All Good Things
'Examining the ethics involved with policy crafting is a complex task, particularly given that the moral definition of 'right' in itself is not a concrete entity. Take for instance, the logic behind utilitarian decision making and contrast it with the deontological approach that hinges on the concept of the categorical imperative…'
"Ever hard at work, I see," the librarian commented pleasantly as she walked by the table, causing Machias to look up from his reading and nod in greeting.
"Indeed I am," he replied, pushing up his glasses as he spoke. "I still have quite a bit of review to do before I can call myself fully prepared for what comes after Thors; Heimdallr's political academies are renowned for having punishing course loads."
The older woman clucked her tongue in mild disapproval, shaking her head all the while. "That's all well and good, but you lot *did* just finish exams not too long ago. Are you sure you want to dive back into intense studying so soon? Your last days here at Thors will be here before you know it."
Not that she was expecting Mr. Regnitz to actually listen to her, of course – she was far too familiar with the Class VII VP at this point to harbor such flights of fancy – but she felt it was worth pointing out.
The green haired boy gave a resigned shrug. "I think it's better to keep the same routine instead of relaxing for a little while and risk getting complacent. Believe me, it would be all too easy to set this aside… but that would undoubtedly come back to haunt me in a few months."
If nothing else, the logic was sound. And having seen many students who aimed toward the same goal as him come and go, she knew for a fact that he wasn't overstating the difficult path ahead of him one bit.
Even so, the boy must have had some kind of off switch, right? In all her years at Thors, she wasn't sure he had seen any student dedicated to academics as he was, with his only equal being…
A sudden high pitched ring startled her out of her brief reverie, and she soon found her gaze landing on a sheepish looking Machias, who was busy pulling out the ARCUS unit that had become a Class VII trademark not one month into their time at Thors.
"I'm sorry for the rude interruption," the bespectacled boy said, and she had to bite down a snicker when she saw that his posture was almost as rigid as his voice. Some things didn't change. "May I take this?"
The woman waved a hand. "Oh, of course. Exams are over and you're the only one here so no one's being disturbed. Besides, far be it from me to interfere with Class VII business."
He coughed a little at that, his complexion dusting over with the slightest tinge of red. "T-Thank you for understanding."
She smiled at him, letting him know that it was no trouble at all. "Think nothing of it. You needed a break, anyway."
His face darkened even more at that (she wasn't sure what was easier, getting him red or keeping him red) and he nodded again before turning to answer the call, with the librarian's ears catching the boy's greeting as she walked away and smirking from ear to ear when she realized just who was calling.
"Machias speaking… oh, hello Emma."
"Don't sound too excited now," he heard her laugh through the earpiece, and he felt his lips tug upwards involuntarily, his mood lifting immediately upon hearing his friend's voice.
"That may be easier said than done. I'm trying to contain my joy, I'll have you know. You may not be able to tell, but I'm doing my best," Machias deadpanned, leaning back in his chair with his studies all but forgotten for the moment.
"Liar," she sing-songed. "Your bright eyes and bushy tail betray you from here."
"I somehow doubt that, considering you can't even see my eyes. And last I checked, I don't have a tail," he quipped back, right before he remembered just how whimsical Emma could be when she was in the mood for it. "Stop that."
He couldn't see her either, but Machias somehow knew that his friend was currently the portrait of innocence, looking as pure as fallen snow. "Stop what?"
"Picturing me with a tail. You think I don't know you're doing it right now?" he accused, smile growing in spite of himself.
"It's such a cute image, though."
"And that," Machias countered with no small measure of patience, "is precisely why I want you to stop."
"If you insist," Emma sighed, the sound not lacking in theatrical flair. "I suppose I'll need to content my imagination with just the ears, then. You didn't say anything about those."
"Neither did you initially, but I'll take what I can get," Machias conceded, giving a fond chuckle even as he rolled his eyes. "Bizarre thought exercises aside, to what do I owe the pleasure, Madam President?"
The musical sound of her giggle echoed in his ear. "Hehe. It's nothing pressing, but I did want to get your opinion on something. Are you busy right now, by any chance?"
He looked over the mess in front of him with a critical eye. He currently had in front of him multiple chapters of ethical consideration to get through, plus the corresponding case studies. If he had time after that – and that was a big if – then Machias had wanted to go back and review the texts on last century Erebonian policy one more time, along with various charts on how the political structure had evolved over the years, so the obvious answer was…
"Not particularly, no," he replied, not particularly concerned with either the blatant lie or the still smirking librarian.
"Oh, good! I just finished having tea with Dorothee at Kirche's, so I can come meet you now if you like. Are you at the Chess Club or the library?"
He frowned a little at that, his hand coming up to adjust his glasses in a manner that was more reflex than anything now. "Hey, now. That's a little presumptuous, wouldn't you say? Those can't be the only two choices. I have been known to frequent other places at Thors and Trista besides our dorm, you know."
"I know you have," Emma agreed, amusement lacing every word. "Now, with that cheerfully acknowledged – Chess Club or library?"
His eyebrow twitched slightly.
There were times – such as collaborating in battle as link partners, or studying together in an attempt to keep the accelerated Thors curriculum from killing them – that he was immeasurably pleased that Emma had gotten to know him as well as she had (and vice versa, of course).
It went without saying that this was not one of those times.
"… Library," he finally grumbled, and his admission was rewarded with the sound of a silvery laugh.
"I see. Usual table?"
"Usual table," Machias confirmed, the mild petulance all but vanished from his voice. "See you soon then?"
"Absolutely," and he flipped the cover down with a business-like flick and set the ARCUS back in his pocket when he heard the telltale beep of the call ending.
After taking a moment or two to set the rest of his review materials in his satchel, Machias decided to use the few minutes he had left to try and finish the chapter he was on. It really was relevant after all, if not a little dry.
… Okay, a lot dry.
He was so focused on the viewpoints vying for moral supremacy on the pages in front of him that he didn't notice the door opening, nor did he notice the new arrival quietly slip behind him, and it took the familiar sensation of soft hands alighting on his shoulders to break his trance.
"So," the witch greeted, looking down with curiosity. "What are we reading?"
"The riveting tale of ethics in contemporary politics," Machias replied, pushing up his glasses before he turned to greet the brunette proper. "Hi, Emma."
"Hi." She paused, sounding decidedly less cheery then she had earlier. "Still studying, I see."
