Page 73 of Beware of Dog

“Francis.”

“Come on, you don’t wanna be late for school.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst,” she said with a smile.

He smiled back. “No, I’m not.”

~*~

Cass had a hard time focusing at school. She kept zoning out, envisioning the presents at home on the table, so obviously, endearingly wrapped by Shep himself.I’m going to marry that man, she thought, only half-dreamy, but half, more than half, dead serious.

Speaking of half: she was packing up her halfhearted notes at the end of her last class when Professor Swift said, “Cassandra, can I see you a moment after class?”

Oh shit. “Sure.”

She heard snickering around her. Whispers. Felt pointed looks that she ignored. She took her time gathering her things, and approached Professor Swift’s desk only once the classroom was empty.

For a long beat after she’d arrived before him, he stared at the open door, frowning. “Has anyone been giving you any trouble? Students, I mean.”

Cass frowned. She didn’t want to discuss that with any of her professors, especially not one of her favorites.

He turned to her, finally, frowning, eyes wide and searching behind his rimless glasses. He was a kindly-faced man, with a receding hairline and a gray ponytail; he had a tendency to look a little lost and befuddled, save when he talked about comics, and then he could rattle off dates, and authors, and artist styles like a gameshow contestant. He never talked about his personal life, or politics, or campus goings-on, which Cass appreciated.

But now he gazed up at her like a Concerned Adult and said, sincerely, “I was very sorry to hear about Jamie. I hear she’s taking some time away?”

“Yes. Just until things settle down.” Cass hoped that was true; she worried that, once removed from campus and all its stresses, Jamie wouldn’t be able to stomach returning.

He nodded, glum. “That might be for the best, though I hate to think she’s missing out on her education thanks to the terrible actions of others.”

“Yes,” Cass agreed, and resisted the urge to fidget. “Professor—”

“Don’t worry,” he said, knowing curve to his mouth. “I won’t pry. Please give Jamie my best.” Before she could assure him that she would, and find some excuse to leave, he pulled a familiar sheaf of papers from a folder on his desk. “I wanted to talk to you about your project.”

“Oh.” Her stomach lurched, and she couldn’t decide if she was nervous or excited.

When she moved in with Shep, she stopped trying to pretend he hadn’t been the main inspiration for her rendition of the Punisher. In fact, she’d reworked her existing pages to exaggerate the resemblance, and leaned heavily on her anime chops to give the whole panel a surreal, almost cartoonish flair.

Professor Swift looked up at her, and grinned. “I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” He dropped his head over the paper, and his hands started to fly with excitement as he pointed out details. “You can clearly see you were inspired by the Ennis run, but Frank himself, and your original character—you, I presume?”

She blushed, but nodded.

“Some of the lines, the exaggerations here, remind me of manga.”

“Satoru Noda,” she supplied, still blushing. “I’ve been on a bit of aGolden Kamuykick.”

“Yes! That’s it! And then your backgrounds, your flatwork, it’s as saturated as a watercolor. The bridge, here, in this panel looks like Monet.”

Overwhelmed, all she could say was, “Thank you.”

Profess Swift gazed lovingly on the page one more long beat, then set it aside, folded his hands, and looked up at her seriously. “There’s two things I wanted to say. One”—he tapped the edge of her project—“I think you’ve more than managed to make Frank Castle into a wholly different character. If you’ll take an old man’s advice, I think your retooled version should star in your final for this class.”

“Really? You think it’s original enough?”

“I do, definitely. Your Frank is softer, funnier, and more willing to work with others.”

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