-- WHAT LIVES IN OUR MIND && [thaddea]

Thaddea's meticulous and methodical movements and actions didn't phase him in the least, partially because he'd been taking her class long enough to grow accustomed to it but also because these odd little elements of an individual's personality rarely bothered him. He accepted people for what they were as long as they didn't try to manipulate or annoy him and he expected the exact same thing in return. If he didn't get it, well, then they were going to have a problem. That she had papers on the desk in front of her clued Josh in to the fact that she might have been doing something important when he'd entered the room and so he thought that it would only be polite to make sure he wasn't being a pain in her side. He wasn't a suck up that would assume the role of a teacher's pet but he liked to ensure that he made few enemies among the faculty. Graduation was close enough that he could taste it and the ambitious Fire would be damned if he let anything or anyone get in his way.

Six minutes? Damn. He'd been hoping for something a little less brief in case something serious came up as a result of his questions but he wasn't going to argue with her. He couldn't control her schedule any more than she could control his academic paranoia. Guess I'd better make this quick. Maybe it would be better off this way. If he knew he was on a time limit it would stop him from going overboard. He rarely let himself sound desperate or overly concerned, no matter what he was feeling on the inside, but he didn't want to sound like he was trying to get brownie points, either. People of that sort exasperated him. Did they think it was cute to act as everyone's lap dog? Deciding to start right in on what he wanted, he said, "How much of the grade is this paper counting toward?" To ensure she didn't think he'd totally spaced out during her overview of it, he added, "I remember your telling us that it was a major paper but I was wondering exactly how crucial it's going to be." He didn't want to fail. He didn't want his work to be anything but perfect. All right, so even Joshua understood that his chances of failing a course were slim to none. Even subjects he disliked (and history was not one of them) could be conquered with enough hours spent awake and dedicated to studying. Perfection was another can of worms entirely. Perfection required real effort.

Effort, of course, was something that Joshua was always willing to put in. No matter how big or how small a project or paper, he threw everything he had into it and tried to do his best possible. It was in his belief that while an intelligent person might be able to breeze through school, such laziness wasn't commendable. His best friend was of lazier intellect and while Josh would never insult Devin or try to change him, it was not the sort of lifestyle that he himself wished to live. He was confident, certainly, but he was determined not to become over-confident in his smarts and his chances at success. It was those with too much pride and ego that always ended up failing in the end. He appreciated Professor Melantha's classes because in her strict grading process she forced him to reconsider himself, she made him work hard for the success that he craved. Every assignment was a challenge that he tackled with fervour and this one had been no different.

In Joshua's opinion, perfection was not a competition with others but a competition with himself. In order to reach the pinnacle of his abilities, he strove to continuously best his past accomplishments until it was impossible to claw his way to a higher point. He couldn't rest after he reached the top. Instead he was forced to maintain whatever level of perfection he'd managed to achieve. Unlike many, his desire to do his best had nothing to do with pressure placed on him by his family. His parents were supportive of his dreams of medical school and they'd certainly never complained when he'd returned home with perfect report cards as a child but they had never pushed him toward anything he did not want to do. The urge to do better came from within himself, an ambitious streak that he'd carried with him since a very young age. Where artists were skilled with a brush and the talent of a musician lay with their instrument, academics was his niche. His classmates in middle school might have been better than him at sports, they might have had more friends, but the fact that he'd managed to stay at the top of the class throughout the entire experience (sometimes alone, sometimes tied with one or two others) told Joshua that he was smarter than they were. That he stood facing his professor now with an honest concern for how much this paper was going to affect his grades proved that he had changed little from the eight year old boy who had proclaimed to his father with utmost certainty that he was going to be a doctor some day.

