Clarice and Hank

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Beast comes to Clarice with a glitterous proposition and promptly manages to insult her professional pride and disgust her with mental images. He's not quite sure how he became so talented.



"My name is Dick Cheese!" a lounge singer-esque voice blared out the door of Clarice's living room and a hyper 'clack clack clack' underscored it off beat as Hank headed through the dorm halls.

Hank had enjoyed his talk with Scott, and serious as most of it had been, one jolly idea had stuck with him. And... well, while it did sound like Clarice was busy, it didn't sound like she couldn't be interrupted. He tapped on the door and leaned around it. "Hello?" he said over the noise. "May I have a moment?"

"Hi!" she repsonded, speaking around the pins in her mouth. Awkwardly, she motioned with one hand to come in and looked towards the CD player. "I'd get up, but I have to make sure the seams are straight," she explained, yards of swirly fabric draped around her and in the sewing machine.

"But of course!" He sat down out of the way, listening with amusement to the music. "I can wait until you're done, if you like. No hurry." The music was actually quite good... or at least, interesting to listen to, which came to more or less the same thing for Hank.

"No, it's all good. I can take a break," Clarice carefully situated her fabric and dropped her pins on the little magnet holder before turning to face her teacher. "What's up?"

He grinned impishly. "I was wondering," he said seriously, "if I might be able to arrange a small commission. I'd like you to make me something, if possible... I'd supply the necessary materials and so on, of course."

"A's on my next two math and physics test?" Clarice asked, pretty sure he wouldn't agree. She had pulled solid B's in both classes the previous semester, but couldn't quite make the A's she wanted, even with tutoring. "And I would need elastic."

"I'll refill your glitter supplies instead." He grinned. "And you'll need a lot of sequins, as well as elastic." He sighed dramatically. "It's Boiler Beach. Here we are, in the middle of winter, and suddenly it's swimsuit season again! And I haven't a THING to wear!" He grinned. "I know sequins on shorts is a daring combination, but..."

"I think you can pull it off," she smiled, an evil glint in her eye, "Not all men can, but you have that....whaddaya call it? Flamingly straight, thing going. But I need a lot of glitter."

"Oh, of course." He grinned. "I thought perhaps yellow shorts, with yellow and blue sequins? Something tasteful, but flashy, that'll only cause *mild* trauma in your fellow students but great hilarity among my fellow staff."

Looking away for a moment, Clarice ported a long plastic box onto the coffee table. Opening it, she rummaged through carefully folded yards of material, "Something like this?" she asked, pulling out a piece of yellow spandex, "I have blue and red in here too somewhere, I used the green though. I would have to do two layers probably, one of this and one of sequins."

Hank beamed. "Perfect!" He grinned wickedly. "Since I will be a latecomer to the Boiler Beach, I simply MUST make a suitable splash." He laughed. "Also, Scott doesn't think I'm going to do it. So, of course, I must."

"You know...you could give him a matching one," she couldn't pass up a chance to make silly at Mr. Summers. Especially since he was so goofy on the beach.

"But he wouldn't wear it." Hank grinned evilly. "I, however, will. Right out in public. I aim to make at least one person choke on their own spit, if I have to outright frolic to do it."

"Gah!" Clarice covered her eyes in mock pain, "I did not need that image! Ah! Ew! Someone attacks and you're frolicking in the flowers!"

"No, frolicking on the *beach*. Under the admiring eyes of some of the many ladies the mansion offers." He grinned. "And possibly making the male students shrieke and attempt to gouge out their own eyes."

Rolling her eyes, Clarice pulled out the spandex she needed and sent the rest of the box back to her room, "Oh great," she muttered, "More medlab work. You're supposed to heal, not cause more pain, Dr. McCoy!"

"It's good for them. It builds character." Hank grinned. "And should you fancy any of them yourself, you may attend to them personally, how does that sound?" He grinned. "I suspect I, myself, will be treating Madelyn for oxygen deprivation brought on by laughing too hard."

"Ooohh..." Clarice grinned, there was a boy or five she was interested in, "Right. Better bring some paper bags with you, then. The inhaler machine would be a dead giveaway."

