maskormenacelogs | Hold on, hold on...

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Hold on, hold on...

WHO: Jonathan Crane and Utena Tenjou
WHERE: One of Crane's psychology lectures
WHEN: Early July
WHAT: It's open lecture day and Utena decides to check up on an old acquaintance
WARNINGS: None yet

One doesn't need to be enrolled in university to attend today's lecture, and a small handful of high school students have taken advantage of this open invite. Some of them are honors students, advanced enough in their studies to understand the material, and nearly all of them have a fascination with Crane's reputation that their parents and teachers certainly wouldn't approve of.

Utena doesn't share their fascination, and unfortunately, she doesn't share their grades, either. She's curious about Crane for a different reason: can a guy like him really go straight? And if he can, what does that mean for everyone else here? She doesn't have any time to think about it, though. She's too busy keeping up with the lecture. The topic for today is, as Crane put it, personalised approaches to pharmacotherapy, and that alone is enough to make her realize that she's in over her head. Her face grows pale and she scribbles her notes furiously, glancing from him and her paper for some kind of understanding.

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Crane doesn't acknowledge her, though just about every other native student does. A little curious about her reputation as much as Crane's own. Almost. There are a number of fascinating things about the both of them, but the flicker of interest in their professor's reputation keeps them facing forward and paying him mind.

He doesn't even seem to lose his train of thought as he begins lecturing about tailoring medical treatment for schizophrenic patients - that it would involve the identification of homogeneous subsets through the application of genetics, epigenetics, proteomics and metabolomics, neuroimaging and other biomarkers, and the use of findings to stratify according to responses to treatment. He then replaces the cap on the water he keeps on his desk and rubs his fingers into the grain with a stiff, frustrated motion.

"Questions?"

He tries to sound friendly but barely comes off as tolerating their presence.

Yep, she's definitely in over her head. The more technical details fly over her head and her notes aren't the most accurate, but she thinks she gets the gist. Medicine isn't a one size fits all thing, so doctors have to look at how a patient's body works instead of just playing Russian Roulette with a bunch of pills. That makes sense, but she'll still let the honors kids ask the questions here.

Except there's a problem with her plan: they're all staring at her, waiting on her to say something. She blinks, not sure what they want from her, until a girl subtly elbows her in the side. Instead of a brilliant question, all she gets from Utena is a muffled "ow!" and a dirty look before she elbows her back. Aren't you glad to have such model students, Crane?

"That's enough."

His voice is calm and cold with a chill that keeps people frozen to their seats. He is aware of his reputation and knows how to use it.

"If you cannot behave, there's the door."

His hands come down either side of the lectern, his fingers coiling as though he was reminding himself he was teaching and not experimenting.

"How about you, Ms. Tenjou? Do you have a question?"

Did he just single her out? Yes.

It's spooky how everyone just quiets down. Before Utena can relax, though, she finds Crane's sights set on her. She clenches her pencil as her eyebrow twitches, and her grip is so tight that her finger phases through by mistake. Gritting her teeth, she sets to yanking it out before facing Crane.

"Yeah, I've got a question-"

Out comes the pencil! And with no blood, too. Some students look impressed, while some look disappointed. She points it at Crane, and channeling her righteous annoyance into something more noble, says, "If this stuff works so well - all this testing, I mean - then why don't we do it more often? It sounds like it would work a lot better than just handing someone a pill and going, 'Good luck!'"

When the question ends, Crane closes his notebook and rests his hands on the cover. He has every intention of giving her his answer but he holds himself back for theatrical effect. Some students look to be paying attention, but others are resting their cheeks on their fists. He slaps a hand hard against the podium to catch them unawares.

"Put simply, we are beginning to understand the human genome code that offers this approach - but we're still a long way from understanding what it means. Genes constitute 2% of the human genome. The remaining 98% is dismissed as junk DNA. Yet 88% of changes to the genetic code associated with a variety of genetic disorders are found in this, well, trash. We just have no idea how such changes cause the symptoms of the disease."

She startles when he slams his hands on the podium, and all she can think is what the hell is his problem? There's got to be a better way to get people's attention than that. Utena frowns... and frowns harder after Crane's answer. It's not upsetting, but she doesn't know what to say to that, and it serves as another reminder of how out of her depth she is.

"Yeah, well..."

She shrugs, and says, "With all the super geniuses around here, maybe we can figure something out."

And as soon as she says this, the students behind her start to whisper. She can make out the word porter, but nothing else. What? What did she say?

The whispers continue and Crane writes something out of sight. He pulls his pen back with a twirl, keeps his eyes on the crowd, frustratingly clicks the lid a few times and clears his throat.

"I would hope so. Though I wouldn't hold my breath."

He doesn't continue. He is too busy listening to whispers.

Suddenly, his voice reaches through the auditorium, "As you are going to the trouble of sharing your thoughts with your friends, perhaps you might share them with the class?"

The class remains silent for a moment, before a boy sitting behind Utena clears his throat and raises his hand. He's a gangly young man, the kind of adolescent who has yet to grow into the body given him, but as awkward as he may have been earlier he's managed to find some kind of courage.

"I don't, Doctor. I was just wondering... why do you think ImPorts were brought here? Do you think you were meant to solve problems like this?"

His comment earns some murmurs of approval and some sour looks. It looks like there's some disagreement among the students about imPorts' place in this world... or maybe they think he's being a kissass. It could go either way, really.

"I don't."

