Professor Layton and the Rewritten Return –Part 9—

Hershel rubbed his tired his eyes with a forefinger and thumb, sitting up in bed. A light flickered down the hallway, indicating that Clive was still very much awake. Hershel glanced at the clock beside his bed. It was well past three a.m.—was the boy really still hard at work?

Hershel rose and padded softly out of his room and down the hall. "Clive?"

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Clive said, spinning a compass expertly between his fingers and drawing a wide circle across his plans.

"I should be asking you that, my boy. You've been at it like this every night since you came here."

"There's no rest for the wicked, professor," Clive replied. Hershel paused, unable to gauge whether Clive was joking or being quite serious.

"You'll become ill."

"I'm fine."

"Become indicates the future."

"Yes, but as long as I am fine, I can continue working."

Hershel sighed. Arguing would get them nowhere. "All work and no play—"

"Gets Jack a master's in engineering," Clive finished. "Are you having a bought of insomnia, professor? You rarely visit at night."

"Yes, I suppose I am. May I come in?"

"Let me clear up a bit first," Clive replied, putting his compass away and quickly stacking his blueprints in a neat pile. He rolled them up and put them away carefully in the desk drawer. "There we go, that should do it."

"Organized desk, organized mind," Hershel said.

"Indeed." Clive stood, turning to face the professor. "I'm afraid I don't know the social convention for this sort of event, actually. Am I to get you warm milk?"

"No," Hershel laughed, "I am quite alright. I'm the one bothering you, after all."

Clive shrugged vaguely. "It doesn't trouble me. Night is when I'm most alert, after all."

"A true night owl, eh, my boy? I suppose it comes with youth."

"The best thinking is done at night because no one is awake to distract you. It's peaceful."

Hershel frowned. "So I am being a bother."

"No. As you said, professor, I should take a break once in a while. I fear I was approaching upon artist's block again, anyway. Perhaps this will relieve it."

"Do you want me to look over your plans? I am no engineer, of course, but I may be able to help."

A funny look came over Clive's face. "Ah, no, that's quite alright." He looked away awkwardly. "I would much prefer you to see the real thing first. Or perhaps the prototype model. I am indebted to you, after all—this park is my gratitude."

"Clive, I'm…I don't know what to say. Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, professor," he replied with a tilted half smile. "I could never have come so far without you."

"No, no, it was all on your own strength." Hershel shook his head.

"That's what you say," Clive said. "I believe the truth is something of a different matter." For a moment his eyes lingered sadly on the floor. He then turned back to the professor. "Now, how about we heat some milk? We can't have you falling asleep during tomorrow's lecture, after all. A true gentleman always stays awake in front of students!"

Layton smiled. "Indeed he does."