College was harder than high school had been, especially with a double major. It was not so easy to sail through his courses, he couldn't pass with flying colours without batting an eyelash. No, he had to earn his perfection in college. Rather than making him feel stressed, it spurred him into doing better than ever. A challenge was something that the Fire graduate would rarely turn down. Life was a challenge to him, every turn offering a new hurdle to jump, a new puzzle to solve. His gray eyes were sharp with intelligence and concentration as he took in the words. Eighteen percent. It was a lot, he didn't need calculations to tell him that. The very number struck a chord, a mixture of determination and wariness surging through him. He couldn't stop working until it was flawless, then. A single spelling error would not even be tolerated if it was so crucial to his grade. Not that Joshua allowed spelling errors in his work regardless of the difficulty. He had passed all his years of English without a struggle, it would be an embarrassment to his pride if he were to hand in anything that reflected otherwise. "Noted." He didn't sound worried but the obsessive urge to excel could almost be detected as an edge to his tone. He was about to open his mouth and confirm her question when she shifted to open a drawer in her desk and he thought better of speaking and simply watched her with a curious and expectant gaze.

He wondered what it was that Thaddea was writing but simply waited, figuring that he'd get his answer soon enough. He took the paper when it was offered to him, realising what it was that she'd done and directing his attention back to her. "Thank you." He was not alarmingly talkative and he didn't spill fountains of gratitude but the simple words were usually enough. This should help. He didn't watch a lot of television, preferring to find his sources through the library rather than a screen or a search engine, but he would watch this one for the sole reason that Professor Melantha had suggested it and he trusted her judgement. He still had time left before she had to go back to whatever it was she had been doing and he certainly didn't plan on letting it go to waste, so he said, "I'm not sure if you're allowed to disclose, Professor, but I don't suppose anyone else has chosen the same topic?" He did not sound hopeful but he certainly felt it. When he was given a choice of what topic to write about, Josh preferred to stick out from the rest of his classmates. If two people elected to write about the same things, the one whose writing style appealed more to the professor would always come out on top, he'd be willing to bet. It was why he preferred to write about things that were unique to him, at least for the assignment. The topic he'd chosen was not easy to research due to the secrecy surrounding the country but that didn't deter him. If no one else took on the challenge, he was more than willing to tackle it himself.

At her words, Joshua's lips tightened ever so slightly. He was not irritated but determined. When do I ever give anything less? He did not respond verbally to the words, did not think that she expected him to. Instead he gave her a nod and would have indeed chosen to depart the room at that moment if it had not been for the other question that was nagging at the back of his mind. The Fire graduate was not aware of the fact that his professor assumed him to be done with their conversation, else he might have taken it as a sign that it might be a good idea to leave. He did not like to hang around when he got the sense that he was not wanted in a room, mostly because he would not give the other person the satisfaction of sneering down at him. Then again, Thaddea had never done anything of the sort and he liked that she kept things professional and curt. He was a very to-the-point person and didn't often go out of his way to ramble and take random stabs at conversation. She did not try to keep him longer than was necessary and he was cordial and polite enough to return the favour.

He didn't think that the discussion of a paper counted as unnecessary, though, and that was the reason that he didn't leave immediately after being handed the helpful documentary hint with his question about the grade percentage answered. He wouldn't have been concerned about the cramped time limit if it were not for the fact that his reasons for dropping by weren't so simple as curiosities about the grade. He could have lived without that information alone, perhaps. He was not offended as her attention went back to her paper. So long as he got the answer that he wanted, she could be completely refusing to acknowledge him by this point. He would consider it rude but it would not truly irritate him. His temper was easily ignited but such trivial things were not counted as triggers. "I'd figured," he confirmed, unashamed. "I merely wanted to confirm." He did not thank her again, not wanting to wear out the words. He was not big on apologies and he didn't like thanking someone more than once. You can never be too careful. He was going to stand out if it killed him. He did not suck up and did not beg for higher marks so he had to ensure that his work was enough to shine through on its own without any ass-kissing required. Not that Thaddea seemed the type of professor that would appreciate a student trying to suck up to her to receive a better grade. No, it seemed like his professor would sooner do the opposite. Which was good in his eyes. He would hate to see someone else get higher marks than him not because of talent but because of connections.