The exasperation in her voice was impossible to miss, and the green haired boy could only raise his hands in resignation. "I-It has to be done; the syllabus is just too intense to leave all of it for the school year. From what I understand prospective students are expected to familiarize themselves with a lot of it, because the professors don't have the time to spend on the basics."
He paused. "So you can stop looking at me like that now," he told Emma, a little discomfited by the unimpressed expression she still wore. "The course load isn't up to me."
Emma had been assuming that he'd been reading for leisure after she had hung up. Hindsight being what it was, she shouldn't have been surprised.
Annoyed and a little concerned, on the other hand… those were different matters altogether.
"… We've had this conversation before, so there's no real point in having it again," she finally sighed, the frown a dead giveaway that she had much more to say on the subject than she was allowing herself to. "But please don't overwork yourself again, okay? I'd have thought the end of exams would have given you a break."
If only. Perhaps if they were normal students approaching the end of a normal first year…
"It probably would have, if not for my acceptance letter a few months ago," Machias said with a wry shrug. "After I received that, everything sort of merged together into a never-ending maelstrom of words, numbers, facts, figures…"
A slim eyebrow lifted in faux-surprise upon hearing the subtext underneath his words. "Mm. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this may be the first time I've ever heard you refer to studying as anything but fun, Machias."
"Hmph. Studying *is* fun," he sniffed, crossing his arms in an imperious posture that she recognized all too well. "That being said… too much of anything can be taxing, whether it's enjoyable or not."
That had been as close to him admitting hardship as she was going to get, and her brow knitted a little more in worry, the memory of an exhausted Machias rearing its ugly head in the back of Emma's mind – something that made the VP's chest clench a little as soon as he noticed.
He should have been done making her worry. He had done that enough.
"Look, there's nothing to be concerned about," he assured her, favoring her with a firm nod. "Trust me, I've learned my lesson about pacing myself."
Her shoulders rose and fell in a resigned sigh. "If you say so," Emma conceded, willing to let the matter drop for the moment. "But it's pointless telling me not to worry about you, Machias," she continued, fixing him with a theatrically stern gaze. "I'll still do it."
He sighed just as theatrically, the minute adjustment of his glasses having the quality of a bow to applause. "If you insist, Emma. I suppose one of us has to."
She couldn't help but laugh at that, and she was gratified when her ears caught the sound of his quiet chuckles, the serious atmosphere having dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.
"Anyway, your castigation of my review habits aside," Machias said, smirking a little at her affronted expression, "You said you wanted to get my opinion on something?"
The reminder of why she was there jolted the Class VII President back to attention immediately, the witch nodding in acknowledgement as the playful mirth left her face.
"I did," she replied, pulling out the chair next to him and sliding close, casual contact having become more and more common between them in the past few months. "I've been thinking."
"About?" the VP prompted, more than a little curious about what was going through her head at the moment.
"Well, with exams being over and done with, we only have a matter of days before we all… leave Thors," Emma began, not wanting to think about the end of what quite honestly had been the time of her life, hardships and all. Judging by the pensive look on his face, Machias felt very much the same way. "And with that in mind… it would be appropriate if we found a way to formally thank Instructor Sara somehow, wouldn't it?"
"Instructor Sara?" Machias repeated, the distinctive image of their irreverent teacher appearing in his mind's eye.
It pained him to admit it, but if someone had asked him his opinion of the ex-bracer at the start of his time at Thors, he would have had nothing to offer but blistering contempt that would have only been exceeded by someone asking him how he felt about Jusis Albarea. She was the absolute antithesis of what an educator should have been; scatterbrained, flighty, and far too enamored with alcohol for someone who worked as an authority figure (in theory, anyway) for impressionable teenagers.
She had also taught Class VII invaluable lessons about loyalty, pride, honor, and what it meant to fight for what you believed in, and Machias and Emma both knew that without Sara, they might have had a more conventional education, might have had a safer time at Thors, might have stayed the whole two years and lived the typical school life romanticized by the crowds that longed for halcyon days past….
But when all was said and done, they would have been less.
"You're right," the Vice President declared, knowing in his bones that this was a fundamental truth. "You're absolutely right."
"I had a feeling you might say that," Emma said with a smile, unsurprised that he was being so receptive. Machias had always taken his duties as Vice President seriously, and it looked like he would continue to do so until the day they were finally relieved from duty. "Now comes the difficult part… figuring out what we as a class should do. At the very least, we should brainstorm ideas and take them back to everyone else."
"That's certainly a good starting point. Have you talked with any of the others yet?"
The sour face Emma made took him by surprise, to say the least. "W-What is it?" he asked, a little unnerved at her disconcerted look.
"Oh nothing, really. I've only spoken to Celine about this, and her suggestions were… I mean, you've met Celine."
Machias snorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes skyward. This could only be good…
"I have, and I shudder to think what her feline brain came up with. Dare I ask?"
"Well," the brunette began tonelessly, with only the scrunch of her brow betraying her mild annoyance, "Her first idea was treating Sara to copious amounts of alcohol."
… All right, Machias probably should have felt guilty that his first reaction was to think that it wasn't all that poor of an idea. He had nothing but respect for his instructor, of course, but there was no denying her very real affectation towards consuming copious amounts of liquor along with inviting everyone present to join said consumption, regardless if it was legal or not. Rean would attest to that.
As if she read his mind, Emma crossed her arms and leveled a disapproving gaze at her Vice President, who to his credit did have the decency to look a little sheepish. "I'm fairly sure you're not supposed to approve, Machias."
"A-And I certainly don't!" he retorted, unable to hide the nervous stutter that was his ever present tell – not that Emma would have believed him even if it hadn't been there.
"Mm-hmm. I can see that," she said, shaking her head and unable to keep her lips from curling upwards in spite of herself.
He coughed, once, twice, three times in an attempt to regain his equilibrium, much to the thinly repressed amusement of the witch, who in spite of being used to his quirks never stopped finding them endearing. He simply wouldn't have been Machias without them. "I'm digressing. Did she have any more?"
"She did, and I actually liked her second one – a farewell surprise party, thrown by us."
