Sorry I didn't upload last week! I should be able to second chapter done today, but we'll see how it goes, enjoy!


Chapter 6: Decorating the Dorm

Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, tap, tap-tap… Hershel couldn't bring himself to say so, but Clark tapping his pen on the table with such an irregular beat was driving him to the edge of insanity. His friend was staring intently at the clock, which stated that it was only a matter of seconds before their first weekend at Gressenheller.

"... And that must bring this lesson to an end, please bring your textbooks to the front and I hope you have a productive and restful weekend." However, most of Dean Delmona's sentence was drowned out by the rustling of books and relieved sighs, shortly followed by comfortable chatter. Hershel and Clark had recently moved to the front row of the classroom, and Clark practically leapt over the desk to return their book. Although he thought Clark was getting a little over the top, Hershel knew he had reason to be excited, Clark had had this weekend planned out for a few days now: He was going to spend the rest of that Friday studying with Hershel, most of Saturday decorating his room and exploring the area, then spending the evening at the pub with some friends (an invitation Hershel had turned down due to his lack of experience with alcohol). Then Sunday was to be devoted to more studying and just plain mooching about. Hershel wondered if all his weekends were planned this way, or if the excitement of university had had this effect on him. Clark whizzed back to his side and began to pack up his things, yattering in such excitement Hershel could barely workout what he was saying.

"Ah! Clark, Hershel!" Mr. Delmona called to them, waddling over. Unlike Dr. Schrader, who always addressed the two as Triton and Layton, Dean Delmona always used his students first names. Although he preferred this friendly approach, Delmona was not the best at remembering names, but Clark and Hershel were about to find out why theirs had made such an impression.

"Mr. Delmona." Hershel smiled to him and tipped his hat (which was becoming a bit of a habit), the room was half empty now, and Dean Delmona was watching as the others left, as if he were about to discuss some great secret. "... Is, is everything alright?" Hershel inquired, thoughtfully. The teacher gave a jolly laugh.

"Of course! Of course, its just, well…" Once again he checked for listeners. "You see, Andrew told me of your talent with puzzles."

"Andrew?" Clark was confused for a moment, then "... Oh! Dr. Schrader!"

"Indead. Well, you see, I have a bit of a problem. I have a little girl at home, who is so proud to have a professor as a father, and often boasts at school about how intelligent her dear old man must be…" He coughed awkwardly. "However… She sometimes feels the need to… test… this intelligence." He reached into his bag, and pulled out a small piece of card. "She gave me this today, and for the life of me I cannot solve the thing! Andrew usually helps me with these puzzles, but he's busy today, and I can't bear to pick my girl up from school without the answer she craves." He pushed the card in their direction. "so if you wouldn't mind, could you take a quick look at it?" A sideways glance at Clark told Hershel that his friend minded very much, but, well, he'd been brought up to help those in need…

"... All right, sir, we'll take a look."


"Well, that wasn't that bad." Hershel remarked when they had finally left the lecture theatre. There were only a few people left lingering around in the hallways, indicating they had been held back some time.

"Hmm..." Was Clark's only reply. He was hanging his head in annoyance.

"Is… something the matter?" Hershel asked, concerned.

"Oh, nothing, it's just…" He grinned to himself and shook his head. "You would never have guessed that Dr. Schrader could be so… Sneaky!"

"Pardon?"

"Well, think about!" Clark was about to start a full on rant. "He must have been sick to death with having to solve the poor old man's puzzles! Then the moment some half decent puzzle solvers show up, he sets Delmona onto us! Now we're stuck with him!" Hershel couldn't help but chuckle at this dramatic display. Clark paused, then laughed with him in spite of himself. Although Clark was an excellent friend, scenarios like this made Hershel happy, yet uncomfortable, as if this all felt far too… familiar. "Anyway," Clark continued. "Looks like we're stuck with him now, I just hope that daughter of his appreciates this!"

"Honestly" Hershel mumbled. "I think he appreciates it a whole lot more than his daughter does, and besides," he faced Clark once more. "I dare say he'll forget about us soon."

...Little did he know then that, in twenty years time, he would still be solving puzzles for Dean Delmona...


After climbing what felt like at least the twentieth set of stairs, they finally reached Hershel's door. "You are seriously lucky to have your own room!" said Clark for the seventh time as Hershel searched his pockets for the keys. "I mean, I have to share with three other guys, and none of them seem to know how the shower works"" Hershel laughed.

"Well, my room is nothing special," he said modestly.

"Oh, come on!" Clark exclaimed as Hershel opened the door. "I'm sure it's really-..." His sentence was cut off upon entering the room. The little light that came through the window was dull, making the little furniture there was look dark and almost dusty, which, overall, wasn't a flattering effect. "... Urmm… Hrmm… It's…" Clark tried to say something nice, then gave up . "... To be honest, it looks like an abandoned motel room."

"Well, I have only been here a week." Hershel returned, a little hurt.

"Yes, but…" He switched on the light, which made next to no difference. "Didn't you bring anything from home? Like, pictures or ornaments?" Hershel shook his head. He had, in fact, packed some personal belonging, but had got rid of them as soon as he could. Lucille had insisted that he took some of his things to Gressenheller, but Hershel had stressed that if he wanted to start fresh, bringing his old things along the way wouldn't do. He had brought as little as possible, making the excuse that he wanted his room to look just like it always had on his visits home. When Roland and Lucille had left, he took it all to the dump.

