6015/Let There Be Lessons

Let There Be Lessons
Date of Scene:	22 April 2021
Location:	Happy Harbor campus
Synopsis:	Nazo Sarwani introduces herself at Happy Harbor, and finds it largely empty. But a teacher signs her up for classes anyway!
Cast of Characters:	Friday, Nazo Sarwani

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Friday has posed:
Ms Torres sits in her small office, expecting nobody.

The recent attack on the Happy Harbor campus have left the place primarily deserted. She has to be on site, just in case a student wants assistance, but she spends the time flipping through her course materials. The sign on her door says: "Ms Torres, Geography, World History.

But with all of her classes being offered online til the school's security can be reworked. She really doesn't expect a human presence in the hallway, even if her door is wide open. "Yay, grading papers," she mumbles to herself. Well, students will be students. You know, lazy.

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
The footsteps in the hallway are very quiet. Indeed it's the rustle of the gown the person is wearing that gives it away before the footsteps. And that's not a lot of warning before Isabella sees the figure skulking the hall outside her office, dressed entirely in black, even covering its head and face outside of dark eyes. The figure looks in the direction of Isabella's office, looks up and down the hall, then makes a beeline for it.

It was only a matter of time before the assassins got called in, wasn't it?

Friday has posed:
Given the level of her cover, the fact that Isabella only tenses is a testament to her level of training. She has no defenses in this facility. She isn't expecting assassins. She's a teacher, and while she may not be a very good one yet it's hardly something you hire out over.

She doesn't look around for weapons. She doubles down and hopes it'll work, but if things really go south she can always go low. They never expect you to go low.

"Hello? Is someone out there?"

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
The black-clad figure--a woman, going by the shape of the form beneath as hinted at by the sash that binds the outfit around her waist--pops back into view at the door crack. There's a polite knocking.

Assassins are polite? They must have hired very well-bred ones.

"Um... excuse me?" The accented voice speaks quietly, uncertainly. "I came to register for classes, but there's ... nobody here?"

A short uncomfortable pause as the figure fidgets a bit.

"I'm supposed to be taking evening GED classes."

Friday has posed:
Isabella's heart rate slows a few notches. The familiar tones of a student are calming, even if it does mean work. She actually kind of likes helping people to learn, after all.

"I'm Ms Torres, then," she offers. "Come in. You're suffering from a lack of reading the online boards, miss." She pauses, then says in Arabic, "I welcome you to our house."

In English, she follows up with, "The school is sort of shut down, but I can help you get established. Classes will be starting again soon."

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
"Online?" The voice speaks Arabic back at Isabella, although accented (albeit far less accented than her English). "Oh, you mean Internet. I don't have Internet now." She snorts amusedly behind her niqab. "I need money for that, and my first few paycheques have gone toward shelter and food."

She pauses, looking down at the ground. "I'm new to your country."

Looking back up, she wonders aloud, "Why would they shut down a school?"

Friday has posed:
Isabella laughs. She sounds amused, but one could be forgiven if they misunderstood, until she follow it with, "This is not my country, Miss. You need to tell me what to call you though, I can't keep calling you Miss and we need your name for the paperwork. I was born in Argentina, I am not a native here either."

She swings around, opening up the requisite computer windows. "They shut it down for a short while, to reevaluate security. Some students were attacked in an attempt to kidnap one of them. We don't really like that kind of thing, so I offered courses online for a time. You can use the library computers once you're signed up. I'll get you a library card requisition."

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
"Nazo Sarwani," Nazo introduced herself. "From Afghanistan." A short pause followed. "The kidnappers were killed then, were they?" she asks. Her voice hopeful. "That's the best way to make sure they pick a weaker target: be too strong for them."

Same planet. Different worlds. Talking about killing kidnappers like it was the weather outside.

For administrative processes Nazo is oddly passive. She takes instruction well. She listens. She repeats. She does. But she provides no input beyond what is asked of her. And very little conversation.

Until...

"Is Argentina a nice place?" Nazo asks. "Peaceful?" This seems to be important to her.