He was not often questioned about his methods and so he did not answer immediately, giving a pause to think of how and if he should put it into words at all. It was a personal question, or at least it felt personal to Joshua, and that was a boundary for him. He did not like to justify himself. It sounded as if she thought he sought approval and reassurance, though, and it was this misconception that ultimately drove him into answering. "I don't want to be coddled or reassured." His temper created the slightest hint of an edge to his tone, though he did a good job at keeping it under control. He had to show respect in front of the staff so long as they did not prove themselves undeserving of it, else he might have enemies in a place where he did not need nor want them. "With all due respect, I don't plan to undermine my own intelligence. Being anxious for success and fearing it impossible are two very different things." He did not want to sound like he was bragging with his words but he felt he had a right to defend his good work thus far. Thaddea had not suggested that he sought reassurance because he was stupid, no, but Joshua did not like the suggestion that he doubted himself in any way. I'm my worst critic but even a critic knows quality when they see it. "I expect my work will speak for itself, I simply needed clarification." Arrogance was not something that he often possessed and now was no exception. No, it was confidence that kept his tone level and his gaze serious. If he did not think himself intelligent he'd have never set his sights on the ambition of becoming a doctor.

He did not notice the way that she stiffened for it was not something he was searching for. Joshua was a perceptive person and he tried his best not to let things slip by him but there was a difference between being observant and being omniscient. He did not know to look for the reaction to his temper. He did not know that she would notice, for he was incredibly adept at hiding most things from most people. Anger was, of the few emotions that managed to slip past his barriers, the one that foiled him the most often. A bad temper did not like to cower behind the barrier of bricks and steel that made up the walls of his mind. It liked to burst forth into the open like a raging blaze, reined in by nothing. Sometimes Joshua had no problems with allowing his rage to erupt without restraint, revelling in the adrenaline and the release. It was especially satisfying when the cause of his outburst shrank away from him in surprise or fear, perhaps both. He was not a sadistic individual, he did not live and breathe to inflict suffering upon others, but when pushed to a certain point he could not help but to delight in what felt a little like revenge. In setting him off, his accidental victim deserved what fright he gave. Thaddea was not one such person. He did not want to alarm her, did not wish to intimidate her, and certainly did not want to set her off in return. For not everyone reacted to anger with fear. Some lashed out with anger of their own and it was those few that posed the real challenge. Joshua liked a challenge, yes, but now was not the time nor the place to be challenging the alphess in her den.

While he had not been focusing on her physical reactions enough to notice anything off, Josh was concentrating intently on her tone when she replied to him. He was searching for anything off, anything that might suggest he had stepped on the wrong toes, pushed the wrong buttons. He could not detect anything but the clipped formality that could be heard. His gray eyes were locked on hers and while he was not glaring, they were still sharp and alert. The temper that had been ignited crackled in the background, no longer the focus of his thoughts but still lingering in the background. It took a long time to calm the fires of his fury and Joshua was acutely aware of their presence. "Exactly." It was all that he said, all that he felt needed to be said. He was not someone that would open his mouth and unleash a fountain of pointless babbling. He didn't hate the sound of his own voice but he didn't delight in it either, not like some. If one word was enough, well, then one word it would be. "It's relevant to me." He knew what he meant, he knew what he felt. He knew that the occasional clarification that he sought was something that helped him. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it did for him—she was right, it wasn't usually applied to the paper itself—but it did something and that was all the self-assurance he needed to bring him back again and again. He did not go for every assignment, every paper. He did not want to come across as a desperate, brown-nosed, needy suck-up. That was not who he was. But some of them struck a chord. This was one of them.