Hmm. The boy crossed his arms and leaned back, looking thoughtful as he considered the logistics. It wouldn't be at all difficult to set up, all things considered, and they would be able to buy anything they needed from Trista. The real issue then, the one that would probably keep them from doing it, was –
"Time constraints," he said with a snap of his fingers, coming to the conclusion that even with exams completed there was still a lot for everyone to do, both the student body and faculty alike. In the days they had left, the odds of them putting this together were… well, it may have been possible, but…
"Exactly," Emma sighed before nibbling her lip, not at all surprised that her counterpart had spotted the problem so fast, and it only took a few seconds of staring before Machias managed to avert his eyes from the alluring sight. "If we had more time then something like this would be simple, but we don't… and she deserves better than a slap-dash effort, even if she'd probably end up saying that it was the thought that counted."
"Not to mention that knowing Sara, the end result would probably be the same as our first idea, because I'm sure she'd find a way to source alcohol from *somewhere* in spite of any measures we took to avoid that," Machias finished, with his final summary being succinct, crisp, and so far removed from tactful that tactful was barely a line on the horizon anymore.
There was something to be said for candid assessment (or brutal honesty, it depended on who you asked), and Emma found herself laughing weakly, knowing that her friend's assessment wasn't exactly wrong. "Ehehe. I can't help but feel bad for agreeing with you, but…"
"It is what it is," Machias filled in, giving her a 'what can you do?' shrug. "So that course of action won't work, either. Did Celine happen to contribute anything else?"
The slight widening of her eyes and rapid darkening of her cheeks spoke volumes about the matter, and the VP found himself more than a little curious - and wary - of what the familiar had come up with. "Her final idea must have been quite something, I take it."
"… You might say that," Emma answered after a few moments of silence, looking as if she'd rather be anywhere else instead of having to explain the kind of thoughts that ran through her familiar's head.
"Is it doable?"
"That depends. Do you happen to know where Laura's father is and have a large amount of rope on you?"
The strangled gasp made the librarian look up from her cataloguing work and discreetly send a glance at the two teens. What in the world were they working on that was turning Millstein redder than her uniform jacket and making Regnitz choke on air?
"Y-Your cat's an endless fount of class, Emma," Machias finally got out, having managed to recover from his little coughing fit. In retrospect, maybe he should have seen something like that coming, given the feline's general irreverence for everyone and everything that wasn't related to the Hexen. "I suppose I should at least give her credit for creativity – "
"No," Emma said flatly, her sapphire eyes narrowing at the prospect of Machias giving Celine anything that remotely resembled encouragement. "No, you should not."
Biting back a comment about how much Sara *would* like that particular gift – the ex-bracer's mouth had a tendency to let things slip when the Viscount was brought up, to Laura's eternal chagrin – Machias instead contented himself with a small grin that so few at Thors had the chance to see (and as trite as it sounded, Emma's heart sped up a little every time she witnessed it) and held up his hands in surrender.
"O-On the other hand, that would only be a step or two removed from contributing to the problem, so I propose we focus our energies on trying to find another angle," Machias placated, and Emma gave a huff that, to his practiced ears, didn't sound all that displeased.
"I'm glad you see it my way," she said, reaching into her satchel to remove a notebook. "Shall we begin?"
He nodded. "I'm ready when you are."
The possibilities flew fast and furious from them both, Emma and Machias working as the perfectly synchronized unit that Class VII representative duties and field studies that forged them into, their shared ordeals serving as the crucible. Indeed, looking at the pair now it was hard to believe there was ever a time when the boy had been nothing but prickly and rough and the girl had been nothing but secretive and skittish.
So lost were they in the task before them that it took Emma looking down at the multiple pages they had filled to realize that, for all the effectiveness of their combined intellect, it did have one glaring drawback.
"We think too much, don't we?" Emma giggled weakly, staring at the multitude of scribbles, charts, and notes that filled the previously blank notebook in front of them.
"There's no such thing," the VP declared, pushing up his glasses before scanning the fruit of their labor with eager eyes. "Why, with all this we cou – and on second glance, you may have a point."
Emma clicked her tongue and nodded, her fingers fidgeting all the while. "I… don't know if any of these are actually feasible. Our tastes run to the elaborate, it seems."
"And time consuming," Machias winced, doing some rapid mental math and not liking the answers that he was getting back. "I'm starting to think we're being too ambitious about this."
Well, that was something she never thought he'd say.
"Machias Regnitz being 'too' ambitious about something, hmm?" she teased, rather enjoying the sight of the slow flush working its way onto his face and betraying his stoic expression with impunity. "Do my ears deceive me?"
As always, his reaction was something to see. "W-Wait just a sec – don't forget, *you* were the one that wanted assistance!" he retorted, a frown on his face that she might have considered serious and disapproving if not for his remarkable resemblance to an annoyed Celine. "If you feel like my contributions aren't suitable – "
"That's not what I'm saying and you know it," she assured him, reaching up to pat his hand softly while doing her best to hide to hold back a fond snicker. "I was just reminded of how far you've come since our early days, that's all."
She was expecting another annoyed retort or an exasperated eye roll, as per his usual modus operandi. When Emma saw his indignance melt away, however, to be replaced with something vaguely melancholic and distant, she frowned slightly and let her hand settle on his own, running her thumb along the surprisingly soft skin.
"Was it something I said?" she murmured, being careful to keep her tone light; he had been far better about opening up ever since the Courageous, but Machias was never going to be the type to share without at least a little prodding.
At least it didn't take him almost collapsing anymore. That was an improvement.
"No. I was just reminded of something, that's all."
"How wonderfully vague," she hummed, smiling a little at the face he made. "Mira for your thoughts, perhaps?"
His dismissive sniff was worthy of any aristocrat, though she doubted he would appreciate hearing that. "Hmph. It's unseemly to start negotiations with such a blatant lowball, Emma. I'd like to think my thoughts are worth more than that."
"I'm hurt that you would think so little of me after all this time. I'd be more than be happy to arrange for a price adjustment should the transaction be satisfactory," the brunette offered, rather enjoying the reluctant smirk that her flippant remark conjured forth.
"Impressive recovery. You would make Becky and Hugo proud."
A brief pause, the pair relaxing in the companionable silence as the sunlight shining through the windows began to fade, illuminating the landscape outside with a beautiful rose glow.
"… I might take you up on that after, maybe," Machias finally murmured, favoring her with a hesitant smile.
"Okay," she smiled back, feeling very warm all of a sudden. "If you want to. No pressure, though."
"Duly noted. But now that you mention pressure…"
"I know. Believe me, I know," Emma sighed, her brow knitted in frustration. "We have a bit of a time crunch. Still, we can't sit and do nothing, though! She's done so much for Class VII, we need to come up with a way to thank her somehow…"
"… You know, the 'thank' is definitely a lot more important than the 'somehow'.