Friday has posed:
"I think some of them may have. I'm not a combatant, this is a normal school, Nazo. Do you prefer to be called Nazo? I can call you by your last name if you prefer." She asks this as she inputs the information, collecting any ID that Nazo may have available.

"I for one am not a super of any shape or type. I'm a teacher. And yes, Argentina is very nice. It has its wars, but overall the place has been free of major strife for about a decade. Seems that the supers and villains both avoid it, and they are big combat attractors in today's society. Why, did you want a course on it? I do offer geography and world history, which fits into a GED quite well."

She perks up a bit when asked questions, though she's probably bored. The school is kind of quiet, afte rall. "Also, how can I contact you? Celphone number, or a land line? You don't have internet so no email address to put on file." She doesn't ask for funding. This is a public school, but she assumes courses will be paid for appropriately.

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
"Nazo is fine," she reassures. "I don't stand on ceremony." Unstated: I don't deserve courtesy anyway. There is an interesting shift in Nazo's stance, however, as Isabella mentions supers. Nervousness. Like someone's had bad experience with them, perhaps?

"I have a telephone number, and address, here on this card." Her hands disappear into her abaya and pull out a hand-written, in very neat handwriting, card that has her contact information on it. The kind of thing you'd give a child in case they get lost. "I have been told that my GED will be covered, but there is extra paperwork involved to get that money. My employer is sponsering me. I brought that with me as well if that's needed now?"

Friday has posed:
"Thank you, Nazo. I'm Isabella, but call me Ms Torres in class please. It's apparently tradition here." She takes the card, but looks Nazo over when she changes how she's acting. "Did I say something wrong?" She can input the information blindfolded. She can't counsel a student without attention. "And...well, money is for the finance department to handle. I just want to make sure you're on the right track, today."

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
"I'm unused," Nazo says, "to the presence of so many like ..." She stops herself from talking a moment. "... ifrit and djinn." That wasn't what she was going to say. Not the way her mouth was fleetingly shaped. "To hear it spoken of so casually instead of with great wonderment is a little bit surprising to me. You did not say anything wrong."

There's a distinct feeling that this is not the whole story.

"Thank you for all your help. I ... procrastinated in this because I was nervous of it. You make that seem foolish now."

Friday has posed:
Isabella pauses, steepling her fingers in thought. She looks at Nazo, or as much as she can see of her, then motions to a chair. "You can sit if it helps you to relax. You're of the tradition that allows Djinn, I'm aware of it. The Islamic traditions are older than most, I can't fault your beliefs. And honestly, this country baffles me at times myself."

"Forgive me for saying, but you really shouldn't ignore your instincts so quickly. There are a lot of dangers here, in this land. Your hesitation is probably going to save your life someday."

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
"Instincts?" Would those be the instincts that have the body under the concealing gown tensing up? The instincts that have someone weighing first Isabella with seemingly practiced eyes before gauging the distance to the door? "Hesitation?"

Someone has just been hit with fight-or-flight and is leaning strongly toward the latter.

"I just ... it's ... language. I hesitate when I search for the right word." Because 'ifrit' is totally an English word that doesn't slip from her tongue naturally, right?

Friday has posed:
Isabella smiles. She motions to the door, then says, "Okay. There is a reason we keep the doors open for these visits. It's so if you feel the need to go, you can. Any time you want to. But I'd like it if you came back, so I'll call you with a schedule. Is that alright?"

She doesn't have a lot more, the basics have been covered. And no assassins tried to murder anyone. Boring visit, but there's always next time.

Nazo Sarwani has posed:
"That would be fine, yes. I have given you my work telephone for day time and home telephone for night time. Do not worry about calling me at my employment. My employer understands that there is, as he puts it, 'bow-coo paperwork' for me to unravel."

With that, Nazo is up and moving to the door. Pausing there, half-outside (obvious defensive posturing) she turns back to add, "Thank you very much Isabella, or Ms. Torres in class. You are a kind soul."

And with that she's gone, as before the rustling of her clothing outperforming her footwear for sound.