Professor Dutch
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“Nothing to say for yourself?,” Dutch asked, seemingly disappointed, and you dared say even more than when you turned in a poorly written paper with barely any sources. “That’s a shame.”
“I—,” you protested, frustration getting the best of you, but quieted down as the man fixed you with a hard stare, eyes dark and brow quirked up at your outburst. “My apologies, Mr. Van der Linde. I suppose I… bit off more than I could chew.”
The man huffed a laugh, putting his fancy looking pen down. “Oh?,” he condescended, somewhat curious, perhaps amused — hell, maybe even both, you couldn’t tell. “And why’s that?”
To get to spend more time with you, Mr. Van der Linde.
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- Part 1 of Professor Dutch
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Dutch cocked his head to the side, idly play with the gold rings on his thick fingers. “I have a theory,” he smirked now, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “and I’d like to test it out.”
“Oh?,” you prompted him on, fidgeting on the sleeve of your worn out wool cardigan.
“The outcome,” Dutch groaned, scratching his chin, a very self-pleased aura about himself, “will depend entirely on you; or might I say how you’re going to do, shall you decide to accept it, my dear.”
You gnawed on your lower lip, skin prickling slightly in anticipation. “Sir?”
“I will write you a commendation letter, my girl,” he spoke offhandedly, smirking when your eyes widened a little. “That shall be enough for your honorable mention, if that’s really what you want.”
Series
- Part 2 of Professor Dutch