Jimmy took a deep breath and stepped resolutely through the doors. Dr. Mallard could be scathing with his lectures, and he had no doubt that he was about to endure several hours of blistering comments about his lack of good sense.
'Ah, Mr. Palmer. I trust Agent Gibbs did a sufficient job of explaining why your behaviour yesterday was so egregious? Or do we have to discuss the matter further?'
He couldn't be that lucky, could he?
'Uh, yes. I mean, no. I mean, I think it was already talked about enough,' he stammered, trying to keep his voice casual, but pretty sure he didn't succeed. He turned away to hang up his coat, hoping to conceal his relief. He didn't want the ME to think he wasn't taking this seriously enough, or he would be getting a longer lecture. Making sure he wasn't smiling, he turned back around, only to freeze in shock at the sight of the wooden implement in his supervisor's hand.
'Right, then, let's get this over with, shall we?'
Time seemed to grind to a halt. He didn't reply... couldn't reply. And despite his overwhelming desire to turn and flee, he couldn't convince his feet to work.
'Now, Mr. Palmer, if you please.'
The matter-of-fact tone, the expectation of compliance, finally snapped him out of his daze and he staggered backwards until he hit the wall.
'No. Nonononono. No way. You can't...'
'Oh, I assure you, I can. And I shall.'
'But... that's... I can't...'
Jimmy gestured helplessly towards the older man's hand, unable to put his fears into words.
'Generations of schoolboys have survived such a chastisement, Mr. Palmer, and so will you. Now, come. Making a fuss is not going to make it any easier...'
Jimmy found himself taken firmly by the arm and guided towards the same desk that had been the scene of his believed rescue the night before. His thoughts reeling, his heart pounding wildly, he allowed himself to be returned to his prone position.
His last coherent thought before a blaze of pain drove everything else from his mind was that he should have just let Gibbs punish him last night.