Face left the empty classroom at around lunch-time, calmly walking towards the school auditorium whilst eating the cooked foreleg of the Beowulf as though it were a fried chicken giblet. His left hand in his pocket, rifle over his shoulder, and all his other gear secured, he gnawed away at the oily bicep, getting dodgy looks from students as he went by. He didn't really give a shit: It was the best thing he'd eaten for fucking ages. Tasted almost exactly like chicken, making it all the better when he discovered that Grimm claws are made of a super-hard and insoluble version of salt. That explained why it apparently hurt like hell to be clawed by one: The wound would be salted on contact. So Face had the brilliant idea to grind the claws up with the butt of his rifle and use it as was intended: As salt, to be put on meat.

"I'm a fuckin' genius," Face muttered to himself as he went by the windows to the school's dinner hall. Inside, there was a huge feast for the students, and apparently that was lunch for them. Face wasn't really partial to big meals. A meal for him would normally be some small rodent that made the mistake of straying into his perch, cooked after the battle using a dead Pyro's flamethrower. Though, since that day he had been fired, Face did sometimes think of getting hold of some 'White Phosphorous'. Using it, seeing what it actually does. He hadn't really seen it in action, but according to everyone else, it was horrible, so to Face, seeing enemies affected by the substance must be a glorious sight to behold.

He was often called sadistic; a psychopath with no regard for how painful things could be. Of course he understood that: Disciplinary Actions, for one, were fucking excruciating, making Glynda all that more terrifying. She was definitely a woman that Face would not want to be drawn towards. "Scary bitch," he said out loud. A few students looked towards him, and he just shrugged it off, finally pulling the forearm free from the...bone that was next to the shoulder.

Not the...hilarious bone, no, that wasn't it...

Blagh. Fuck it. Face wasn't Medic. He only knew that the head was a viable target. Fuck all the other bones, they could all go and snap in half for all he cared. He really should have cared, after RED Soldier's Great Snappening of 1965, where all his bones were broken for literally no discernable reason, but that day, Face didn't feel like caring. Maybe it was just because he was practically in meat heaven. Maybe because it was the best meal he'd eaten in the past 16 years, since that expensive parakeet in Abu Dhabi. He didn't know. But whatever it was, he liked it. He didn't have any more teaching to do for the rest of the day, so all he wanted to do was go to the auditorium. That was the single building he hadn't seen.

Supposedly, it was designed for students to train in combat with each other, so he was hoping to at least see what the place looked like in the unlikely event that Glynda made him have a fight. Of course, he wouldn't mind having a fight, but it was always prudent to prepare for anything.

As he entered and headed up a set of stairs labelled 'STAFF ONLY', he finished off the last of the flesh still attached to the remaining bone, before throwing said bone into a nearby bin as he went out onto a small balcony. The seating establishment in the area was an empty group of benches overlooking a large circular arena. This was replicated all around, likely as the positions where students could watch the fighting. To prove this, there was a cluster of students sitting all around the arena. In the middle, there was a 'pit' with a ring in the center floor, and in the ring at that point was a pair of students sparring. The area was lit up by the sounds of steel against steel and grunts of effort as a red-haired young woman duelled against a young man in armour.

Face did recognize them both from earlier: One of them was the kid that kept vomiting (John, or Jaune, if he remembered rightly), and the other was the girl that seemed to have him friendzoned (She was called Pyrrha. Face could remember obscure names like that, for some reason). Both seemed quite good with their swords and shields, with both their weapons being nothing but blurs. However, in the event that one of them was stabbed, Face was still surprised at just how easily they shrugged it off. As he sat down, he noticed a large pair of screens near the exit to the arena displaying the faces of the two students and a coloured bar beneath. This looked as though it represented Aura, since when Jaune took a hit the coloured portion of the bar became smaller. Pyrrha seemed to be winning, since her Aura bar was almost fully green, whilst Jaune was just in the orange with a half-full bar. Notably, the hits Pyrrha was managing to get in were incredibly quick. Face highly doubted that he himself could avoid one of those strikes, and he was the self-proclaimed 'Badlands Bladesman' (a title that he held up with great pride, sellotape, and bits of string). Watching the young pair made him consider his own combat strategies.

Did he have an Aura? Apparently that was something that needed to be unlocked. But an even better question was if he needed it whatsoever: All Mercenaries could take a fair few handgun and rifle rounds to bring down, and a Sniper was capable of withstanding at least two hits from a sword, machete, wrench, or other close quarters weapon. That, coupled with the fact that Face often refused to die meant he could probably tank about four hits before succumbing to his injuries, swearing loudly, then dying incredibly violently. That being said, Face figured it'd be pretty good to be able to take even more hits without the threat of complete and utter physical decimation.

