“I have no qualms about a female Doctor. I just want to get her pregnant, get a show with her son up and running, then kill her off and focus on her much more powerful male replacement. But just to be clear, no qualms at all.”
…He was careless to think nobody would find him out. However, anything involving his most enigmatic student is bound to blow up in his face at some point. Amazing how he put so much effort into everything except his schoolwork.
Then again, the other students don’t have a ghostly alter-ego.
It was a Friday afternoon, the final bell had rung ten minutes ago. Edward Lancer was finishing up some last minute grading in his office when he heard a knock. Thinking it was another professor he gave permission to enter. Imagine his surprise when in comes Daniel Fenton looking terrified but determined. He raises an eyebrow hoping it has nothing to do with an ectoplasmic being.
“Hello Mr. Fenton, what can I do for you this fine Friday afternoon?”
He studies the troublemaker. Shifty eyed, sweaty, twiddling his fingers. Suspicious doesn’t begin to describe the aura wafting off of the boy. He asks him what’s wrong and that it’s ok, he won’t get in trouble as long as he tells him. What comes out of the boy’s mouth might as well be gibberish.
“To Kill a Mockingbird Mr. Fenton, if you want me to understand what you just said you have to slow down and breath. Now please try again”
“Will you team up with me and my friends so we can finally beat doomed?”
And queue the sweating. He becomes a bit pale at the boy’s request. Impossible. Nobody except his closest circle of friends knows he’s an avid gamer. He’ll have to play dumb.
“I’m sorry Mr. Fenton, I’m not sure what that is”
“C'mon Mr. Lancer, I know you play, I’ve seen you on the servers! Your handle is Lancelot, (which is honestly not very creative) and you’re actually pretty good. So me, Sam and Tucker were wondering if you would team up with us?”
He sighs, he’s been caught redhanded. He could refuse, there’s no shame in that. But the look on Daniel’s face is enough to make his resolve waver. Maybe this would be a good opportunity to express his concerns on Daniel’s Ghostly dealings.
“Alright Mr. Fenton, you’ve caught me. I wouldn’t mind helping you and your friends, however, this must stay between us, understand?”
“No problem Mr. Lancer, thanks you so much, be online at five PM Saturday, we’ll talk strategies and battle plans then. Bye and thanks again!”
In a whirlwind of excitement the boy exits. He sighs. What has he just gotten himself into. No matter, what’s done is done. He’ll have to prepare, there are many upgrades and new weapons he must equip. If he’s gonna help them beat the game, he’ll have to be armed to the teeth.
Saturday finally rolls around and he’s early. Getting in some practice before the others arrive. It’s been a while since he last had a chance to play. After about five minutes the others arrive. He’s uncharacteristically nervous. He makes his way over.
“Wow, I didn’t think you would show, Mr. Lancer”
“Hey, you have no room to talk Lancelot”
They go over the plan, every level and every quest. Who’s abilities to use when. The whole nine yards. Incredible the strategic abilities they have. Then again, they have to if they’re gonna help Daniel protect the town. Now would be a good time to try and broach the subject.
“I’m a bit curious, why the handle Ghost Boy?”
He can see him tense. Ah, he needs to be careful, lest he push the boy away. He tells him that it’s an inside joke between his friends. He doesn’t push it. They continue slaughtering the competition. Mr. Foley is surprised by his abilities in combat. Secretly he is pleased that his students would think him somewhat cool.
“Ok people, I have to say something, now that we’ve found a safe zone I think it appropriate. I know, about Phantom”
At first there’s no reaction. Then Daniel’s eyes grow comically wide. Foley and Manson look apprehensive, tending as though ready for a fight. He tries to keep a straight face as he continues.
“I have been aware of you for some time, however I am very concerned that you’re over doing it. Your more tired than usual, notice how I don’t call you out in class anymore? I know you need the rest. I’m only confronting you about this because I am worried that you’ll wither away into nothing. I appreciate everything you do for this town and honestly, I am proud to call you my student. I haven’t told anyone and I won’t. I just was to help in any way that I can, and I want you to know you can talk to me if you need to.”
They are all stunned into silence. He couldn’t tell what they were thinking. All he could hear was his heart beating in his ears. Then Daniel did the most unexpected thing. He started crying. Immediately Foley and Manson are at his side, comforting him. Panicked, Lancer tries to backpedal, maybe he said something wrong. Then almost too feint for him to hear Daniel says the last thing he expected.
Then the word vomit starts. He just vents about everything. From the accident that made him this way to the battle that happened earlier this morning. It’s amazing that he’s been dealing with this for almost an entire year. Technically alone, because Foley and Manson are just as surprised by some of the things he said as I am.
After he calmed down and got it all off his chest we give him time to compose himself. I’m honestly even more concerned. However it is a huge leap forward that he felt he could let himself go in front of me. He looks up at me, eyes puffy and red rimmed. I can only assume I was making a strange expression because he burst out laughing. His friends are just as confused as I am.
“Thanks Mr. Lancer. You’re the best you know that?”
Catcher in the Rye, now he’s getting misty eyed. The feeling of accomplishment is overwhelming. He got Daniel to open up to him, trust him with his secret AND accept his offer all in the span of one afternoon. He will do everything he can to help Daniel in every way possible. Even if it means tweaking his grades a bit.
“Alright people, battle stations, I do believe we have a game to finish.”
Mrs Grundy is a figurative name for an extremely conventional or priggish person, a personification of the tyranny of conventional propriety. A tendency to be overly fearful of what the respectable might think is also referred to as grundyism. - source: wikipedia