Fall in love in a weekwe get by - стр. 27
The lover of beaches and, apparently, boobs, was amazed. It seems I have behaved differently than Charlotte should have behaved again.
– Mr. Applestone, would you be so kind as to sit down and benefit our esteemed academy – at least slightly exercise your brain, and not what usually replaces it for you? – The insinuating voice with velvety intonations absolutely did not fit with the usual professorial “don’t loom.” But the effect on the students was no worse than a warning burst over their heads from something very rapid-fire and very deadly.
The glass slipped out of the red-haired girl's hands. Someone, it seems, decided to try laboratory apples on the tooth and was now coughing hysterically. Applestone turned pale and disappeared. The younger generation's nerves were clearly out of whack.
? Dougal Norwood walked quickly towards his desk, waving his hand as he went – and the objects on the students' tables moved in some order known to him.
– I see you had a successful summer. If I ever need to return my brain to its rudimentary state, I will know who to consult. Let me remind you once what a laboratory bench should look like before the experiment. You're not at the market, Miss Gray, and this is not an apple stand. A cauldron, Mr. Savage, is not a top hat, and unless you're going to put it on your head, it shouldn't be upside down. Miss Smith, your passion for books has no place here. Stash this impressive stack in your bag if you don't want to sublimate the paper.
Okay, infection! Watching the flow of polite malice when, for a change, it was not directed at you, turned out to be a fascinating experience. I was tempted to ask for a master class.
“Mr. Obley,” the professor stopped at the table and now looked at the unfortunate bungler, who had just come out of the storage room, like a boa constrictor at a rabbit. ? he froze on the threshold, gently pressing a glass structure made of a flask, a glass and some tubes to his chest – obviously, the same sublimation apparatus. A large red apple miraculously held onto the narrow neck of the flask.
– Good afternoon, Professor Norwood.
– You give me hope that there is still constancy in this world. Get off the floor and, please, bring this surrealist still life to the table intact.
I moved to the far corner of the class, again at Charlotte’s prompting. “We will have to monitor safety, there could be an explosion. From the professor's place it is difficult to control the entire laboratory, this edge is on you. I’ll help you today, then you’ll be on your own.”
"Explosion?!" – I can’t say that the prospect of explosions made me happy. Moreover, Mr. Obley, from whom one should expect trouble in the first place, was sitting much closer to me than to the professor. And very close was the place of Mr. Applestone, who was already quite openly looking sideways at my, Charlotte’s, tits.
“So,” the professor walked around the class, and the students froze, afraid, it seemed, even to breathe. He knows how to… hold an audience. In fear. Perhaps it's a shame for Charlotte to complain compared to this. – I believe that even in brains that were baked or dried out over the summer, the idea should have appeared to familiarize yourself with the topic of the lesson in advance. If you didn’t even have enough for this, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. We don't have much time to spend repeating theory. Are there anyone in the class who did not receive credit for aggregate states? – the question struck so sharply that even I flinched.