Just then, he noticed that Jaune and Pyrrha interlocked blades and held themselves close to each other, their faces becoming masks of determination. Jaune was pushing against Pyrrha, and managing to shift her footing back approximately a foot or so, until she swept her leg forward, knocking him straight onto the ground. And before Jaune could get up, Pyrrha was pointing her sword straight at him, but with a smile. The lights flicked on overhead as if on cue, and illuminated the rest of the room: Face was surprised to see that there was about twenty more students gathered, watching the battle unfold. As Pyrrha helped Jaune to his feet, Face noticed Glynda enter the arena with her Scroll.

"A well fought battle, Mr. Arc," she said in her usual tone of voice but with what actually looked like a smile. "You certainly have improved greatly over these recent weeks." The blonde gave a smile and a nod.

"Thanks, professor," he said, exhausted. He put a finger to his cheek to feel a small bloody cut, rubbing over it with his thumb. Face, being someone with good eyes, noticed that the cut almost instantly sealed up. From where he was, anybody else wouldn't have seen that. But since Face's bloodstream for the past fifteen years had practically consisted of coffee, and that he always wore sunglasses in any environment, he probably had the best eyesight out of anybody he knew. Obviously, Demoman had to have a decent eye, since he only had the one, and Face was almost certain that Spy's entire world was in slow motion (which was a likely explanation for how he was so good at CQC training, dodging all of the swings made at him and almost always winning unless Heavy got a lucky hit and destroyed his entire head), but in terms of clarity over long distances, and being able to spot the smallest things and movements at high speed, Face had them beat.

Regardless of Jaune's magic healing ability, Glynda adjusted her glasses and continued. "So the first battle goes to Miss Nikos, but with Mr. Arc coming close to making a comeback." She tapped on her scroll, and flicked her eyes up across the students gathered, finally noticing Face and adjusting her glasses again (Face wondered if the things were even hers). "Professor Face?" she asked, many of the students looking over. "I'm surprised you haven't gone back to whichever cave you came from." A few students 'ooh'd' at the insult.

"Respectfully, Professor Goodwytch," Face grinned, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "I'd suggest you stop talking before I come down there and school you myself." Again, a round of 'OOH's'. The students were already picking up on the fact that it was escalating quickly, many of them whipping out their Scrolls and telling everybody else that Glynda and Face were squaring off in the auditorium. The woman in the arena frowned, and folded away her Scroll.

"Please don't tell me you're being serious with threatening one of the most adept Huntresses in Remnant," she asked, raising a brow with her hands behind her back.

"Have gun, will fight," Face whistled, gesturing to the rifle leaning next to him. "Thought you'd have told these guys that by now."

"Is that a challenge?" Glynda smirked.

"Depends if you've ever had a fight with someone like me, and if you're prepared to get your ass kicked." As Face stood, he noticed that the number of people in the auditorium had multiplied massively: No longer was it twenty, instead increasing to one hundred to two hundred students, all hoping to watch two teachers duke it out. Word travels fast. He stepped forward towards the railing preventing people from falling into the battle arena, and calmly vaulted it, landing on the ground with an almighty crack and unexplainable splatter of blood. But as usual, he felt fine: He'd fallen off skyscrapers before, landing on his face, and even then fall damage would never be able to break his bones for some reason. He landed in a low crouch, hand to the floor for support as usual, before standing up and slipping the rifle off his shoulder to land in his waiting hands. As he began to make his way over to Glynda, he racked the bolt back, loading a round. As she pulled out her Scroll, tapping on it a few times.

"Before we start this trivial engagement, I'm going to get your Aura connected into the system, so I know when to stop punishing you." As she continued pressing the screen, Face smirked.

"Kinky," he laughed, pacing away to the other end of the room. On the banners that had originally had images of Jaune and Pyrrha's Aura levels, one side had an image of Glynda, plus her Aura level, and the other...

"Professor Face, what did you do to the system?" she groaned, gesturing to the banner as students began chuckling. Rather than the solid green bar that represented Aura, Face instead had a cartoon-like '', labelled with the number '125'. Above that, there was a large image of him standing there, moving in exactly the way he was. Frowning in genuine confusion at it, Face gave a few test movements to see if the copy of him followed. He scratched his head, waved his hand slightly, jumped a bit, and gave the finger, as any bloke would, before finally shrugging.