Emma blinked twice, a little confused at the borderline non-sequitur. "Hmm?"
"I mean," he began, measuring his words and trying to figure out the best way to phrase his sudden epiphany. "We've come to the consensus that we're overthinking this, right?"
Upon seeing her nod in agreement, he went on, starting to sound more confident as his thoughts began to crystallize. "So maybe we should avoid getting too grandiose and simply figure out a way to let her know how she's helped us during our time here at Thors. Place our focus more on the gratitude and less on the gesture, I suppose."
Having said his piece, Machias leaned back a little in his chair and looked at Emma, clearly expecting some kind of feedback from his counterpart.
When he received instead, however, a stare that indicated Emma was as close to completely stunned as she had been since the Infernal Castle, the boy couldn't help but be a little flustered, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. "What? What is it?" he demanded, unable to shake the odd feeling of being examined under a microscope.
The wide grin that was slowly blossoming on her face really wasn't helping matters either, Machias decided, a familiar scowl starting to work its way across his face. Not one bit.
"Hehe. That's really sweet of you," and the praise was warm as her eyes were soft.
As expected, it was a safe bet that the heat from his resulting blush could have boiled water in seconds, and all that was missing to complete the picture was for him to start pointing and waving in furious denial. There wasn't a doubt in her mind; she was going to miss this so much when they all parted ways.
"D-Don't go getting carried away now! There's no need to make such a big deal out of it, Emma. As the Class VII Vice President, my duty is the same as yours, remember? My assessment of the situation was – "
"Sweet," she interrupted with a laugh, and Emma noted with no small amount of delight that over the course of their friendship she had apparently gotten very good at the 'make Machias blush' game. "Deny it all you want, but it was sweet. It was."
Ugh. There wasn't a lot he could really say to that, was there?
"… Anyway," he coughed, trying his best to collect himself and failing miserably, flicking an annoyed glance at Emma when he saw the pleased expression still plastered to her face. "I've said my piece. Are you in agreement?"
"That I am," she practically chirped, satisfied that they had at least come to a concrete starting point. "And if we're not planning anything large, we should have at least a little time to meet with the others and come to a consensus on what we should do."
"Good," Machias said slowly, his blush still not quite gone. "I'm glad."
"You're not the only one," the brunette replied, looking a little relieved now. "For a while there I was starting to think we'd bitten off more than we could chew."
There wasn't a chance that her friend was letting that go by. "Us? Never," came the Vice President's proud declaration, and memories of victories past swam to the surface unbidden, reminding Emma just how formidable of a pair time and experience had made them.
"… I really will miss this," she thought, her smile dimming just that little bit. "I will."
"At any rate," she continued out loud, not breaking her stride in the slightest, "I think I've taken up enough of your time. I'm sure you have lots of material you'd like to get back to…"
He repressed a snort. Did he have lots of material that needed reviewing? Absolutely. That did not mean that he would *like* to get back to it. He had meant what he said earlier, after all; too much of anything was only detrimental in the long run, and he had been going full blast ever since their return to Thors. Maybe a break would prove to be helpful in clearing his mind and motivating him again.
His gaze repeatedly pulling towards Emma had nothing to do with it, of course. Truly.
"Actually," Machias started, reaching over to shut his textbook with a flourish and noting how the witch's eyes widened fractionally as he did so, "I think I've had enough for the day. Between our actual classes, exams, and preparing for next year's course load, it's been a bit of a rough ride when it comes to schoolwork."
She could only nod at that, happy that he was finally acknowledging his insane workload but unable to keep from worrying at the same time; he had that effect on her, it seemed, moreso than even Rean… and considering what Rean got himself into most of the time, that was saying something.
"That's satisfying to hear." Putting the notebook they had scribbled all over back into her satchel, Emma looked back at Machias again, a little curious now. "Were you going to go back to the dorm then, or do you plan to go to the Chess Club and squeeze a quick game in with Stefan?"
"Neither, actually," he answered, packing the rest of his materials away while trying not to groan – there was more to him than school and chess, really! "I was going to ask – are you doing anything for the rest of the day?"
She shook her head at that. "No, this was all I had left after meeting Dorothee earlier. What did you have in mind?"
He shrugged casually before sending her a quick glance over his shoulder. "I was going to go for a walk around Trista and clear my head. Would you care to join me?"
Emma blinked twice, before she laughed, smiled, and nodded in assent. "I think I will. That sounds lovely."
A few arges away, the librarian looked up at the sound of chairs moving back into place and she saw the two Class VII students wave their hands in farewell as they made their way towards the door, Emma sidling a little closer to Machias than perhaps was strictly necessary.
She waved back, her heart full and her countenance wistful. It was never easy preparing for children – and it was impossible to think of them as anything but after so long – to leave after getting to know them, and in the relatively short time they had been students she had gotten to know Machias Regnitz and Emma Millstein quite well indeed.
Still, there were certain things about her job that she wouldn't trade for the world, and she knew without the shadow of a doubt that she was witnessing one of them right now. She was unable to resist a smile of her own as she saw Machias say something that made the brunette facetiously roll her eyes and grab him by the wrist, the bespectacled boy mock-protesting all the way out the door.
Young love. There wasn't quite anything like it, was there?
"… Somehow I knew we'd end up back here," Emma sighed amusedly as the pair looked up at the large silhouette of the Old Schoolhouse, the structure looking foreboding as ever in spite of it having remained quiet since their last journey inside.
"If nothing else, it brings us full circle," Machias replied, his index finger coming up to adjust his glasses. "It's difficult to believe that this is where Class VII was born… and to think all it took was the floor dropping out from under us."
"Hehe. There were a number of things that I could have expected on a first day at a new school. That wasn't one of them," Emma agreed with a chuckle, a nostalgic smile on her lips. "From eight strangers to Class VII in the span of a few hours."
"A miracle considering that out of those eight, four were on a slippery slope right out of the starting blocks," the VP said, taking seat on the grass with Emma following suit right after, both students out of sight from the academy's main grounds. "Rean and Alisa were still in the throes of that initial misunderstanding – "
"Which worked out for the best, in the end," Emma chimed in, the memory of how the swordsman and archer had ended up falling head over heels for each other as time passed never failing to lift her mood. Maybe it was the romantic in her.
