<i><b><span style="font-family:Philosopher"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">Shawn took a seat at his usual spot: at a table near the front, close to where Parvaneh would lecture and demonstrate technique.  Part of it was to get him to pay attention, and not focus on other matters he had, and another part was so he could watch this Persian beauty on display so confidently, in control of her own environment, how attractive it was.  His eyes couldn't help but catch her top again, as they had before in the hallway.  He did not want to embarrass her by pointing it out, especially with more students filling the room.  Still, though, he didn't want the students to just stare at her, and her feel self-conscious.<br/>
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As Parvaneh was getting ready for class to begin, Shawn stood from the table, and slowly made his way to where she sat.  He had brought a notebook with him, a general purpose notebook, some pages for vocabulary in German, other pages copied text from his books and online news articles, and some with vocabulary from Parvaneh's language.  He didn't know how to communicate out loud in a way that only she would understand, he didn't know the Persian word for "your shirt".  "Miss Ardavan," Shawn said quietly, "what is today's lesson?" all the while writing down for her to read, "your shirt is a bit damp from the rain, and you have a button undone."<br/>
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He felt bad about bringing such a thing to her attention, how embarrassed he would be if something went wrong with his clothes, be it ripped pants in embarrassing spots, or tears in his shirt, or even stains that wouldn't come out after washing.</span></span></b></i>