wilhelm had the same energy as a puppy, attention bouncing around excitedly.
Oliver nodded, embarrassed. "Yeah, right. Right. Uhm…" he asked Connor a few questions about how the Scottish boy was settling in, and Connor answered the questions and asked a few of his own.
“How’s your nose doing, then?” Wilhelm pointed to the bandages on Claude’s face, head tilted.
“Broken to shit. That boy really did a number on my face, there’s no debate there.” Claude groaned, lightly touching the bandages and recoiling in pain. “There’s some difficulties breathing, but I’m alive.”
Connor and Oliver kept talking as Connor sipped on his tea, laughing a little as Oliver told a funny story, complete with stupid, goofy faces.
“It’s a tragedy. Your beautiful face may never be the same again!” Wilhelm lamented, only partially serious. A lopsided, toothy grin spread across his face.
“I ought to break yours too, maybe you’d take this more seriously.” Claude countered, flicking Wilhelm’s forehead.
Oliver finished up his story, letting out a breath. "We had quite the storm last night, too."
"Yeah. It…wasn't great." Connor agreed, remembering how Wilhelm had shook and trembled with each crash of thunder.
Claude twiddled with his thumbs. “The weather last nights was shit. How’d you do?”
Wilhelm shrugged, clasping his hands behind his neck. “Better? Not great, but I didn’t vomit. That’s a plus, at least.”
"Yeah. My leg acts up when the weather gets bad. Something to do with pressure or something." Oliver shook his head.
"Ooh. That sucks."
“That can’t be your gauge for how bad it went, Wil.” Claude shook his head with a small sigh.
“Can’t it? It’s worked in the past, and it hasn’t happened a couple times, doesn’t that count for something?”
(gtg soon sorry)
Oliver shrugged. "Not as bad as it could be, really. At least I still have the damnable thing."
(good to know; thanks!)
Claude began to argue back, but Wilhelm spoke first. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? It’s something I need to deal with on my own.”
(Np! Also I won't really be on this evening, sorry)
Connor nodded. "Yeah, there is tha'." he replied, taking another sip from his tea.
(it really is all good)
Claude nodded with a grimace.
“How’s the editing going? Did you get any of those papers done?” Wilhelm suddenly asked, trying to switch the topic.
(k thanks)
Oliver thought for a moment. "You know…do you need help with that science homework?"
Connor thought for a moment. "No, actually. I got that done. Bu' thanks."
Claude blinked, but dug in his bag. He dropped a small stack onto the table. “Take a look. I got two done- took one from incoherent to vague babbling, another from good to great.”
Oliver smiled lightly. "No problem. So, how have you been settling in? Doing okay?"
He nodded. "Yeah, pretty well, actually."
“Which ones? Let me see!” Wilhelm grinned, now used to seeing the papers covered in corrections and red ink.
Claude handed over the papers, letting Wilhelm shuffle through them. “The literary analyses are always the worst.”
"Oh, good." Oliver replied. He thought for a long moment. "You going to do any sports?"
Connor snorted. "Yeh see how short ah am? No' going ta do sports, no."
Wilhelm sniffed, handing the papers back over. “Those originals are… rough. Why aren’t you charging these kids, Claude?”
(Sorry responses are taking so long! I’m doing hefty culturebuilding rn)
Oliver laughed. "Come on, you could actually do well. People would underestimate you."
"Yeah…no." Connor shook his head.
(Haha it's fine, dude. Take all the time you need)
Claude took the papers back, eyeing them proudly. “The economy’s shit. I know everyone here could afford any fees I charged, but it just isn’t worth it. Besides, my style of writing has a distinct quality to it, meaning teachers know that their students got it edited. That’s payment enough.”
“..Fair, I guess. You haven’t gotten in trouble for that yet? Isn’t it technically cheating?” Wilhelm tilted his head.