CALM HANGOVERS

This woman that you have become, you know that she's a keep. Except you keep her underwraps in case someone should break her…. I guess I'm mad because I am and I've tried this all before.

Fire with Fire by AliceBand

For the first time in at least a hundred years, she heads into school to work the next morning with a hangover that threatens to split open her skull. At least she actually remembers the events of the night - mostly. She blames most of it on the bottle she opened after Shota had left, which is when her memory of the night starts to blur together. He was kind enough to see her home, even if most of her liquor had worn out of her system by then. He had politely stayed at the base of her front porch, giving her plenty of privacy while he waited until she had the door unlocked to leave. She makes a note that she'll have to do something as a thank you, after all he did pay for the dinner and she admittedly, enjoyed his company. She tells herself that there's nothing wrong with two friends going to dinner late at night after sharing a few drinks and having pleasant conversation, but something about the night still plays in the back of her mind, igniting a feeling akin to excitement.

"Shit."

She mutters the curse under her breath as she enters the building, the fluorescent lights assaulting her eyes. She opts for dark sunglasses that she hopes passes as more of an accessory to help her eyes adjust to the lights, but that hope is thrown out the window when she sees that she's not the only one in the teacher lounge that morning using such a tactic.

"You too, huh?"

Present Mic's voice is not even half as loud as usual, coming off more tired as he lazily looks up at her. His usually yellow shades were replaced for something darker and more solid. He lowers them slightly as he looks at her, showing the bags under his eyes and the exhausted look on his face. She may be imagining it, but it doesn't even seem as though he's gelled his hair as normal, with it looking a bit more limp and relaxed than usual.

"I doubt she's as bad as either of us, Hizashi," Nemuri lightly scolds, the smile on her face is playful, but even her eyes are hidden behind shades.

"I think the bottle of wine I finished after getting home would disagree," Florence comments dryly as she slowly takes a seat, head still throbbing. She gives a pointed look to the two beside her, "-At the very least, Shota had been kind enough to see me home after the two of you had left."

Neither of them have the decency to look sheepish or embarrassed, with Hizashi lightly commenting on that he had a group of people of his own that he had to 'see home' while Nemuri leans forward with a devilishly knowing smile, her eyes twinkling.

"So it's Shota now, is it?"

Her head is throbbing too much for this and she catches the eyes of a few of the other staff members in the lounge; even Vlad is poorly hiding the fact that he is listening, visibly amused as he raises a curious brow. She can feel the warmth blossom from her cheeks down her neck as she refuses to make eye contact with anyone. A feeling of something bubbles in her chest, akin to embarrassment and not quite used to being the center of attention in this manner. It makes her feel a bit hypocritical, knowing that she can tease just as easily as Nemuri, but can't quite seem to take it when it's directed at her.

"Friends call each other by their first names."

Shota steps in, saving Florence from engaging in the conversation; Florence didn't even hear him enter the room, but his voice rings out from behind her and she cranes her neck backward to glance at him, shades falling down her nose to reveal just enough to show how tired her eyes look. Shota doesn't act like any of this is surprising, instead handing Florence one of the two coffee cups he holds, of which she accepts gratefully.

Midnight dramatically pouts at the game being ruined, while Present Mic gives Shota a confused, and calculated look as if Shota had done something he can't decipher. Florence ignores it for now, not quite noticing the way Shota refuses to look Hizashi in the eyes.

"Do you think we need to take it easy today for the first years," Florence turns to Shota questionably, a bit of worry in her eyes. "One week of rest is enough for them to get over what happened. They're just kids."

Kids that saw their first serious hero fight. Kids that were forced to fight villains for the first time. Kids that shouldn't have seen two of their teachers get so fucked up, unsure if their teachers or even if their peers were going to live or die. She swallows that part down, but Shota catches the look in her eyes and his gaze softens.

She doesn't have to say much for him to know, to understand. He can only guess exactly what it is that she is holding back considering he has similar thoughts. They're supposed to be teaching children to be heroes, not create child soldiers. They're supposed to protect their kids so that something like this doesn't happen and in that regard, he can't help but feel like he failed them.

"The entire class is going to be with Hound Dog for therapy. Group sessions once a week for a few weeks with alternating private sessions as long as needed. I don't expect any of them to recover fast from this or know how to process it."