"Didn't do anything," he whistled to Glynda. "Direct all questions about Mercenary durability levels to Valve Incorporated." Glynda remained with a level facial expression, blinking.

"...of course." she sighed, before putting her scroll away and drawing her Disciplinary Action. "Now, Professor Face, I'm fairly certain you don't have an Aura active, and I won't be doing you the liberty of activating it for you, so I think that it would be best to stop when your 'Health' reaches twenty or lower."

"That's when I'll probably die," Face replied, rolling his shoulders and readying his gun. "So how about we get bloody goin'?" Glynda rolled her eyes and nodded, standing up perfectly straight and pointing her riding crop at Face from across the room. Students went silent as most of them pulled out Scrolls to record. Sitting in the front row, Ruby, Yang, Weiss, and Blake sat, completely enticed by the thought of watching Face take a beating for not answering their questions. Sure, they did realize that he needed answers just as much as they did, but he still punched Blake in the eye and threatened them, so he did have it coming if he was beaten down. Slowly, Ruby leaned over to Yang.

"Sis," she whispered, "Are you recording this?"

"I'm streaming it live over the RemNet," Yang whispered back, flicking her magenta eyes down to the Scroll in her hand. "Already getting a million viewers and counting."

Just then, action.

Glynda made the first move, swiping her riding crop through the air and creating a large number of thick ice shards, before quickly sending them flying in Face's direction. The Sniper responded by diving forward and drawing his SMG, flicking off the safety and beginning to fire rounds at all the crystals approaching him specifically. With each round fired from his small machine pistol, another shard of ice smashed and tinkled to the floor, melting instantly into water and quickly freezing back into a long patch of ice, stretching from Glynda to Face. In spite of getting most of them, a shard still shot straight towards Face, causing him to quickly dive out the way and land in the pile of the still-smoking casings his gun had made. Recovering quickly, Face rolled back to a crouch, levelling his rifle and firing off a snap shot towards Glynda. The loud bang came before Glynda staggering slightly as the bullet smashed into the Aura covering her body, chipping off about a tenth of her available Aura and causing a cheer from the crowd gathered. As quickly as he could, Face began to rack the bolt and load another bullet as Glynda recovered, firing over a gout of flame in response. Face didn't dodge as fast as he'd hoped, the wash of flame hitting his shoulder as he leapt to the left and sending him spiralling to the floor with his shoulder aflame.

"Ah, son of a bitch," he grunted, quickly picking himself up and kneeling to pat the flames out on his shoulder. Spitting out a mouthful of dust, he checked the banner with his health. The large number '109' had replaced the 125 he had seen at the start, meaning that Glynda could do quite a bit of damage even though she'd only clipped his shoulder with the shot. Frowning, he gritted his teeth and glared at Glynda, the woman now giving a mocking smirk. Face stood up, defiant as ever. "That it?! Huh?!" he called over. Just as he was raising his gun, he realized something.

His gun.

Shit.

He quickly looked to his left, and noticed that his rifle was lying a good twenty feet away, and between him and it was twenty feet of open ground. He flicked his gaze back to Glynda, who was already preparing her next attack, then back to his gun. As his opponent waved her riding crop, Face rolled his eyes. "Oh, fuck it, it was taking too long to load anyway..." he muttered, before making a run the other way with his revolver drawn. The response was immediate: Glynda unleashed a barrage of large red Dust crystals, firing them through the air and causing them to detonate on impact. Face was having to jump and roll over most of them, occasionally firing a shot back from his gun but still continuing around the arena.

It was as he noticed the crystal's resemblance to Soldier's rockets that it hit him.

They were just like Soldier's rockets.

They caused splash damage (Face's Health number was now at 74), sailed in straight lines, and she was specifically aiming them at his feet. He'd done some damage to her Aura, too: It was now holding at just above half, on a colour between green and orange. So by now, she was getting desperate, and would probably begin spamming the projectiles. During a brief pause in the assault, as Glynda created more projectiles with her usual stern facial expression, Face reloaded his SMG, slipped his revolver away, and drew his knife, holding it in his right hand, SMG in his left. As Glynda readied her projectiles and pointed them in Face's direction, the Sniper steadied his footing and narrowed his eyes, pointing his knife at her threateningly. "Come on," he smirked. Glynda adjusted her glasses, and waved her riding crop, sending individual crystals flying at Face like a battery of missiles. Breathing out, Face began to run towards the witch, dodging incoming attacks as much as he could. He didn't fire a single bullet as he made his way over, but it certainly was tempting, especially considering that each nearby blast was chipping away at his health, knocking 5 off each time. By the time he was in range, he had only 32 left on the meter.

