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Bella attends her classes with faultless punctuality, every time. She sits in the second or third row on an aisle in the middle section of seats, in the classes that take place in big auditorium lecture halls like the main section of Bio; she's willing to put herself closer to the professors in smaller classes like OS and of course her flute chair (third; she hasn't been quite ridiculously showoffy enough to climb beyond yet) is assigned. But right now, she is in Bio, learning tidbits about auxin and tropisms that the textbook didn't cover fully. She's running at about one and a half speed, just enough that she can trivially listen to and process the lecture against her memory of the text while also permitting some mind-wandering. She liiiiiikes her cognitive speedup power.
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self_composed
"I've never particularly defined myself as someone with a great sense of humor," Bella says.
She's drawing a lot of attention to things she isn't unusually good at - suspiciously good at. She's not sure if that will help, but it probably won't hurt.
She's drawing a lot of attention to things she isn't unusually good at - suspiciously good at. She's not sure if that will help, but it probably won't hurt.
self_composed
"Probably," Bella agrees. "Although there are some really humorless people in the world."
self_composed
"My dad's not very funny. I wouldn't call him completely without a sense of humor, but he won't usually crack jokes, or laugh too much when he hears them. My mom can be, though."
self_composed
"Oh?" Bella asks. "What about yours?" Pause. "Are they funny?"
self_composed
The lab is at last completed and written up. Bella hands in her lab notebook and starts tidying everything up.