"That it did," he conceded with an agreeable nod, before his eyes went distant again for a moment as he looked into the darkening sky, searching for something that he wasn't entirely sure was there. "And the mess I made out of things with Jusis - and Laura and Rean, come to think of it - speaks for itself."
She reached to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "If it makes you feel better, I can tell you that Laura and Rean held no grudges afterward, and as for you and Jusis… that was certainly taxing to deal with, I won't lie. That first field study was quite the exercise in conflict resolution, if nothing else."
He snorted. "Credit to yourself, Gaius, and Fie for not resolving the conflict by killing us and saying we were ambushed. In retrospect, I don't think anyone would have blamed you."
"Probably not," she smiled placidly. "But don't forget, you made up for it in Bareahard. You've come a long way, Machias."
Much to his immediate chagrin, his next words slipped out before he could stop them, a chastisement that would not permit itself to be deferred or denied.
"If you say so."
The resulting silence was deafening.
He couldn't have meant that. After coming so far with Class VII, there was no way that he was giving himself as little credit as he was now, was there?
A quick glance at the boy's hard, drawn features, however, was enough to tell Emma the entire story.
"I think this is where I listen to you talk, now," she murmured, looking at her friend with no small amount of concern.
He didn't reply for a few moments, his fingers idly picking away at the blades of grass, before he looked up again and asked her a question.
"… How often have you thought about what comes after Thors, Emma?"
The witch blinked, puzzled. If this were coming from anyone else, she would have immediately labelled it as a cheap attempt as misdirection, a ploy to take her mind off the subject… but the weight in her friend's emerald eyes spoke otherwise, and she understood that his query, for whatever reason, held serious import and deserved no less than a serious answer.
"Quite a bit," she replied, unable to fight the the painful twinge that came with any thoughts of 'after'. "The closer it gets, the more I think about it. I have so many questions for my grandmother and the other elders; about my duties, about my powers, about Vita… to say nothing of what I might have to do *about* those questions when the time comes. I suppose it all depends on the answers I receive… but at the same time, it's something I can't shy away from, no matter how uncertain things look."
She remembered all too well. Class VII had told her to hold her head high when Vita was doing her best to bring her world crashing down, and she would continue to endure now as she had endured then.
"I'm a witch of the Hexen Clan, and I'll gladly bear both the burden and the pride that come with that role. But I'm also a member of Class VII, and while I'm looking forward to what the future brings… I don't want this time to end," she said, her voice small. "You've all been so…"
When his arm curled around her waist and drew her close to him, she let her eyes flutter close and laid her head against the reassuring weight of his broad torso, taking respite in the familiar safety and warmth.
"… I don't want our time as Class VII to end either," Machias admitted, his chin tucked above her crown and her chestnut hair tickling his nose. "But at the same time, I can't help but feel that it has to if I want to do what everyone else has done and finally grow up."
It sounded like something Rean would say if he was being honest with himself, and the only thing that kept him from wincing in embarrassment afterward was that it was absolutely true, if not something he didn't like to admit.
"But you have," Emma told him, and it warmed his heart to see her sapphire eyes so bright and alive with stubborn indignance on his behalf. "How can you feel that you haven't? Machias, the person you were – "
"Is still in there, somewhere. He may not rule me anymore, and I've learned to conduct myself with far more dignity than I have in the past, but make no mistake… everything that drove me to act the way I did, it hasn't…"
He wasn't at all surprised to feel his throat starting to tighten and close up, and he belatedly wondered if the concept of communication would ever come easily to him, the old urge to remain silent and evasive struggling to rise to the surface.
There was no point in being resentful about it. In the end, he was who he was. Maybe that was the problem.
"I'd… I'd always thought that someday," he began again, with the brunette giving him an encouraging squeeze, "I'd be able to move past my immaturity and weakness. Our time at Thors taught me that it was wrong to tar all nobles with the same brush, and I was hoping that by going to school in Heimdallr, by learning how the class system became the way it was and eventually joining the effort to fix it, maybe I could…"
"Maybe you could…?" Emma coaxed, wanting so desperately to understand the young man whose arms she was in but at the same time knowing that he was still unused to being this open and unguarded, even around her.
"Learn to let go."
He let his eyes drop to the earth below them, the admission taking every bit of willpower he had.
The idea would have been anathema to him a year ago, the worst kind of heresy; after all, if he did that then what did Sis die for? What did the people of Celdic lose their home for? Was he simply supposed to smile and let bygones be bygones?
Intellectually, he of course knew that wasn't the case. He had said it himself; not all nobles were like the ones that had caused his family so much pain. Jusis, Rean, Laura, and so many others had comported themselves with the dignity and grace that their stations commanded, and they stood in his mind as examples of what the aristocrats should strive to be. They weren't the ones that made his ire erupt and the venom flow.
But even though he had managed to mature a little and learned to lead with his head and not his heart, if he still carried that old anger, that resentment that he had worn like a second skin … could he really look himself in the mirror and say that he had left his past self behind?
Of course he couldn't, and that might have been what hurt him the most.
"I'm so tired of feeling like this," he whispered into her hair, the words having the solemnity of long denied catharsis, and he didn't bother saying anything when he felt her fingers twine through his, her simple presence making it easier for him to just be.
"… You have changed, though. Maybe not as much as you wanted to, but you have," Emma whispered back, shifting and moving until she could look him in the eye, and she was gratified to see his gaze holding firm instead of seeking to evade as it once might have.
"Emma – "
"You were nothing but worried about Jusis when everything concerning his father and brother came to a head. You were happily teaching visiting nobles how to play chess at the festival. You went from cursing everything about Erebonia's class system to freely admitting that your viewpoints about the nobility may have been shortsighted. Do you honestly think the angry boy from our first day of school would have done any of that?"
She paused for a few moments, just long enough for the sentiment to start sinking in.
"I'm not saying you don't have room to grow, because that would be a lie. We *all* have room to grow even further than we have; that's why we're all leaving Thors soon, isn't it? So we can all pursue our goals and aspirations, and try to become the people we know we can be. But with all that said… you're not that person anymore, Machias. You can't be."
Goddess, Emma made it sound so simple.
"… Why are you so sure?"
"Because," she said, looking up at him with flushed cheeks, guileless eyes and her words spilling forth with such sincerity it almost hurt, "I-I wouldn't like you so much if you were."
He didn't say anything for a few seconds after that. How could he?
