Class with Professor Morningstar wasn't exactly what Aziraphale had anticipated. Their first class consisted primarily of extended discussion of case studies from their reading - which Aziraphale hadn't done, for reasons both in and out of his control - so he'd been maintaining what, to him, was a rather embarrassed silence, listening to the discussions between the other students and the professor in favor of contributing his own thoughts.

Morningstar was a showman, through and through. Arrogance seeped into each move as he practically strutted around the classroom, and each word dropped from sneering lips with too much self-confidence for a teacher of such an uncertain and subjective discipline. He demanded complete attention - he even shouted at a few of the students for taking notes in "too obtrusive" a manner - and perfect respect. Morningstar definitely wasn't the type to share any stage with anyone else, which was annoying in and of itself, but also left Aziraphale mystified as to why exactly Morningstar bothered to have a Teacher's Assistant, since he didn't allow Crowley to chime in at all, even on questions that might better be answered by people closer to the age of the students.

Worse, while Aziraphale found the case studies extremely interesting, Morningstar's advice was despicable in each and every case. His thoughts ran in only the most cynical directions, making the choices that benefited him over those that benefitted the greater good. The man was slowly but surely falling in Aziraphale's estimation, lowering himself to the point that Aziraphale regarded him with anything from distaste to scorn to the emotion as close to hate as Aziraphle could possibly get.

Morningstar smiled, his expression sharp as a shark as he looked out at the class. "Alright, then… let's take a look at the following possibility. An old lady living alone with no means of income sent all of her savings to your client, but he spent it on drugs and women." He paused, gesturing for Crowley to proffer the roster, skimming through it without paying attention to Crowley's visible frustration. "Mr. Wensleydale… would you take the case?"

Wensleydale looked uncomfortable at being addressed, but he stood and, despite a rather timid voice, answered with conviction. "Actually, I wouldn't take that case."

"Wrong!" Morningstar barked out his response, steepling his fingers in front of him and looking out at the class with a predatory glare. "Darlings, you disappoint me… This would be an easy win. Grandma hasn't any savings and, thus, no good lawyer. It'll be simple to convince the jury that she wasn't of sound mind, get your client off, and then get some of those ill-gotten gains." He sighed, then continued. "Lessons #1: you can't worry about morals." The word was emphasized negatively, dark and distasteful in the professor's mouth. "That's for the weak and pretentious. You want to succeed, you'll look for the cases that you can win."

Morningstar paused, thinking for a few seconds before once more beginning to speak. "A particularly rich client works as a hit man for the mafia, but he failed to carry out one of his contracts; instead, he hit a nun with his car. Additional collateral damage ensued, in the form of…" He trailed off, then seemed to seize on an idea. "Three puppies." He turned, beckoning Crowley over once more and taking a minute or two to select another name from the list. "Miss Moonchild-"

Pepper interrupted. "Pepper."

Morningstar frowned, his voice annoyed. "Pepper, would you take the case?"

She snorted. "What, you think I wouldn't take the case because I'd have to deal with a typical man?"

Morningstar smiled, but Aziraphale could see an edge of derision in it, and he steeled himself for whatever was to follow. The professor chuckled. "Oh, you feminists think you're so tough."

Pepper shot to her feet so quickly Aziraphale was surprised she wasn't across the room and punching him. "Excuse me-"

Morningstar chuckled again, hastening to interrupt. "Oh, darling, did my comment offend?" He snorted. "You're not going to be able to argue well if you can barely speak. Lesson #2: keep a lid on your emotions."

He started pacing again, strutting back and forth. "I cannot stress enough how important it is to be… for lack of a better term, cutthroat. You cannot afford morals. You cannot afford weakness. You do what you have to do, no matter what." He sniffed, nose wrinkling slightly as he did so. He was silent, but in a way that told of more - and serious - words to follow. "Each year, I choose four people from this class to be part of an internship at my company. Only the best and brightest of my class will be able to take part, so…" He paused, sitting on Crowley's desk again and crossing his legs at the ankles. "Pay attention. Lesson #3… most important of all that I've mentioned thus far… you aren't friends. You aren't colleagues. You owe each other nothing. You are to do what you must - bite, scratch, chew, clamber over one another, I don't care - to get that internship. Understood?"

A nod passed through the crowd of students, and Morningstar smiled, standing. He looked back at the roster, skimming through it. "Aziraphale Fell…" He looked out across the crowd, trying to find Aziraphale, and it took great courage for to raise his hand and attract the room's attention. Morningstar nodded, opening his book and selecting a passage from within it. "Mr. Fell… please summarize the case of R. P. Tyler vs. the Tadfield Education Board."

Aziraphale stood, nervously straightening his vest and bow tie. "Sir… I do believe… That is, I mean to say…" He paused, cringing slightly as he finished his sentence. "I don't believe that I can answer this question." Morningstar frowned, glancing down at his book again, but Aziraphale continued talking. "Or… well, that is to say, I don't believe I can accurately answer anything from that book. As of now. In a day or two, maybe. I'd be happy to… Well…"

Morningstar interrupted. "You mean to tell me that you haven't done the reading?" Aziraphale stuttered his way through a negative answer, eyes focused on the floor rather than on the professor or his classmates. He could hear the sudden intake of breath from the other students and heard the professor clearing his throat, but he didn't look up.

Which is why he was surprised to hear Morningstar speak in a rather calm voice, his words spilling out into the classroom, but not directed at Aziraphale. "Miss Michael… Let's say you teach a class. A student hasn't read the course materials and cannot answer any question you put to them. What do you do?"

The same cool, barbed voice from earlier cut into the silence. "Throw him out." Aziraphale could envision the smug look on her face without turning around, but he did anyway, making a point of remembering her face, hair, outfit… everything.

Then, Morningstar talked, shaking him from his thoughts. "Well, darling, you've heard her. Get your things and go." Aziraphale nodded and started to comply, but stilled again as the professor's voice once more filled the room. "And, when you come back, try to read the material?"

Aziraphale nodded, returning his notebook and pen to his bag before picking it up and heading to the door. The halls of Eden Building greeted him as he stepped outside, wide and unfamiliar. Slowly, the creaking of the door filled the hall, heavy wooden doors slamming shut behind him.

So much for being serious.