xp_logs | What Is The Arabic For Dork? [Nathan and Monet]

Nathan decides to ask Monet if she's interested in language classes over summer.

Nathan blinked at the sight of Monet sprawled elegantly on the couch, a stack of fashion magazines and catalogs the height of a small child at her elbow. "Planning a new wardrobe?" he asked, lingering at the doorway.

Monet looked over the top of the Vogue at him. "Just keeping up. It's hard to stay up to date, I have to put the effort in," she informed him. "No one around here seems to care what they're wearing." She started back to her magazine, then stopped. "Did you want a look?" she offered, doubtfully. Never let it be said that Monet wasn't willing to help a true fashion disaster.

"I think I'm a lost cause, Monet," Nathan said lightly, hobbling over to one of the chairs and sitting down. "Although Moira does try, every so often. "He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment as she went back to flicking through the magazine. "I was wondering if you were interested in either of the language courses I'm doing this summer. Mandarin and Arabic?"

"Why?" Monet asked curiously over the glossy pages.

Nathan shrugged. "Well, I gather you're going to be here over the summer. I thought you might want to take advantage of the opportunity." He paused, then tried reason number sixteen for 'Why learning a foreign language is Good'. "Either would be useful if you ever plan to travel in those parts of the world."

Monet looked at him for a long moment. One of the reasons for the magazine binge, aside from her natural interest in all things fashionable, was hearing from her stern father that they didn't trust her at home all winter by herself whilst her parents worked and her sisters were at school. The chance to seen them for a while later in summer didn't seem to completely take the sting off that.

"My grandparents speak Arabic," she said slowly.

"Might be a way to get in touch with part of your heritage" Nathan said, mildly but encouragingly. "It's not a bad language to study, either, and there are enough other people taking the class that we can do some real conversational practice."

Monet rolled her eyes. "As if there's anyone with anything interesting to have a conversation about," she scoffed, going back to her book. "Oh, and if I have time I might pick up Mandarin."

"You'd be welcome in both," Nathan said with a faint smile, not taking offense. The snarkiness was defensive, he suspected. He wasn't about to get caught up in paying attention to that and neglect the fact that yes, she was showing interest in both of his courses. "And I have a wide variety of interesting, humorous, and obscene stories from my travels in the parts of the world where those languages are spoke, so maybe I can liven up the conversation a little."

"That sounds like it won't totally suck," Monet conceded. "You must be really bored to be volunteering to teach when you could be doing anything else." She considered him carefully. "Are you sure you don't want a magazine? I've read that one already." She pointed at one sitting by itself on the floor.

"I'd rather teach than get stuck as a guidance counselor or something equally appalling," Nathan confided with a subdued grin, then eyed the magazine speculatively. "Wouldn't know what to make of it," he confessed, and then had what struck him as a rather brilliant idea. "Don't suppose you could give me any tips?" He asked cannily. "Moira's got so much on her plate these days. She doesn't have much time to correct my fashion sense."

Monet sat up, resting her magazine on her lap and looked him up and down doubtfully. "Um. How many tips?" she asked. "Because this could take time."

"Maybe just a couple, to start me off with?" Nathan suggested and gave her his best woeful look. "I mean, I'm sure it'd take me a while just to follow the tips. Like I said, totally clueless fashion disaster here..."

Monet rolled her eyes. "Stop being a dork, for one," she said. "And you could do something with your hair. And don't wear those shoes ever again. Everything else depends on what you need help for."

"I'm a dork?" Nathan said innocently.

Monet shook her head. "Completely. And now you're doing it on purpose. I guess someone told you it was cute." She didn't look like she agreed.

"It usually gets me what I want," Nathan said with a perfect straight face. "And what's wrong with my hair?"

Monet's hands fluttered in non-descriptive shapes of misfortunate hair design. "It's just. And no." She shook her head at him. "It makes you look like an ex-football player," she managed eventually.

"I'll keep that in mind," Nathan said, trying not to snicker. "And I really shouldn't ask you to try and salvage the unsalvageable. So I'm putting your name on the list for the Arabic, to start with?"

"That's fine," Monet nodded, lying back down. "You can go bother other people for your classes now."

"Plan to," Nathan said amiably, pushing himself up out of the chair. "I have a list. And the details about where and when the class will be should be available shortly."

Monet nodded, then looked up. "If you want me to hook you up with a hair dresser, let me know," she said, quickly.

Nathan couldn't help a smile, a broad, genuine one with no hint of mockery to it. "I appreciate that, Monet," he said. "I'll let you know."