And by the time he was in range, Glynda decided she might finish him off. She directed two projectiles to fire simultaneously at his feet, both of them streaking through the air at speed towards the ground.

Face mentally hoped he'd remembered the technique correctly, and jumped just as the explosives hit the ground.

The force of the detonation threw Face straight into the air, the Sniper using the momentum from his jump to mimic the action that Soldier would do day in, day out: The Rocket Jump. Jaws fell open across the room as Face soared into the air, slamming his left hand onto his right wrist crossed over his body, and used it as a platform to aim. And as he began to go up above the student seating level, he began to fire down hot lead towards Glynda.

She was too stunned to move: It was probably the single most ridiculous thing she had ever seen somebody do, even thinking it to almost be impossible, but here was Face. The idiotic, psychotic, ex-criminal and Mercenary terrorist. And he was doing it perfectly and defying just about every law of physics.

Her pause cost her dearly: As she stood still in awe, every single one of the twenty five bullets in his magazine slammed against her aura, pushing her Aura bar into the segment of orange that was dangerously close to red, meaning she had nearly lost. Finally, as Face was rapidly dropping down, she heard the click as his ammunition ran dry. However, before she could prepare a counter attack, Face slammed down in front of her, rolled, and used his forward momentum to throw his SMG and knife away, then deliver a powerful right hook that hit her square in the face. This attack was enough to drop her Aura into the red, and knock her off her feet. She lay there, stunned, as the lights came on. Face remained in the position he had finished the punch in, crouching low with his right fist swept over his body and breathing heavily. From where she was, she could see that quite a few fragments of Dust had embedded themselves in his clothing, which could potentially become dangerous if he didn't get them pulled out. After a few moments where nobody said anything (and the stream viewers around the world went crazy and began typing 'holy fucking shit' rapidly onto their keyboards), Face stood, and leaned his weight to one side, exhaling as he looked up to the number on the banner.

'1'.

"Holy fucking shit," he murmured, smiling as he wiped away blood that was dribbling from his nose and other facial orifices. He promptly turned to the students watching, his trademark grin plastered over his face. "...and that is how you DO IT, YOU WANKERS!" he yelled, tapping his heels together and punching the air in celebration as the audience completely lost it. The RemNet viewers of the streamers around the room managed to crash a server by flooding it with surprised messages, almost the entire room stood and applauded, and Ozpin sipped his coffee, nodding slightly and smiling.

Team RWBY just sat there. None of their mouths remained un-opened at what they'd just witnessed. Professor Face rode an explosion, firing a machine gun at the most experienced Dust user in Beacon, before landing and knocking her off her feet in one punch, surviving with one health remaining. Yang closed her mouth, and slowly lowered her Scroll, giving the viewers a brief eyeful of her legs before ending the stream without any words. "That...was unexpected." She said finally, looking to Blake. "I guess...he's pretty good?" The Faunus girl shot her partner a glare.

"So?" she snapped suddenly, causing her three teammates to recoil slightly. "He's still a criminal, he helped Torchwick, and he just beat up Professor Goodwytch. I don't care how good he is, I want answers from him." Ruby and Weiss looked at each other with worry, then Weiss looked to Blake, wincing slightly under the deafening sound of cheers.

"But Blake," she began, putting a hand on Blake's shoulder, "He didn't want to give us answers last time, what makes you thin-?" Blake suddenly shrugged Weiss' hand off, not moving her icy glare from Professor Face, who was helping Glynda to her feet and escorting her out of the arena.

"He's telling us everything," she scowled. "Whether he likes it, or not."

Meanwhile, in the locker room...

Face made sure Glynda was supported as he escorted her over to a bench with medical supplies nearby. The room was relatively dark, but there were no students in there for that time due to most of them being upstairs excitedly discussing the events that had transpired. Face kept his arm underneath Glynda to keep her supported, and made his way to the bench next to a first aid kit. "You alright to sit down whilst I get the medkit?" he asked. Glynda continued to stare ahead.

"Uh...y-yes, I think so." Glynda sighed, wincing as Face helped her sit on the wooden bench. Once she was steady on the seat, Face walked over to the wall with the first aid kit behind a glass case, and quite casually punched through the guard window, grabbing the bag inside and pulling it out, prompting the empty cabinet's door to open as he removed it. He cleared his throat as he sat beside Glynda.