Though it had been quite some time since the conflict had ended, they had never actually discussed what happened aboard the Courageous. Far too much had happened right after; the Infernal Castle, their final battle with Crow and Vita, the devastating aftermath of that fight, their return to Thors… in all the chaos and turmoil, dealing with personal issues had seemed almost inconsequential.
That hadn't meant, however, that what lay between them simply remained unacknowledged and allowed to wither away into the painful question of 'what if?'
Instead, it had been quick glances, stolen when no one else had been looking.
It had been lingering conversations at the rear of the pack when Class VII marched back to the dorms.
It had been the President and Vice President spending more time on their representative duties than they ever had before.
It had been Stefan and Dorothee looking at each other with raised eyebrows when they realized that the Literature and Chess Clubs might as well have merged for all that the bookworms dropped in on each other unannounced, it had been Machias swallowing his pride and mouthing 'library?' at Emma when the enormity of the academic task facing Class VII made itself clear, and it had been Emma nodding her head with an eager smile, mouthing back 'we'll meet after, okay?'
It was Emma bathed in the glow of setting sun telling him that he was better than he thought he was, and it was Machias staying silent and losing himself in the heartbeat of the girl he had come to love.
"Can I ask you something?" the brunette broached, her brow furrowing in face of his silence.
He nodded.
"Have you ever… have you ever thought about what would happened if Class VII were to stay here, instead?"
Of course he had wondered. How could he not have? His time spent with Class VII had been the best of his life, and he would treasure the friendships he had forged until the day he died… but ultimately, as it always did, life needed to go on.
The idea of staying had been a fantasy. A wonderful, tempting fantasy that he only allowed himself to be lost in during the fleeting moment between awake and asleep, because he knew that as alluring as it was, it wasn't something he – or any of them – could afford to do. With Erebonia in the state that it was, extending their adolescence by a year just wasn't in the cards.
"I actually don't think much would have changed, barring a few developments here and there," he answered, his smile tinged with fond remembrance. "Rean, of course, would have once again embraced his role as the Student Council's loyal gofer. Elliot would continue making music with the Wind Orchestra, Gaius would keep on developing his artistic skills, Jusis would persist on being as insufferable as ever…"
"Fie's work with the Gardening club would have flourished, I'm sure of it," Emma chimed in, a smile of her own forming as she joined Machias in dreaming of what might have been. "As would Laura's drive to improve her swordplay and swimming. With Ferris and Alisa getting along better than ever, the Lacrosse Club would have been in even better shape than it was this year, and oh, the treats Millium would have made…"
He winced and was unable to keep from shuddering as an unpleasant memory brought itself to the fore. "I'm sure they would have been delicious, considering Margarita wouldn't have been able to provide assistance in any way, shape or form."
Emma tried valiantly to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up, she really did. "Mean."
"Accurate. They're hardly mutually exclusive."
He took her dainty eye roll for the concession that it was, but judging from the little poke she gave him he didn't quite hide his snicker well enough.
They remained in silence for a few moments before Emma's voice rang out again, this time having an odd air about it.
It was a mix of anticipation and nervousness, Machias realized afterward, and he understood that they were finally nearing that which had remained unspoken for so long.
"… I can't help but notice that you never mentioned us."
He exhaled. "I know."
Emma waited. She knew that particular tone all too well at this point, and she was nothing if not patient.
"I'm quite sure we would have remained in our capacities as the President and Vice President, respectively," he continued. "Planning out next year's festival event might have presented a bit of a problem though – "
"Hehe. We did set a high bar for ourselves, didn't we?" she agreed, pleased that they were able to look back at the concert with fond remembrance instead of the borderline dread that they all felt leading up to it. Even the outfits drew fond snickers instead of pained cringes.
"Indeed. I, of course, would have been trying my hardest to keep the Chess Club going in Stefan's stead, and I couldn't picture you doing anything but the same for the Literature Club."
Emma smiled at the mention of their respective extra-curricular haunts, happy memories of Dorothee playing in her head. "That sounds like a fair assessment. I'd like to think that I would have found some time to squeeze in more games with you next year – I'm pretty sure by the start of exams Stefan expected my coming and going as much as he did yours."
Machias chuckled and nodded. "By the same token, I was always in need of new reading material; I'm surprised it never occurred to me to just walk across the hall and peruse what your club had worked on. It couldn't have been any less than stellar."
Emma couldn't help but wince a little, pressing against him again with a faint blush. "M-Maybe it was for the best that you didn't until all of Dorothee's work was cleared out," she told him, more than a little thankful that circumstances had prevented Class VII as a whole from discovering just who certain characters in certain stories were based on.
After all, what he and Jusis didn't know couldn't hurt them, right?
"It occurs to me; it's amazing how my mentioning your club seems to draw the identical reaction across the board from most of the females in our year," Machias said, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and more than a bit of suspicion. "What exactly were you two writing in there, anyway?"
She smiled again, this time nervously – something that didn't reassure him in the slightest. "Oh, this and that… nothing special, really!"
"How wonderfully vague," the VP replied, rather enjoying the opportunity to return Emma's sentiment from earlier, much to her mock annoyance. "But I really would have liked to have come in more often after our games had wrapped up."
He paused, trying to work up his nerve.
"In fact, I'd like to think that next year we probably would have continued on like… well, just like this."
He could feel his face burning as he tried to look at anywhere but Emma, for fear he would embarrass himself even more – or worse yet, that he would crumble and fall under the weight of their shared truth.
She wouldn't have it.
"This?" she repeated, her hand coming up to brush the side of his face, and he leaned into the soft touch as she drew his gaze back towards her own.
"I-I mean to say that… you've been an excellent link partner, a worthy rival, a treasured friend, and I – this…"
"Machias?" she whispered, her mouth dry, and she was faintly aware of her heartbeat growing ever louder in her ears as everything else around her vanished into the din.
Why couldn't life be more like the novels she was so fond of getting lost in? The leads were fearless, there was no specter of uncertainty, and everything ended happily ever after without any wayward sister figures to chase or political games to master.
But then again, she thought when the young man in front of her favored her with a brave, shaky smile that made the earth come out from under her feet, there was something to be said for reality, too.
"This… this makes me happy," he admitted with chess and tea and books and a thousand and one other words for love swirling around in his head, and when he gazed into her sapphire eyes the boy swore he caught the faintest glimpse of heaven, a distant sanctuary that called out to him singing a song of hearth and home.
Beautiful.
