+ + +
"I told the idiot not to give him a sedative." Noin sighed irritably. "Now the kid's knocked out cold."
"He gave more to Odin," Milliardo mused. "And that one's wide-awake."
At the mention of the name, Noin glanced out the office door's window to verify that Odin was still in the room across the hall.
"Odin," she remarked, "has the constituency of a wolf."
"Did you call John's parents?"
"No; I didn't want to bother them. They'd drop everything if I did." Noin turned to a stack of papers precariously balanced on the office desk. It was her office, and the messy pile of documents was the only thing glaringly out of place - Noin was immaculate about keeping the office neat.
"Who are the parents again?" Milliardo queried, reaching out to help her. She refused with a shake of her head, so he shrugged and sat down.
"You met them before," she answered, sorting through the papers quickly. "We were at their house for the summer Festival. They were also at the symposium two weeks ago."
"Oh, the ones who helped serve the food?"
"No, that was Kate's parents. John's are the coastal farmers."
He was frequently amazed at her extensive knowledge of the Cinq families. It was quite possible she was on a personal basis with half the country, purely through her students. It was amusing to see her interact with the families; they seemed to see her as an adoptive aunt for the gaggles of agricultural families that comprised much of Cinq's population. And Noin was happy that way.
"Now I remember them. Yes, I agree. We'll have to call them before John leaves, though."
As if he had heard that particular comment, John groggily lifted his head from the simple couch that was temporarily occupying the far side of Noin's office. "I-instructor Noin?"
"Yes, John?" Noin left the papers on the desk, a frown coming over her face. "You okay?"
"Headache." The shy, impish fourteen-year-old rose to a sitting position, and then seemed to be come slightly panicked. "Where's Odin?"
"He's in another office." Noin paused, glanced over at Milliardo. "What the hell were you fighting over, John?"
John stared at the floor, silently.
"You have to help us figure out what happened, John," Noin admonished. "I won't tolerate fighting between my students."
"He said something about Aylee," John mumbled.
The door squeaked as it entered an out-of-breath student, John's age. "Instructor?"
"Gabe, where's Aylee?"
"She went home." Gabe's words were labored; most likely he had run up the stairs to the office from the outer school buildings where the younger students took classes.
"Were you there when the fight started?" Noin's voice was quiet, devoid of annoyance but evidently disappointed in her pupils.
"Yes," Gabe admitted. "I wanted to come and see if John could leave yet."
"He can." Noin leaned over the desk and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I'll expect both of you back here half an hour before class, with Aylee. Odin will be here too." The students left the office quickly, embarrassed.
"What are you going to do about them?"
Milliardo, despite the evident gravity of the situation, felt amusement. A bare five years ago, things would have been so much worse. The transfer of the terrorist's son, as a favor more than anything, had been the worst crisis they'd had for weeks. The world had very much changed since he had renounced his title, seven years prior.
Noin sat down, shrugging slightly. "John's a good kid. I wouldn't want to put anything like this on his record. And if this is about Aylee, then…"
"Aylee? The red-haired one?"
She nodded. "She's around ten. The orphan."
"Then you think Odin's the one at fault."
"For instigating it? Yes. But John shouldn't have been fighting to begin with; I swear… We may not have a total-pacifism policy anymore, but I can't let anything like this happen again." Noin seemed upset. "We might have to look into expelling Odin."
"He does have a violent record." Milliardo shook his head. "But, still…"
In the shifting, late afternoon light, Milliardo's platinum-colored hair became transparent, and Noin could clearly see the burns that marred his face. He was still rather self-conscious about them, though on occasion he would poke fun at them himself. Noin still insisted they didn't look badly.
"I don't want to expel him. But I have to think of the others."
She stared out the now-open door. The door leading to the office where Odin was, drowsy but not asleep even after the sedatives, was firmly closed. Noin had chosen not to lock it, even though she was tempted to do so.
"The administration should have rules about this." Milliardo offered her a way out of the decision, even though he knew she would most likely not take it. "Talk to them. This is supposed to be their call."
"I still have to be the one to tell them what to do," Noin said wryly. "And there is the matter of your sister."
"I know." At that unwelcome mention, Milliardo rolled his eyes. "So my sister's smitten with the student."
"And Treize thought we were socially unacceptable." Noin smirked, the gravity of the decisions evaporating with the turn of subject.
"I'm sure she'll grow out of it," Milliardo insisted, more to convince himself than her. "That's what my mother says, at least…"
"Your mother coddles her." Noin met his displeased glance evenly. "And you do too. Someday you're going to have to knock some sense into her - I'm not saying she shouldn't try to go after Odin, but she should try to work. She's eighteen already."
He frowned, not wanting to answer. "Did you decide if you're going to run for senator after your term comes up?"
"I'm not going to run. I'm going to stay here and teach." She let him change the subject, not wanting to pursue the other one anyway. "Besides, it wasn't as if we had competition last term. The public trusts us too much."
"You'd rather they'd be cynical and democratic?"
"Yes. If it makes them any more likely to make their own decisions."
"That's why you like teaching, isn't it?" Milliardo asked, curious. "To teach them how to make their own choices."
Noin smiled.