Isaac chuckles.
"Stubbornly sticking to my beliefs is my specialty," he replies.
He thinks about her question, then moves so they can start walking.
He looks up at the city-muted sky and for the longest time he's silent.
He glances over at her, and flushes slightly.
"Well. . . do you read?" he asks.
Farah smiled faintly. “It’s an admirable quality,” she complimented.
As he moved out of her way, they began walking again. Farah waited for an answer to her question, and she noticed him looking up at the sky. It looked beautiful, so she took out her phone and snapped a quick picture of it. Just as she was pocketing the device, Isaac spoke.
Farah feigned offense for a moment. “Do I read?” she asked incredulously. Then she realized she knew what his job was and he didn’t know hers. She shook her head and smiled. “I’m a literature professor. Yes, I read. Quite often.”
Isaac laughs faintly.
"Thanks," he nods.
He flinches and looks confused. Had he forgotten something she'd said to him? Maybe. . . he wasn't sure now. . .
When she clarifies and seems calmer, he blushes and shakes his head.
"Of course you're a professor. . . and of literature. You do have a bookish sort of face, you know. What's your favorite book?" he asks.
Farah blushed at his remarks. “I’m afraid I don’t know,” she replied, a little smile pulling at her lips. “Do enlighten me.”
She could have seen the question coming from a mile away. It was nearly everyone’s first question when they found out what Farah did for a living. Frankly she was used to it by now, so she had her default answer ready. She really enjoyed romance novels, but she’d sooner eat dirt than admit that. So she had her second option at the ready.
“To Kill A Mockingbird,” Farah answered easily. “By Harper Lee. Published in 1960, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1961, spent 98 weeks on the New York Times best-seller list, and has been one of the most assigned books in the American educational system for years.”
She immediately realized how she’d just fired the information off without thought. If was a good book, but not one of her favorites that she could have gushed about for hours. “Yours?” Farah asked, clearing her throat.
Isaac blushes when Farah blushes, then even his ears turn red as she asks him to "enlighten" her.
"I would, but uh. . . I don't have a phone," he murmurs, fidgeting with his piercings. "And I'm not sure any camera would be able to capture even a tenth of your beauty."
He glances over at her and chuckles.
"That seemed very practiced. I should know. . ." he starts.
"Because my favorite book is a collection of poems written by Robert Frost. In particular, the poem 'Nothing Gold Can Stay,' written in 1923 and published in the Yale Review that same year." he says, in the same easy tone Farah had.
He laughs.
Farah's eyebrows arched, and her blush deepened at his comment. "I'm afraid your overestimating on behalf of my looks," she murmured, glancing back up at the sky. "I'm not that attractive."
Her eyes studied the sky, and she had to resist the urge to reach into her pocket again for her phone and take another picture of it. Half of her camera roll was pictures of the sky – a beautiful fiery sunset, fluffy white clouds against a clear vibrant blue, the dark grey palette of thunderheads as a storm rolled in. She was obsessed.
She blinked in surprise as he called her on her rehearsed answer. But as he replied in kind, her eyes alight with something akin to excitement. "Nature's first green is gold/Her hardest hue to hold," Farah quoted. A small smile appeared on her lips. "I adore Robert Frost."
Isaac smiles.
"I may be overestimating, but you are certainly underestimating," he counters.
"'Her early leaf’s a flower, but only so an hour.'" he continues, a light blush on his cheeks. "He got me through a lot of hard times with his poems. In a way, I guess I have him to thank for being able to talk to you right now. I wouldn't have even gone to college if it weren't for his poetry."
His counter made Farah's jaw drop. She quickly fixed herself except for the lingering blush that had appeared some time ago and wasn't seeming to fade, much to her annoyance.
"The leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief," Farah murmured, each word quieter than the last. "I feel that same way about several authors," she admitted. "It's part of what I try to teach my students. The understanding of certain pieces can be universal, but the meaning varies between individuals. A quote may seem mundane until placed in the midst of a person's heart."
She realized what she was saying and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to lecture you."
Isaac's blush deepens when Farah's jaw drops.
He murmurs something she can't quite catch in Korean.
"'So dawn goes to day. . .'" he whispers.
Isaac shakes his head, his hair obscuring his face.
"I get what you mean. A quote or line or word may mean something to you and be quite powerful, but for me it may mean something different or even mean nothing at all," he murmurs. "But it doesn't make it any less important, not in the slightest. In a way, it's more important once you find your own connection to it."
(I have an evil plot idea for this one… two, actually)
Farah barely heard the mutter, but she couldn’t tell what language it was. “You’re bilingual?” she asked curiously. While she wanted to know what he’d said, she wouldn’t pry. Obvious he didn’t want her knowing, since he’d spoken another complete language.
“Nothing gold can stay,” she finished instinctively. Whether it have been luck or God’s timing, they passed under a streetlamp as she spoke, and her golden hair illuminated in the lighting. It faded immediately after.
She looked over at him, trying to reign in her own eagerness about the topic. “Yes,” she agreed. A sly smirk appeared on her face. “You’d do well in my class,” she teased.
(Go right ahead- I live for complicated character relationships. But just so you know, you're not the only one with devious plot ideas :)
Isaac's blush deepens and he nods.
"My first language is actually Korean. My. . ." he starts before freezing, his tone going flat and his expression a shade blacker than the shadows around them, the blush gone entirely.