"You make me happy," Machias breathed, his confession slipping as easily from his lips as a bird from a cage, and Emma wanted to say something, she truly did, but how could she? Her heart was just so full, so wonderfully full, that for once it was probably her that the spoken word would have let down, clumsy and imprecise as it was.
Instead she reached out to kiss him, affectionate and desperate and long since past due, and when he sighed against her lips and kissed her back it felt a little bit like consummation. Or perfection. Or something.
As she thought they might, words failed her. It was a failure that Emma found she could forgive.
There was something innately clumsy and experimental about the whole affair, but neither could bring themselves to care, lost in each other's warmth as they were, and when Emma broke away in a fit of giggles Machias couldn't even find it in himself to be anything but amused.
"That bad, was it?"
"I'm sorry," she half laughed and half gasped as she cuddled against him, her head pillowing against the crook of his neck. "It's just… I-I had always wondered what that was going to be like, and now…"
"And now you do. And you laughed," he retorted, lips twitching upwards with barely repressed mirth.
"Machias – "
"Don't get me wrong, I know that the romance genre traditionally avoids having hyena like laughter present during love scenes, but you Literature Club members have always been ones to buck convention – "
"T-That's just – it was *hardly* hyena like!" she protested, unable to keep the sunny smile off her face.
"But better after than before, I suppose. At least this way I got a kiss out of it," he continued with a playful smirk, and before he could say anything else he found himself pinned under Emma, her face riges above his own.
"Hush, you," she whispered, a mock pout working its way onto her delicate features before she leaned down to kiss him again, soft and sweet, and for the first and only time in his life Machias had no problem with being made to shut up.
Her hands traced their way down his brow and jawline as if she were trying to commit the contours to memory, and in turn Emma shivered at the sensation of his fingers dancing and weaving through her chestnut hair, sparks igniting with every touch.
When they finally parted and her head had settled on his chest, it was the green haired boy that wound up breaking the silence first.
"Emma."
"Yes?"
"You know that if… if only the Empire weren't so…"
She nodded against him, knowing exactly what he meant. "If only."
"I… I think I would have really enjoyed next year," he finished, the truth sounding weak and inadequate in the face of everything that was rushing to meet them, but it was all he had and he wasn't about to waste the courage bequeathed to him by the girl in his arms.
"I know," Emma soothed, reaching up to brush a few stray bangs away from his forehead, and she thought he looked far better with messy hair. "Me too."
They both wanted to say more. They both knew that there was little more to say.
"Your grandmother's going to be amazed at how far you've come," Machias said with a rush, feeling a little ridiculous at his brazen outburst (he had never met the woman, for one) but when he saw her brilliant smile he figured that it was worth the price.
"And you," she replied, reaching to tap him on the nose with a mischievous flourish, "are going to set quite the bar for everyone else in that school of yours."
"I intend to do just that, though without you to chase after it's not going to be the same," and he winced upon realizing that there was supposed to be a genuine compliment in there somewhere.
She rolled her eyes with no small amount of affection, his sentiment having gotten through loud and clear in spite of the uninspired delivery. "Oh, be still my beating heart - "
"As I was saying," he coughed with as much dignity as he could muster in the face of her amusement, "I plan to excel in every facet of academic life when I'm there. And when we see each other again… maybe I'll be able to meet you and everyone else as the person that I should be."
Emma nodded at him, her small gesture speaking volumes. Though she still thought he was being too hard on himself, if he needed this trial, if he needed to learn to see himself the way Emma saw him, then she would gladly see him off with a smile.
"Me too," she whispered back, relishing in the comfortable warmth of his arms holding her just that little bit closer. "I'll return to the village, show Grandmother everything that being a part of Class VII has taught me, and I'll become a witch strong enough to face down Vita and anyone that stands behind her, so that when we all reunite – I'll be ready for whatever comes our way."
There was none of the uncertainty that he witnessed on the Courageous; now he only saw simple, unwavering confidence, and Machias couldn't help the fierce pride that swept through him at the sight. "I know you will."
Neither one paid attention to the 'when' instead of 'if'. To Machias and Emma, it wasn't even a question. Not just them alone, but the entirety of their class had been part of something special, an exceptional group that had achieved far beyond what anyone could have expected, and it would take more than time and distance to fray those bonds.
Bitter as it was, they would separate for now. But they would continue to learn and grow, and when the time was right… Class VII would help change the world.
"You know, we probably shouldn't sound so resigned about all this," Emma mused out loud, a thoughtful look fixed on her face. "I mean, Erebonia does still have an excellent railway line, I've taught you all how runic communication works, and I don't think anyone is afraid of penning a good letter here and there."
"With my schedule, the latter's probably going to be the best option for a good long while," he admitted with a pained grimace, noting that he needed to add advanced rune theory to his list of research topics. "I do promise to write as often as I can though, assuming you stay in one place long enough for my letters to make it to you."
"Hehe. I'm holding you to that. I expect exciting stories of academic life that I can vicariously live through, Machias."
He snorted. "I think you're going to find out very quickly that Thors spoiled us in regards to how interesting academic life can be."
"Even so," Emma intoned with a musical laugh, "I'm sure I'll be very curious about this school of yours. I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of it you've gotten sick of replying to me!"
She had meant it as a joke – or at least, she thought she had.
When his expression sobered and his hand rose to ghost across her cheek, it was clear he hadn't taken it as such.
"W-What – " she started to say, the softness in his green eyes flustering her, and how that was still possible at this point she didn't know.
"Don't be ridiculous, Emma. It doesn't matter what happens – or doesn't happen - to me from here on out. It'd be absolutely impossible for me to get tired of you."
Words were going to abandon her for the second time in less than five minutes, she just knew it.
"So in the midst of stressful projects and final exams, with notes up to your ears and your sleep schedule non-existent, you'd still want to take the time to tell me things?" she asked, her cheeks burning again.
His smile was as gentle as she had ever seen it, and it was honest and open and only for her. "I think I'll always want to tell you things."
I love you.
She took a sharp breath as her vision began to waver and blur, and she held his hand to her cheek when it swept her tears away. "That's good, because I think I'll always want to listen."
I love you, too.
"I know it sounds…" he blurted out with a ring of embarrassed confession before trailing off, because Machias thought she deserved so much more than vague promises and talk of tomorrows.
She kissed him again, every bit as exhilarating and frightening as it was the first time, and with the taste of mint and hope came their final, mutual understanding.
This was utterly imperfect.
This was more than enough.
At long last, there was nothing more to be said.
