"John, what are you doing?"

Silver froze at the voice behind him. He turned around, looking guilty as a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Ah, Sarah!" He exclaimed jovially, "I was jest, erm, jest puttin' these plates back int' the cupboard."
He pointed at the large stack of crockery he was about to lift into the rather high cupboard.

Sarah sighed. Things had been a bit hectic this morning. Jim always helped, of course, but this morning it had run a bit late, and he hadn't had time to put away the washed dishes before he had to go to school. By the look of it, Silver had cleared most of it away already.

"John. You know you're not supposed to use your arm so much. It hasn't healed yet."

Silver groaned inwardly.
"Sarah, lass, it's nothin'. I don't t'ink me arm'll fall off from jest a couple of plates. Besides, me shoulder feels absolutely fine!"

Sarah crossed her arms and gave the cyborg a sceptic look. Silver could barely hide a smile. The crooked mouth, the arched eyebrow, he'd seen that expression many times before...not exactly on the same face, though.

"Your shoulder's fine?"
"Aye, it is."
"It hasn't been hurting at all?"
"None o'that."
"Then why -" Sarah demanded sweetly, "Have you been rubbing it for the last thirty seconds?"

Damn! Did that woman see everything? He hadn't even noticed himself doing it.
He sighed, defeated. "All right, lass, you win." Sarah gave a smug little smile. "I'll jest, ah-" he motioned towards the living room, and not even bothering to finish his sentence, he shook his head and walked out of the door.

He sighed. Sarah was right, of course. His arm had only been reattached for only two weeks now, and it still needed some time to attach itself to his shoulder blade properly.

Silver was the first person to admit that he was a bit of a lazy man (Well, maybe not the first, but he was definitely in the top twenty ) but these weeks of forced rest were driving him crazy. He didn't like feeling this useless. Besides, Sarah let him stay for free in one of their own guest rooms, and he felt he owed her something.

He sat down on the large and comfortable couch. Tapping his fingers on the armrest, he looked around the room. This part of the Inn was called the 'Home' and was forbidden for customers. Jim had insisted on it when they rebuilt the Benbow Inn. Sarah hadn't protested much. Just like her son, she had often longed for a living space that she could share only with her friends and family. Or, as Jim put it, a place where I can sit around in my pyjamas without getting funny looks.
The family bedrooms (and two personal guest rooms) were in this part of the inn as well.

Silver smiled as his eyes landed on a photograph on the wall. It showed a fifteen-year-old Jim sitting in a longboat, his arms around a young comet seal. He knew the picture well. He took it himself the day the two of them chased after the group of seals, and 'borrowed' the good doctor's camera.
Jim had said Sarah confiscated the picture immediately after he got home from Treasure Planet.

Silver sighed again, and decided he would read the newspaper. Again.
But as he reached over, his eyes fell on a smaller, brightly coloured booklet.

The Interstellar Paper

A school paper? Well, he might as well.

He leafed through the magazine, stopping every now and then to read something interesting. There were a couple of scientific articles (one particularly complicated one by Dr. Doppler, he noticed) and reports of recent voyages. He read a rather good column called "On one hand, on the other hand" in which a student and a professor debated over a recent issue in the school.

Silver reached the informal section. On the first two pages there were pictures from the Academy's last party. He smiled as one of the pictures caught his eye.

"First years Delano, Fitzgerald and Hawkins prove that you don't have to be drunk to have fun."

The three adolescents were standing on the bar, doing what looked like some kind of jig and spraying the other partygoers with purp juice from the glasses they were holding. They indeed looked as if they were having a blast, despite the strict "No booze under 18" rule. Silver made a mental note to get a copy of it.
Beneath that picture there was one of a rather sullen looking senior year student hanging on to a rather large glass of beer: "Fourth year Jacobs proved that you don't have to have fun to be drunk."

With a chuckle, the Ursid flipped over the page. On the next page was another column.

"The mysterious Newcomer"

Slightly intrigued, and with nothing else to do, Silver started reading.

"Ah, September, what good did you bring us? Well, the end of two months of peace and quiet, another school year filled with long lectures, strenuous classes, piles of homework, mind-boggling exams and of course the herd of new first years. In short; not much good.
One could argue that getting an outstanding education on one of the Etherium's best academies is worth all those discomforts. One could, but one would have to write one's own column. In this column, I'm going to write about the last mentioned discomfort of the new year.

First years. They seem to be getting younger every year. And I don't know which are worse; the ones that immediately strut around arrogantly as if they own the place, or the ones that make a dent in the ceiling when you sneak up on them and say "Boo!"
This year seemed to be no different at all. Until my eyes spied a newcomer, rather different from anything I've ever seen.

While the majority of newcomers make their first steps into the halls of the Academy with the necessary shuffling, tripping and, indeed, strutting, this guy came floating in with remarkable grace and confidence, yet an air of sincere friendliness. I was intrigued.
I saw him a couple of times after that, in the cafeteria. Sometimes with the friends he came in with, sometimes with new friends, but always surrounded by people. "

Silver stopped reading for a moment. This first year seemed to have made quite the impression on the author. He wondered...

"It wasn't long before pretty much everyone in the school knew the new guy. He was liked by both junior and senior years alike. His typically illustrative way of telling stories fascinates everyone close to him. Girls think he's the cutest thing ever. They swoon over him and try to get his attention. They are usually rewarded with a smile or a swift touch to the face, but he doesn't seem to commit himself to any girl. Guys think he's cool. They all want to be his friend, and try to give him a playful punch every chance they get. He goes along with any jokes they make, and makes them laugh in return.

But not only did the newcomer manage to befriend practically all the students, the professors aren't immune to his charms either. Within mere weeks he managed to become a real teacher's pet. Social suicide normally, especially when you are a newbie. But this fellow seems to get away with it without comment.

This guy just seems too perfect. When someone is sad, he's right there to cheer that person right up. When there's fun going on, the newcomer seems to be in on the action. And whatever the situation, he always manages to get a smile out of everyone.

He just seems to be able to adapt to any situation.

And I? Well, I just hope to cross paths with him as often as possible, just to see him smiling when he floats past me.

Of course, it is hard to get a picture of pure perfection in its true form, but I think I just about managed. Just flip over to the next page, and be blinded by the beauty of 'The Newcomer'."

Now very curious, Silver turned over the page.

And burst out laughing.

He put the newspaper down on the table. Still laughing loudly and shaking his head, he grabbed his pipe and went outside for a smoke.

"Hello! I'm home!"

With a shout, Jim entered the living room, closely followed by Morph. He carelessly dumped his bag on the couch.
"Hello? Silver? Are you here?"

Morph's familiar chatter made him look up. He smiled as he walked over to the table, where Morph was pointing to a picture from the last Interstellar Paper.

"Yeah, it's a pretty good picture of you, Morphy. Now come on, let's see if the old cyborg's outside."