All Might, towering in the corner, and who, for the most part, doesn't often enter staff conversations speaks up. She's sure that she's heard and seen the man a few times talking privately with Shota or Nezu, but in group settings, he seems almost - unsure of himself. Unconfident. An odd word to associate with the symbol of peace, but she knows more than anyone that heroes - even the number one - are still just human. But he offers his opinion openly and she can understand immediately why he doesn't seem to engage often.

"Have faith in your class, Eraserhead. They are young heroes after all, I am sure that this experience will do nothing but make them stronger."

She downs the rest of her coffee; the warmth of it burning her throat, but she makes a side note that Shota seems to have nailed exactly how she likes the beverage. She shares a glance with Shota and knows that she is not the only one unpleased by the wording. An unspoken conversation seems to pass between them before Shota seems to agree that she should be the one to say something; she does so with a confidence that Shota will back her up if needed.

"All Might." Florence's voice cuts through like ice, a deadly calm that seems to shake the large hero who turns to her with an uneasy expression. "I am sure that you mean well by that expression, but I hope that you realize that as both a pro hero and a teacher that brushing off a traumatic experience that a child goes through will only have dire consequences."

Hound Dog is the only most vocal about his agreement, even if is muffled by growls as he stares down All Might harshly. Florence is sure that as the guidance counselor that if given the chance, he would have ripped into the pro hero himself as well. Despite his appearance, she has noticed that his temper only seems to flare with the professionals - and not once has she heard or spotted him growling at the students.

"It is important to remember that these children are training to become pro heroes and they are not quite yet young heroes. And that their training does not put them in genuine harm's way and is in a controlled environment surprised by professionals. Doing anything different from that means that we have failed as teachers and mentors."

All Might squirms under constructive criticism and to his credit, he does seem embarrassed as he mumbles out an apology and a correction. Her expression doesn't soften with any sort of pity, but she does sigh.

"This is your first year teaching, isn't it?"

At his sheepish nod, she continues. He makes the foolish mistake that it means she'll go easy on him. She lowers the shades enough to make direct eye contact with him, despite the hangover, her gaze still cuts through him sharply. He's a professional, the professional, and one of the oldest staff members (granted, none hold a candle to her hidden age). Even if it is his first year teaching, he should show more common sense in handling the children and at the very least, recognize that they are indeed children. Otherwise, she has seen first hand what can happen when someone makes a mistake - her own mistakes - or when children - her children - are forced to fight the battles.

In the back of her mind, she remembers her time at Xavier's Academy. A school that, arguably, did something similar; they taught hidden teenagers and children to control their abilities, but in turn, they weren't as against using them to fight battles even if it was as 'optional' as they pushed. The events that followed have made her against following the same path. It hurt seeing so many children she helped shape die in her arms only to see more death and destruction with the war that followed soon after.

She blinks. The wounds are still raw and open. So much to swallow in such a short amount of time. It seemed like all she did was blink. All in a blink of an eye, a small slot in her lifetime. Her students are dying and fighting for a battle that proved to be hopeless. A fleeting moment of peace and an array of hope in the form of her son's birth, only to be darkened by her husband's death. A war that emerges as more quirk users are born, led by the only man who genuinely scared her, one that seemed to steal other's quirks to give them to those more worthy. Protecting her son only to then watch him disappear from her forever.

"Then I suggest you learn now before you make a mistake. You're the number one hero, act like it."

Her voice is sharp, face shadowed, as she stares down the symbol of peace. The larger man swallows thickly, sheepish and ashamed.

Shota barely hides his smirk, discreetly pulling up his scarf to hide more of his face. He almost feels proud, but there's almost just something about watching the five foot five inch tall woman stare down the just over seven feet tall symbol of peace; and seeing the latter openly squirm under her gaze. Florence, he will admit, has this strong aura around her that seems to really show through in moments like this. The type of intimidation that is mastered only by the underground pros.

He knows that she wants to say more and rip into the other hero, the fire blazing in her eyes. He admires the fact that she both speaks her mind and opinion so openly and honestly, without seeming to care who it is directed at, while still at least knowing when to pick her battles. He catches her gaze when she stands up to leave and offers a nod, signaling that she did a good job, and her hard expression finally softens with a smile.