Jul. 12th, 2014

turnedtoproust: (precipice: by ?)
It's a frightening thing, if Scripps admits it, that it's taken so long for him to come back around to the idea of higher education with a purpose. It's not that he thinks himself incapable, but the whole notion of taking a few years off had been for career pursuits, not lounging about a strange tropical island watching his life fetter away from him uselessly. Now, though, he's got a Barton catalogue in his hands and he feels a bit paralyzed.

He should be good at this. He ought to take hold of the possibilities and drown himself in education, now that it's available at a better rate than before. Hector would want him to do it. Irwin would want him to question what he's taking and come up with a counter-point essay on the courses.

Neither of them are here, though. So instead, Scripps is going to the best resource he knows and has deliberately set up shop in Grace's flat, sprawled on the couch with a pen in hand and the catalogue above him. "Do you think I need a basic class on the structure and composition of English?" he calls above the sofa to Grace.


turnedtoproust: (Default)
Donald Scripps

July 2014

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