▪▪▪ As a professor, Barnaby got to see plenty of sleepy-faced students
arrive in his class and coast through it at the best of times or drop the
course entirely at the worst of times. While the matters of science and
technology were new and booming, engineering and invention wasn’t
quite as tantalizing to the student body as some of the other areas of
study were. Ickabod was a rare gem among the student body - someone
that stood out, for better or worse, because of their sheer enthusiasm
for their area of study. Yes, many students liked what they came to
study for, but there was a difference between simple enjoyment and
pure unadulterated joy and enthusiasm.
Maybe that was the reason the professor was so lenient with him. Oh,
he graded him fairly against his peers, but he allowed for flexibility in
the time frame for his projects and wasn’t as strict about his appearance
or tardiness as he could have been. Did the other students care of it much?
No. But the other students could barely keep themselves awake during
his lectures and demonstrations, much less show enough promise that
he was willing to be just as lenient with them.
He heard Ickabod coming before he saw him and peered over to the
doorway to watch this awkward bundle of energy arrive. He was a mess,
disheveled and not at all meeting the standard expected of students.
This was about par for the course when he went on one of his inventing
binges - in fact, Barnaby would even argue that he was actually a little
more composed looking that he usually was after a few days spent
chasing an idea.
▲”Not at all, Ickabod. And you have not missed class, you still
have about…forty minutes or so before it starts? in a rare turn of events,
you’re early.”▲
He set the piece of chalk down, reaching into his pocket to fish out his
pocket watch and confirm the time. With a nod, he tucked it away
again and stepped towards Ickabod. He looked him over, and gently
reached over to fasten the loose suspender again. There was only so
much he could do to clean the young man up, but he’d help how he can.
▲”Now, I do appreciate your energy and enthusiasm, but you
know I’ve told you to avoid missing sleep. A tired man makes mistakes,
and mistakes can cost us dearly.”▲ He chided gently. He gestured to
the washing area in the back of the classroom, the simple couple sinks
and mirrors that let his students wash the grease and soot from the machines
off of them. ▲”Go clean up a little and get that grease off of your face and
then I would be happy to hear about the project you are working on.”▲ ▪▪▪
█ ▌ Ickabod had certainly looked worse, that was for sure. The young man was known for showing up to classes with grease on his face, his hair singed, and maybe even half an eyebrow missing with no explanation of why. But at least it was better than showing up without a body part...again. Sweet Ickabod had already lost a couple of those, sporting a mechanical leg and missing a couple of fingers on one side. One of his ears had a chunk missing from it and he had a plethora of scars here and there on his body, each with an interesting story. And unfortunately for everyone, he was always way too happy to tell those stories to anyone who would listen...no matter how disgusting they were.
⚙ “Oh! Am I now?” He giggled, embarrassed that he had misunderstood the time. “I haven’t seen the sun in so long, I saw it was one o’clock and figured it must have been after midnight! Imagine that.”
He entered the room clumsily, shaking out a squeaky gear in his mechanical leg as he blundered his way toward the desk. But before he could explain his amazing new idea to Barnaby, he was directed to go wash himself and be a bit more presentable. He blushed, his tan and freckled cheeks glowing red with embarrassment.
⚙ “Heh, yes, yes, sure, of course...Sorry, professor. I will try to fashion myself a more stable sleep schedule. Just give me ooone moment to, um...make myself presentable.”
He scampered over to the sinks to clean his face, doing so messily and with water all over his face and hair. His shirt was wet and he shook his hair out like a dog in the rain before he was properly cleaned up of all the dirt and oil on his face.
⚙ “Right!” he clapped his hands together and took on a crouched, goblin-like stance before jogging back over to the desk. “Sir...I’ve had an amazing idea and I’ve been putting it into action. Behold!”
With one wild motion, Ickabod lifted his leg and his mechanical limb clanked onto the desk, still attached to his knee. He pointed at it - or more specifically, to a brand new addition. There was a button on his knee that, when pushed, activated a strange contraption that sprung a sharp blade out of the side.
⚙ “Why carry around a Swiss army knife when you can be one, eh? Eh?? And that’s not it, I’ve got a can opener in there too...” He pushed it again, nicking himself in the finger in the process. “Ow! Heh, uh...still have to iron some things out. But look, look, look! It can also light a match! See, now if I’m ever lost in the woods - god forbid - I’ve got a full survival kit right here on the ol’ peg leg! That way I’m always one step ahead...huh? A leg up on the competition? Putting my best foot forward?”
He stared at Barnaby with this huge, stupid, expectant grin, his thumbs in his suspenders as if expecting to win a Nobel prize for his idiotic shenanigans. Bless him.