A short, sharp huff of breath that was neither a sigh nor a scoff left his lips. A noise of frustration that he did not bother trying to conceal. Personal questions were a source of great discomfort. That discomfort was not at all evident, manifesting as the anger that Thaddea had picked up on instead. Many things that he felt and experienced elicited a response from him that translated into anger. He was not incapable of expressing other emotion, it simply didn't make it past his barriers like the anger could. "No, I wouldn't. I perform to the best of my abilities no matter how much an assignment is worth." He did not expect Thaddea to understand how his brain worked. They were similar in some ways with a desire for perfection but no two people were exactly the same. Even twins had their differences. Psychology could predict patterns but it was near impossible to know every facet of an individual's personality. Josh was no exception. Neither, he knew, was she. He did not try to understand people. Not fully. "It has to do with setting goals. Structure. Reminder." He did not know if that was a good enough explanation but didn't bother at an attempt to elaborate. It was a motivator, in a way. If he knew that eighteen percent was what he was going to achieve, he had something to strive toward, as opposed to an unknown number that he only knew as 'a large part of the grade'. Eighteen percent would now become a part of the mantra he repeated to himself as he worked.

As a relatively sharp individual, he enjoyed grasping things quickly without much need to fumble around and ask for elaboration. It was for that reason, after all, that his questions had so little to do with the assignment itself and more to do with the facts surrounding the grade and the standard that he was going to need to set for himself. If he was given a certain piece of information and told that it was important, he would commit that piece to memory as if it were as sacred as the meaning of life itself. He had his good memory to thank for a lot of things in his life. Intelligent as he was, however, Thaddea had still managed to mildly confuse him. It did not show on his face but it must have in his words, for it became clear to them both that they were on different pages about the subject. "Then why ask?" It had been the unofficial inquiry, not worded as a question but certainly implied as one, that had thrown him off balance. If she knew that they were in agreement, why had she wondered at his need for the information? Why did it matter? He tried not to think too much on the matter. It was a question that he could not answer himself, as he was not inside of her head, and so it wouldn't do to get too worked up over it. Lack of information had always been the bane of his existence. He liked to have an explanation for all the things in the world. It was the reason that he did not believe in religion, in the paranormal, in the existence of extraterrestrials. Until there was proof, he would be forever in doubt. So in not understanding Thaddea's meaning, he was set on edge for a moment.

A compliment? It had not been a direct compliment and so his anger had forced his focus on the word 'reassurance'. The rage made him irrational and he would latch onto whatever it was that was causing his problem, allowing all other things of importance to fade into the background until he had confronted the source of his ire. The anger was one thing in his life that he'd never been able to control. He had control over his grades, over his fitness, over his own emotions... with the exception of the anger. So when she'd said the wrong thing without even realising the trigger, it had set him off. He was not willing to admit this, of course, because Joshua was also a man of pride and pride did not allow for the admission of mistakes. He also wouldn't apologise, for he hadn't been entirely rude and didn't think it warranted an apology. Even if it had, she wouldn't have received one. Instead, he considered the last words she'd spoken and then nodded. "If that was how it was intended, then that's how I'll take it." He wasn't humble or shy about compliments—not in the least. He knew that he was capable of turning in exceptional works and so he didn't duck his head or try to insist otherwise. Only a fool did that, in his mind. It frustrated him when he tried to tell someone they were good at something and they denied his claim. On the other hand, he also didn't appreciate braggarts. Egotistical folk made him want to punch things. A lot of things invoked that desire, to be fair, but it was one of them.

She had turned her attention to the papers before her and he turned his to the clock. His time was not quite up but his purpose for being here had expired and he had no desire to linger any longer than necessary. Already his mind was racing with ideas for the writing that he would need to do. He also had a documentary to watch, for despite his mild frustration with Thaddea based on their misunderstanding, his opinion of her had not changed. He was an angry person but that did not mean his anger always preceded hate or even dislike. "I'll leave you to what you were doing, then, Professor." It was a way of announcing that he was going to take his leave now. He wanted to get to the library anyway. Tomorrow was his next class with her and while he certainly wouldn't have the paper done by then, he hoped to have a nice start on it. A start that might end up completely different by the end. He was fussy and picky when it came to his word, such were the woes of the perfectionist. He didn't give her any other kind of thanks due to the fact that he'd already thanked her for the help she'd given him but instead left the room and strode down the hall. There was a stiffness and a tension in his shoulders that bothered the Fire, not that it was an unfamiliar feeling. He had been wound up and while the reason for his ire had passed, the symptoms would not die down until a little later.

[This can end with your post, maybe?]