"But of course. Subtlety is the word." He grinned. "Fortunately, I happen to have a suitably flashy short satin robe to wear over it, when I go in, before throwing it aside to reveal the true splendor of my costume." He was definitely going to make a production out of this. And make sure that both Scott and Madelyn were there to appreciate it.

"Can I sell tickets?" oh this was going to be evil. It was going to be good.

"If you wish, although not too many. A great crowd at the beach might tip those whom I wish to surprise - Scott, for example - off to the fact that something is up." He grinned evilly. "Anyone you particularly want traumatized, however... or to resuscitate."

Blushing maroon, Clarice turned back to her sewing machine and rifled under the table, "Bring me glitter and supplies, I'll have it finished a day later, baring excitement. Get at least 3 yards of all material too," she instructed, pulling out a tape measure and a pattern. "Now, measurements..."

holding out his hand for the tape-measure. He was more or less used to being measured from top to toe on a regular basis, since he had most of his clothes made for him, but NOT by a student. "Which measurements do you require?"

"No way, Dr. McCoy, first rule is you can't meausure yourself," Clarice stood firmly, holding the tape away from from him, "Just like you can't self-diagnose. And we don't tell tales outside of the medlab or people's measurements."

"Young lady," Hank said as firmly as he could, blushing even harder and VERY glad that it didn't show through blue fur and dark blue skin, "I am *perfectly* capable of measuring myself, precisely and carefully. I *am* a scientist."

"And you don't perform experiments on yourself either," she retorted, annoyed. He came to her for clothing and wouldn't let her work properly! "Either I get your measurements or you get them from your tailor and everything fits or I guess and it looks like shit. And I'll make sure everyone knows why."

"I'll get them from my tailor," he said hastily. "Because with no offense intended, my dear, I have no desire to get lynched when someone finds out that I walked in here with the express purpose of having you... measure... my nether regions!"

"Oh get over yourself!" this was too much, even from a teacher, "If I wanted to use sewing as a ploy to feel anyone up, I'd've done it a long time ago. But no offense, I'm purple and you're blue and furry. Nothing doing. And besides," she said offhand, "You're old enough to be my dad."

"I intended no offense, my dear," Hank said seriously, blushing very hard. "I just... well... you are, had I been very adventurous at your age, young enough to be my daughter, and... well, although it never occurred to me that you might actually feel me up, as you put it, the notion was still a rather embarrassing one. And certainly rather improper, given my status as a teacher."

"Right. Fine. Whatever. Go get my stuff, then we'll talk," she was pissed. He may have been a teacher and a doctor in the medlab, but he appearantly did not know her at all.

"Clarice..." Hank sighed. "I'm sorry I offended you," he said gently. "I was trying *not* to. As amusing as I find the idea, and as much as I look forward to it, I didn't want it to make you feel at all uncomfortable in any way. I certainly didn't want you to feel as if you had do... well." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Even look in that direction, really. As a teacher, it would be absolutely inexcusable of me to ask such a thing. I certainly didn't mean to cast any aspersions on your intentions..."

"I work in the medlab, I know what goes on and, more importantly, what comes off, you know that Dr. McCoy. And if you think I'd ever even think about being unprofessional about anything like this, ever, don't have me. I'll make your shorts, I said I would, but nothing else, okay?" glaring at him, she crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't going to accept his apology so easily, he should have thought of these things earlier.

"I didn't mean to imply that you would be unprofessional, Clarice." He sighed. "I just didn't want you to think that *I* was, either. The last thing I'd want is to make you uncomfortable, in any way. But I'm sorry I phrased it badly."

"Fine," she grudgingly accepted, for once she wasn't apologizing, but it didn't feel right having a teacher apologize like this to her. Even though she was right. "Okay. Shorts. Glitter."

"Right." Hank nodded, relieved. "Fabric, sequins, and glitter, to be provided by me... unless you'd rather select them yourself and just have me pay for it? I suspect your taste in such matters is better than mine." He paused. "Do you know, for all my history of pranking and general gaudy behaviour, I don't think I've ever purchased even one sequin."

"Terrible," she noted, "though not surprising. Okay, then. To the store. That'll take longer, with classes and all."

Hank nodded. "Whatever works out best for you," he said, hoping she wasn't still annoyed. He wasn't exactly sure how that had happened. "There's no rush... although I am looking forward to it." He grinned. "Scott is going to just die."