Marie-Ange/Moira/Fish Heads

[x-mactaggart.livejournal.com]

Marie-Ange blinked, trying to shake the heavy feeling of fatigue from her eyes. She was -not- going to fall asleep in Biology. Certainly not with a pile of baby shark guts six inches from her hands, and, hey, there was an idea.

Never let it be said that inspiration made any sense. With a flash of her pen, a line of cartoon fish-no-shark heads were doodled on the margin of her notebook. Unfortunately, doodling wasn't getting her anywhere, she was still tired - and later, she would insist it seemed like a really brilliantly funny idea.

One by one, the half-dozen ghostly heads on their fishy little skeletons formed on the table, and began a well-coordinated can-can over the lab table. Marie-Ange bit down on her lip, forcing back a snicker, intent on dissolving the images as soon as Dr. MacTaggart turned away from the wipe-off board.

She was a second too late.

"...Marie-Ange...would ye be kind enough ta tell me -why- ye 'ad six dancin' fish 'eads on yer desk? I'm sure I'd be thrilled ta find out." Moira raised an eyebrow and crossed her eyes, eyeing the residuals of Marie-Ange's power fade away.

~Merde.~ Marie-Ange's face took on the universal expression of 'Shit. Now what do I do?' "Sorry, Dr. MacTaggart. It.. was helping keep me awake?" She ducked her head, faintly embarrassed - more at getting caught out than anything.

Moira sighed. She'd suspected as much but didn't want to get into the details of keeping her student awake in front of the class. "Ye think ye can stay awake lon' enough fer me class ta get over wit'? Ye fall asleep an' the rest'll probably follow."

"The rest of the class had two hours of sleep last night too, and nightmares about swarms of bugs attacking the city?" Marie-Ange knew better than to mouth off. She knew she knew better. She was just too tired to care, and the smell of stinky shark guts wasn't helping.

Moira's other eyebrow joined the other one. "Really, now," she drawled, watching Marie-Ange closely. She liked the girl but lines had to be drawn. Especially in this house.

She didn't believe her. All those nights with her head in the little brain-reading machine, and now, when it counted, Dr. MacTaggart thought she was lying? Oh, that was just not going to go over well one bit. "Oui. Really. I'm sure the little brain-reading machine recorded that I did not sleep, but I guess everyone has been too busy worrying about demons and ninjas and aliens dropping in for tea to check."

Moira simply rolled her eyes to the heavens and prayed for some alien attack right then. Bitchy, PMSing, far-seeing students she did not need. She walked over to Marie-Ange's desk and leaned over. "I believe that yer nay sleepin'," she commented sweetly. "I also believe I'm twice yer age, yer teacher an' th' person who jus' ordered ye an assload o' equipment ta 'elp ye...I enjoy mouthiness ta an extent, but nay in me class room." Her smile widened. "Ms. Colbert, I believe later on Mr. Marko may 'ave a special exercise for ye. Keep yer time slot open.":

Detention with the guy who worked for the Big Red Eyeball. Lovely. Well, it couldn't get worse. "Does this mean I can sleep?" Marie-Ange asked, smiling sheepishly.