Though Anna had finished her work and was on standby for any more information that she might need to find, she found herself in a dilemma.
She didn't know why she chose this degree out of everything she could have. If she was honest, she thought she would have an easy ride and wouldn't stand out as she would in a technical course, but she hadn't expected needing to spend so much time reading the syllabus. All part of the role.
Now, she was in the swamp and she was determined not to drown before everybody else did. And so, presented with the option of either failing a class after not submitting her thesis paper and putting in all the effort needed until she could leave, she chose the latter. For some reason, she had chosen radical religious practices and social organization as her focus. She had the vague hope that she would do well until she didn't have to do it anymore.
It was a few weeks before her thesis was due that her faculty advisor told her that her paper lacked focus. She damn near fainted. Lack of focus?
'Excuse me, white-haired, pretending to be hip philosophy professor… I am the epitome of focus!'
She was irritated with her advisor for taking weeks to tell her but more with herself, for not noticing the obvious issue. Outside the advisor's office, she waited, wondering how she should salvage the paper to pass.
Why did a working woman like her need to study so hard… god knew.
She had picked the topic because it was the topic she knew quite a bit about, but it turned out… she couldn't be factual about her knowledge. And the case studies… how was she supposed to approach militant religious groups with her identity as a college student?
In the end, she needed to think of something interesting if she wanted to retain any hope for making a good piece of work.
The door opposite to her opened and Ladislas walked out. Right on time. He was dressed in a turtle neck and slacks. He came to a startled stop because she had been standing like a beggar, staring at his office door.
She hated the whole thing. She didn't want to ask for his help, but she couldn't find another way.
He did look criminally handsome in these clothes. The thought passed her mind before she could control it. Those cheekbones of his were on display for the world to see at all times. They were definitely weapons.
She saw him wait for a minute or two for her to speak before his eyes revealed impatience.
"Do you have something to say?" he asked.
Anna shook her head. She needed to come up with a good way to convince him. Frustration and games aside, he did know more about the subject than she did… or wanted to.
She smiled as she saw him leave.
He had a class to attend. But she couldn't give up on the chance to play with him. It was a bad idea.
She came right after his office hours ended. She knocked on his door at two minutes past six and heard his clear voice asking her to enter.
She peered in and smiled as she scampered in and took a seat across from him.
She had expected him to say no.
But he listened to her thesis progress and her new ideas as he stood at the corner of the room, leaning against the wall, shaking his head at intervals. She kept her confidence as she outlined her idea, feeling it come to life despite the shake of his head.
"Do you not agree with my theory?" she asked.
He cocked his brow. "No. I agree with it completely. It shows great clarity in your understanding of the world. I usually shake my head when I am deep in thought and agreeing," he revealed.
Anna quickly learned another one of his quirks.
The glow of the light over him outlined him in a soft glow, giving him an otherworldly aura. The office itself was gloomy, leaving half of his face cast in shadow. A physical manifestation of the devilish mobster that people saw on the television.
She went into further explanation and noticed him moving from his position. Her eyes followed his form as he moved around the room and finally put a cup of coffee on the desk in front of her. She looked at it dumbly and her eyes traveled to the opened box of coffee, the same brand she had previously bought for him.
She took a savage pleasure in it and chose not to comment on the matter, not when he had made her a cup to drink.
When she finished and fell silent, she watched him acutely. He was frowning as he crossed his arms across his chest.
She instinctively knew he was going to say no.
"This is a mixture of the ethics and justice module with religious studies," he commented slowly.
"Yes," she agreed. The tone was easy as if he would reciprocate in the same manner. The way he spoke to her curiously and comfortably sounded right coming from his mouth. She liked the way his tongue curled at the sounds. It was the tone of the intelligent conversation that was music to her ears. It made her want to close her eyes and listen closer.
"You are completely changing your thesis and you are months behind your peers," he continued. "The module is fully marked on this thesis you will submit."
She snorted before she could stop herself. His lip quirked in response but he nodded, agreeing with her unmentioned conviction.
"You will require two advisors because I can only help you make an overall framework and tell you where to look. My expertise is in—"
"No, it's not," she said before he could finish.
I have gotten more than one heart attack with the professor who shook his head when he was deeply impressed and thinking about my words. Scary people. How do you think a pesky thesis paper will change their relationship?
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