"It doesn't matter." he states, putting a very clear stop on the end of his sentence. Just like Farah's love life was touchy for her, Isaac's family was a subject he clearly had no interest in talking about.
As the light engulfs Farah when she recites the final line, Isaac glances over. He blushes, then notices something. He reaches over wordlessly and fixes her hair.
He looks worried at the notion that he'd fit in.
"Should I be worried? Do I have to go back to uni?" he asks.
(Damnnnnn I’m curious!)
Farah listened to him explain, interested in whatever he was going to say. Until he stopped suddenly and dismissed wherever the topic had been going. She blinked briefly in surprise, but as curious as she was, Farah let it drop. This was only the first time they were meeting each other after all. And she had things she didn’t want to reveal to someone who might as well have been a stranger.
Completing the poem made Farah smile. She was looking forward and didn’t even notice his hand extending toward her until he brushed a bit of her hair back. Immediately, she whipped her head to look over at him and fought the urge to step away. She was apparently jumpy too. And her hair was a particularly vulnerable spot for her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Her smirk faded at his concern. “No,” she answered quickly. “No, that isn’t what I meant at all. You’re just…” Farah breathed deeply, thinking over her words for a moment. “You’re intellectual. You can have a conversation easily and express yourself. This are exactly the kind of qualities that I personally admire in a student. Or in any person,” she added.
(Heheh. So am I, but we'll both never tell.)
Isaac jumps as well, blushing brightly.
"I- uh. . . your hair was just. . . it. . ." he murmurs before shaking his head. "Sorry. . . I didn't mean anything by it. . ."
He looks startled.
"'Intellectual?' Did Saul not tell you?" he asks curiously. He wonders just what kind of man Saul really was, not for the first time.
(I will if you will ;))
Farah instinctively reached up and smoothed her hand over the spot he'd touched. "No, no," she assured quickly. "It's alright. I know… Thank you." She smiled gently.
Though her smile quickly faded at the bewildered look on his face. His words made her lingering blush disappear surprisingly fast. Had she said something wrong? Had she offended him?
"Saul didn't tell me anything about you," Farah answered honestly. "When I pressed he said, and I quote, 'A blind date is supposed to be blind.'" She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "A true poet with words," she quipped sarcastically.
Something suddenly occurred to her, and she glanced over at Isaac cautiously. "Did he tell you anything about me?"
(Hmmm. . . but that defeats the point of the being devious, my dear. Mischievous grin)
Isaac looks like he wants to say something in return, but stops himself with a soft smile.
He then notes the way Farah's face changes and looks confused.
"Did I do something I shouldn't have?" he asks quietly.
Isaac snorts.
"Sounds exactly like him. . ." he sighs.
"Nope. All I knew was your face since he showed me a picture of you," he says with a soft chuckle.
"Is there anything in particular you wouldn't want him to tell me?" he asks. His expression and tone looked serious, but upon closer inspection it'd be pretty clear just from the look in his eyes that he was teasing.
(Polite poke)
(Sorry I was at a party yesterday, then ran some errands)
Farah faltered at the look of confusion on Isaac’s face. She shook her head at his words. “No,” she answered. “I was actually just wondering the same thing.”
She scoffed lightly at his sigh. “Indeed. He never really had a way with words, did he?”
“Oh, yes, he told me that much,” Farah replied. A light blush began to return to her features. “That he showed you a picture of me. Though now I’m a bit nervous as to the kind of picture he showed you.”
Farah hesitated as his question. Her gaze was trained forward, so she didn’t notice her giveaway yet. “I, uhm, I… no?” When she turned to look at him, the teasing was evident in his eyes. Her blush only deepened. “Stop teasing,” she quipped.
(Oh, sorry- I didn't know.)
Isaac looks stunned for a second before chuckling.
"Okay then. . ." he replies, shaking his head.
"Never. Not in all the time I knew him," he grins.
"It was just a picture. You were sitting at a table somewhere, apparently with Saul, looking very displeased about having your picture taken," he explains with a silent laugh.
"Why? If you're going to be giving me opportunities to do so, you may as well just get used to it," he grins.
(Polite bump)
(You're fine! I'm just usually way too busy for my own good.)
Farah hesitated, about to say something else, but she didn't. Why was she so awkward on dates? It was actually embarrassing how horrible her flirting was.
Though she laughed quietly. "I agree. I won't lie and say I'm surprised that he managed his way to becoming a coach instead of a professor. Though he takes every opportunity to bother me during my office hours. It's quite ridiculous."
Her face immediately warmed. "Oh," she murmured. Yes, she was definitely going to kill Saul now. If he survived their next encounter, it would be an act of God.
Farah shook her head. "Well then, I won't give you opportunities," she quipped in reply.
(Fair enough.)
Isaac notices the hesitation but doesn't comment.
"Yeah. . . he never left me alone, either. Maybe because he's an obnoxious bastard, maybe because he knew. . . but either way, he never left me alone," he chuckles. "Not even after he got done being yelled at for being late to practice or yet another English test."
Isaac looks like he wanted to disappear with how murderous Farah was looking right then.
"Mm-hmmmm. . ." he hums, laughing.
(Polite bump)
(Once more: polite bump.)
(I'm going to assume this is absolutely dead.)