His tone contains a measure of thought and boredom. He wanted to talk about subjects that fascinate him. He wanted to educate them about his passions. A fascination for fear and how it affected the mind - which hardly extended to deus ex machina in its most literal sense.

"However, I cannot say I'm particularily concerned. Back home, I know a man who would comment: perhaps there is no meaning. Now, I can handle that. It's not something that troubles me, but you interrupted my lesson because of your existential crisis. If ImPorts are brought here to solve these difficult questions, what use does the world have of you? I think it's a worry for you - and your friends, though they might deny it."

"Whoa, hold on!"

There's Utena speaking up again, and to be honest, nobody else is going to right now. None of the students can meet Crane's gaze now, and some of them look down at their desks while others share glances with each other.

"You're going too far. I mean, just because we- uh, just because imPorts can help out, that doesn't mean that everyone else is useless."

Crane watches her sternly; eyeballing her from the podium with his disrespect difficult to hide. He doesn't say anything for a while as he tries to focus on what the class is feeling. He doesn't move a muscle. The morose feeling spreads across the lecture hall and he finds himself with more of a spring in his step. Not that he's walking away right now.

"When did I say that? Useless. You might not believe it, but everyone is thinking it. You've got violent riots and propaganda. People are certainly feeling uncomfortable - scared, even - because their place in this world is on the line. What they don't realize is how irrational they're being. There's plenty of space in this reality for everyone."

That's...a good point, actually. There should be enough space for everyone, so what's the point of fighting? Her righteous indignation dims, and she slumps down into her seat, with nothing else to say and her own thoughts a muddled mess.

The quiet doesn't last for long, though, and nearly everyone jumps in their seats when the door slams behind them. One of the students in the back has had enough of the lecture, and had no interest in leaving silently. Utena stares at the door, when the girl next to her mutters something under her breath.

"Well, maybe not everyone."

It earns a snicker from one of the other students, and Utena turns around sharply, frowning without realizing it.

Crane doesn't acknowledge the walkout, though a few students do.

He decides to return to his lecture and goes full on explaining personalised monitoring for people with bipolar disorder. He feels no interest in investing his attention in a student who will fail his course - he doesn't even look convinced by her manner of departure as he gestures and explains something to another student who's had their arm up for hours.

The lesson ends eventually, and after he sits at his desk managing his papers. He doesn't even bother to acknowledge anyone leaving the room. Though he is receptive to questions.

Most of the students take the opportunity to leave, but a few of them linger around, hoping to either gain Crane's attention or to see something a little more strange and fantastic than their previous lesson. Utena, meanwhile, is unsure of what she's waiting for. She shoves her things into her backpack with a sigh and slips out of her seat, ready to head to the door before she finds herself approaching the desk. Her appearance catches the attention of the remaining students, however brief, but she ignores them as she glances down at Crane's papers.

"So..."

She shifts her weight on one foot as she readjusts the straps of her backpack, and says, "Is now a good time to talk? Or should I drop by later?"

There's a few things she's curious about, but they only have the barest relation to the lecture, and even then, she's not sure she'd want to discuss anything with these guys around.

One of his eyebrows raise. "I would prefer to get this done."

He gestures at the stack a little bit and finds his motivation wanting. A regular class, regular students and some routine are not the excitement he'd planned for. Drawing circles on the desk with his finger, he digs into the wood a little harder when he thinks about Bruce. He slides his hand down the table and over the side, missing the anticipation that had once slid down his back.

His voice speaks quietly, some morose thought he's open about sharing.

"Is it urgent?"

Is she Batman? No. She can go away.

Her eyes follow his hand to the stack of papers, and she watches his finger's journey across his desk. Utena crosses her arms over her stomach, unimpressed.

"It's not an emergency," she says, "But you don't really seem interested in any of this."

In other words: you've got time, Doctor. Don't try and act like you don't.

He tries not to look too offended. "I can't help it. Right now, I could drop half of this," he slaps papers with the back of his hand, "dross in the trash."

Right now, he wishes he could kick most of them out the door and tell them never to come back. But he considers how many of them are there because of his reputation. How useful and interesting they might be - and how a select few are holding him back from those old ways. Utena included.

"That's pretty rude for a teacher," she says, not quite offended, but definitely taken aback. It's only Crane's reputation that stops it from being a complete shock. "If you don't like it that much, then why are you doing it?"

He's an adult, isn't he? Can't he do something else instead?

"Do you believe I'm in it for the money?"

Placing his arm on his desk, he shields those papers from view. Truth is, money doesn't make his world go round. It's just a delightful bonus. It's... a resource.

She shrugs.

"If it was just money," she says casually, "Then you'd probably be doing something else. Like... I don't know, selling your life story to some crummy made for tv movie. You could probably live on the money from that for a while."

"I suppose so."

He drums his nails; a little too falsely. Then continues, "Though when I was arrested I had every journalist," he speaks the word icily, "try to discover everything about me for a while. I'm afraid there's little left for me to sell."

He doesn't seem particularly bothered. Investigations after his mischief were to be expected, after all.

She misses the foreshadowing, the little warning signs that Crane was about to launch his own counterattack, and his response catches Utena off guard. Her posture stiffens, her eyes going wide as she remembers why she came here to begin with. It had been easy to assume he had reformed but is that really the case?

Utena finds her courage soon enough. She takes a breath, and says, "So I guess you're just going to make money off of your fanboys, instead."

A cold dig, not just at Crane, but at some of her fellow students, as well.

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Hold on, hold on...

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