He jumped a little when someone poked him in the side.
"Hey. I just thought of something."
Machias raised an eyebrow at the girl next to him, not particularly caring about the knowing smiles exchanged by his other classmates as they waited for their final trains. "What is it?"
"You never did tell me if Mr. Tiddles was a title or a name, did you?" Emma demanded, a playful grin crossing her lips.
"So I didn't. I managed to get the story from my dad, believe it or not. It's a long, complex tale – one might even call it epic, given the scope."
He bit down a laugh at her expectant look, and from a few arges away he caught Elliot chuckling beside Fie and Alisa. He was relieved to see the blonde join in with the ex-jaeger on asking the musician what was so funny; given who she was leaving behind, she needed to smile right now.
"Unfortunately, given the tight schedule that our trains are running on, it's also a tale that I'll be unable to tell today," he said with aplomb, and the indignant gasp was well worth it. "Do you think it might be able to be postponed until next time?" and they both knew what he meant.
She sighed long and loud to show her 'displeasure'. "I suppose," she mock grumbled, resting her head against his shoulder as Celine smirked at the sight from her vantage point in Emma's arms. "Next time, then."
Not that she really minded, of course.
(She had a feeling it'd be worth the wait).
AN: Originally, I wanted to write a shorter story focusing more on the whole 'what comes after Thors' idea, but it took on a life of its own (as my stuff usually does) when I saw Machias' dorm moment with Rean. When I combined that with my desire to explore an Emma and Machias that were more comfortable around each other, the result was… well, this.
Two bonus bits below that wouldn't have worked in the fic without breaking the stride, and one more coming as a separate chapter at some point because that's going to be a little long compared to the other two. Hope you guys enjoyed!
OMAKE
"There she is," Celine groused upon hearing the familiar rhythm of Emma's footsteps making their way up the stairs. "It's almost curfew, Emma - what were you doing out so late?"
Not that she was worried at all, of course. As a familiar, it was her duty to make sure that her partner was safe and sound at all times - a little bit of consideration would have gone a long way!
She schooled her expression into nonchalance when the door opened. "Well, look what the cat dragged in."
"I know, I know," the brunette laughed, setting her bag down on the table and taking a seat on her bed with a loud sigh, automatically reaching out to scratch Celine's ears. "I cut it close tonight. I made it on time, though!"
"Congratulations. You want a cookie?" the cat deadpanned, purring away at the attention. "What were you doing, anyw – "
And she stopped dead in her tracks when her sensitive nose registered a familiar scent surrounding Emma that absolutely no business being there, not unless…
"Oh, I had some matters to discuss with Machias about what Class VII should do for Instructor Sara," Emma replied, missing her pause entirely, and the slight flush and dreamy smile told Celine all she needed to know. "It… it took us quite a while to narrow down our ideas. We were reaching too much, we think."
"Huh. Well, I couldn't care less so long as *he* didn't reach too much," Celine thought with more than a hint of protective viciousness, only relaxing when she took a few more discreet sniffs and realized that nothing overly… untoward had taken place.
Good. That was a relief. She and Vita wouldn't be aunts and Regnitz wouldn't have to die. Win-win for everyone concerned.
At any rate, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised at this development. The writing had been on the wall – if anything, Celine was surprised it had taken them this long. Still, she had her duty as Emma's partner to ensure that she was taken care of, and she had performed it admirably.
That meant, of course, that she was free to do her duty as Emma's sister in all but species… and to be honest, this was a job she found much more fun.
"At least you got it done," Celine hummed, before fixing her with a long, exaggerated glance that drew a nervous stare from the witch, who was unable to keep from playing with the fabric of her skirt.
"… Is something wrong?" Emma asked, and Celine was relatively sure she hadn't heard that particular tone since she had accidentally blasted that tree down when she was eight.
"Not really," she replied, pawing away at a spot on the bed with apparent disinterest, camouflaging her intent to go for the kill. "I was just wondering how you managed to avoid questions about all the grass in your hair when you got in. Did you not run into anyone, or do you think maybe no one noticed?"
For lack of a better term, her reaction was magical.
"W-What!?" she cried, leaping to her feet and turning toward her mirror in a panicked rush, her eyes wide as they scanned her reflection. "There shouldn't have been any – "
Goddess, this was just too easy.
"Wow, Emma. I didn't think your face could go that red," Celine tossed out, smirking as the brunette's expression went from hysterical to confused to comprehending to absolutely mortified in the span of a few seconds.
"… That was mean."
"That was funny," the feline corrected, looking up to meet Emma's angry glare head on. "So, did you two have a good 'discussion'?"
"We're not talking about this."
"Must have been goooooood discussing considering how long you were out for and how big that grin was."
"W-We're not talking about this!"
"Hey, he's not going to do that to Sara, is he? I mean, I know you wanted to give your teacher a good sendoff, but pimping out your boyfriend just because you can't find the Viscount is a bridge too far, don't you think?"
"That is just – we are *not* talking about – you know what? I think it's bedtime. We're going to bed," Emma fumed, fists clenched at her sides and wearing a pout Celine hadn't seen in years. Where was Rex when you needed him?
"All right, all right. Take it easy," the feline placated, before fixing her with another thoughtful look as she made plans for later in the back of her mind. "Must feel weird though, saying that last part twice in one – "
"C-CELINE!"
OMAKE 2
"Wakey wakey, sunshine."
Machias stirred, not quite yet aroused from slumber. "Ugh… is someone there?"
An annoyed sigh. "And you're supposed to be smart. C'mon, show a little life, will you?"
A grumble from the green haired boy indicated that he was much closer to going back to sleep than doing what the voice said – something that changed very quickly when he felt the unpleasant sensation of sharp points digging into his torso.
"W-What the…!?"
"Oh, I have your attention now. Good." His glasses floated onto his face of their accord, letting him see just who was perched on his chest, and in a burst of clarity he understood just how much trouble he was in.
"… Celine."
"Morning. Well, kinda," the familiar greeted him in a casual drawl, before she flicked a glance at the door and the sound of the lock turning echoed in the small room with a decisive finality.
The boy paled.
"So," Celine said, turning back to him with a predatory gleam in her eyes, something only enhanced by the poorly lit room.
"S-So…?"
"I know this is overdue," the feline started, baring her teeth in what might have been generously termed a smile. "But I think it's time we have a little talk, you and I."
Machias swallowed hard, all vestiges of exhaustion having vanished into thin air.