Clark threw his bag and books onto the bed, then jumped on himself. "You know what?" He said decidedly, steadying himself on the bouncing mattress. "Forget studying, we're gonna give this place a 'makeover', as a girl would say."

"Hmm?"

Clark threw his arms up. "Revision is depressing enough without having to do it in this dismal cupboard of a room, no offence." Hershel made a gesture to say none was taken. "But anyway, on my way to classes I pass by this place where leaving students sell the furniture they can't take with them for really low prices. Sure, most of it is pretty worn, but still in one piece." He looked over at the uncertain Hershel. "You have money, right?"

".. Yes."

"Saving up for anything?"

"Nope."

"Any reason not to spend it?"

"No."

"Then we're settled!" Clark jumped back up and headed back through the door. Hershel watched him for a minute, bemused. "You'll thank me, I promise." Clark called to him. Sighing, Hershel threw his own bags to the bed, found the envelope Roland had given him and followed his friend, locking the door behind him.


The trip turned out to be very successful. They found the place Clark had mentioned where the first thing that caught their interest was a wooden desk. It was true that Hershel need a desk, and this one looked quite fancy other than a few dents here and there. The only problem was that the owner was charging £80 for it, which was a bit more than Hershel was willing to spend. Clark was having a good haggle over the thing when he noticed Hershel was no longer listening to his efforts, but looking else where. After a moment Clark realised it was a small, round table with a china tea set arranged on it that had captured Hershel's gaze. He gave the man a nudge with is elbow, awakening him from his daydreaming. "You carry on looking around," he said with a smile. "I'll get this for the lowest price I can."

"Which will be £70 and no less, Mr Triton." The owner interrupted crossly.

"Really? Well, you see, I still haven't gotten to the fact that there's a draw missing."

"There is not!"

"Oh? Then will you please explain these rails to me?"

Hershel drifted towards the table he'd spotted. The owner looked tired and hopeless, as if he'd been there weeks, but when he saw Hershel approaching his face lightened, like a tied up dog upon seeing a bone. Hershel nodded politely and examined the table; it looked like it was in very good shape, quite pretty actually, but the excellent condition made Hershel fear the price. "H- how much is this, sir?" He asked nervously, he could the owner was trying to suppress his excitement.

"£25"

"W-what?" Hershel was sure he'd heard incorrectly. "Did you say…?"

"You heard me, £25, well £35 if you include these." He tapped on a matching wooden chair, identical to the one he was sat on.

"But, why are they so cheap?" He was having hard time getting his head around his luck. The man just shrugged.

"Cut a long story short, I've had them since I was a kid, and when was about to go to Uni my parent were talking about getting rid of them. That idea hurt me so much I brought them here with me." He sigh sadly. "Unfortunately, middle of last year I found out I was going to be moving into a smaller dorm, where there's barely enough room for a bed each, let alone my beloved table and chairs. I've been trying to get them off my hands ever since, but no one's ever taken any interest, and I can't bring myself to take them to the tip, so the price just got lower and lower." Hershel ran his fingers along the surface of the table.

"Sounds like it's been very loved." He almost muttered.

"That's all I want for it now, a loving home." There was a short pause, the owner opened his mouth to speak, when Clark came jogging over.

"Guess what, Hershel? I got the blighter for 50 quid! And not only that, but he threw in a free desk chair! A free desk chair!" He leaned in and whispered. "So that I'd keep my mouth shut about some dodgy secrets in some of his stock." He grinned at Hershel, who gave him a grateful smile. "So," he folded his arms. "Shall we get our winnings back to your place?"

"Yeah," Hershel agree, elated by the results. He hesitated a moment, before addressing the owner of the table. "And I'll take all of this as well."


After realising they had no way of getting their shopping back to the dorm, the man who had sold them the table and chairs offered to drive it there in his truck. Once there he also helped them carry the desk up the seven flights of stairs, Hershel could only guess this was out of pure gratitude for taking such a burden off his hands. Once everything was in the room, he and Clark spent about half an hour finding the best homes for everything. The end result was a little cramped, but neat and homely. "Nice, very nice…" Clark commented when they'd finished, as Hershel fell face first onto his bed. Clark raised an eyebrow, his next words had a trickle of cruel pleasure about them. "... But we're not done yet!" It was all Hershel could do not to groan.

Their next trip brought them back with the following items: A small kettle to go with the tea set that had come with the table (although they were yet to work out how to keep milk in his room), a calendar, a desk lamp, two small, framed paintings, a letter set and a new lamp shade. Clark then rushed over to his own dorm and back for a hammer and nails and proceeded to bang a few into the walls. Once everything was hung up and arranged, they put up the new light shade and switched on the bulb (it was dark by that time they'd finished), the room was aglow in such a way that it hadn't since Hershel moved there, Clark stepped back and grinned. "That's better!" He exclaimed with joy, and Hershel had to agree.

Then they had dinner. Clark had brought some sandwiches and sausage rolls which they ate cold. When finished, Clark lay back in his chair and looked around at his work. "You know, when we first got here about six hours ago, I wanted to get out as quickly as possible, but now, I don't wanna leave." All the same he picked up his things and made for the door. "See you on Sunday, Hershel."

"Clark." The man stopped and turned. "... Thank you." Clark smiled back at him.

"Told you you would." Then he left, closing the door behind him. Hershel cleared up the things from their meal, then settled down for bed, feeling for the first time that this place could become home.