"Well, sorry for starting that one," he said as he rolled Glynda's slightly bloody sleeve up to reveal a thick cut where a bullet had somehow negated her Aura. "I, ah, don't back down from challenges...as you'd imagine..." Glynda smiled slightly as Face went into the bag for a needle and thread.

"So I gather," she replied flatly, watching as her former opponent pulled out the thin steel needle with stitch thread. She mentally steeled herself: She wasn't exactly the biggest fan of needles. She watched as Face threaded the string. "Why are you stitching these wounds closed, anyway? You created them."

"A father can love his children, right?" Face chuckled, before slowly trailing off as he realized what he'd just said was kind of fucked up. "Ahem. Ah, well, you see, since I wasn't allowed to kill you and that was practice, I figured that I might as well practise my first aid as well. Plus, I feel kind of bad for doing that in front of your students."

"And that's another thing," Glynda cut in. "Why were you even in my lecture hall?"

"Why did you start insulting me? This wouldn't have happened, you wouldn't be needing to be stitched up, and I wouldn't be able to feel my internal organs slowly shutting down." Glynda opened her mouth to speak, but closed it a moment later, silently holding her arm out for Face to sew shut like a child in a nurse's office.

"While I'm still amazed that you're capable of fighting, I must say, I didn't expect you to do that." Glynda said suddenly, prompting a smile from Face as he kneeled next to her to gain access to her wounded left arm. "I didn't even think that would be physically possible." Face chuckled, but paused before he began stitching.

"Oh, you don't mind if I stitch your cut up?" he asked. Glynda shook her head, wincing slightly as the needle pushed through her skin and came out on the other side of the cut. "Alright...yeah. I honestly didn't think it was possible either," Face explained, "But then that idea was blown out of the water fifteen years ago when I first met Soldier. To get to battles faster, he'd learned to fire missiles at his own feet as propulsion, like you saw, and then he'd be at the scene five times faster than he would if he'd have just walked. So I just improvised with what you were using."

"Volatile Fire Dust," Glynda replied, "If it's volatile, it tends to explode on the slightest of knocks."

"Kind of like rocket fuel?" Face asked.

"If you think of it that way, I suppose," she replied. "And I do thank you for going through this trouble."

"You kidding?" Face laughed. "These are the best medical supplies I've seen for years, there's no way in hell I'd pass this chance up. Mann Co.'s 'medkits' contained a stick to lever the bullets out, a bottle of strong whiskey, and a handgun with one shot to blow your head off if the pain became too much. To be honest, I'm kind of amazed this first aid kit doesn't have a stick." Glynda winced at the thought.

"Was the whiskey for anti-septic?" she frowned, raising a brow slightly.

"Unfortunately not." Face shook his head, tying off the end of the stitch and applying a plaster over it. "Had I been using a Mann Co. medkit here, you would probably be completely off-your-tits drunk. The alcohol basically numbed the pain whilst someone else was doing the field surgery. And I use 'surgery' very lightly." Glynda didn't dare ask. Instead, she remained silent as Face stood looking over her. "That can't be everything, I must have hit you about thirty five times, with hollow points and a hunting rifle, no less. C'mon, what else needs patching up?" Glynda remained completely silent, legs crossed and arms folded as she looked down.

There was no way in hell she was letting him put plasters on her boobs.

"Ah," Glynda said finally, looking to the right. "Is my cheek alright?" Face crouched slightly to look at the side of her face: Sure enough, there was a gash going from the bottom of her ear to the center of her cheek.

"That's...gonna take some fixing," Face sighed, whistling through his teeth. "Might need to disinfect that one." Glynda paled slightly, and Face noticed, patting her on the shoulder before going back through the medical kit. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. It'll get infected otherwise." She sighed.

"Fine, fine, just get it over with," she muttered as Face produced a small glass bottle of alcohol. As he popped off the lid, Glynda thought of something that might make it easier. "Like I mentioned, Ozpin is considering paying you," she said. "I'm not sure what he's going to think of that little 'episode', but I guarantee he'll want to speak to you."

"That's correct, I do," a sudden voice claimed from across the room, prompting Face to splash the alcohol a little bit harder than he'd originally planned, covering the entire wound instantly and prompting Glynda to noticeably wince and grunt through her teeth, glaring at Face as she scrunched one eye shut and tightly gripped the bench as pain relief.

"Ah, sorry," Face scratched back of his head, before looking back at the headmaster. "Professor Ozpin, what brings you here? How'd you even know where we were?" Ozpin chuckled, sipping his coffee.

"Let's just say I like to keep tabs on my people at all times," he replied calmly. Glynda rolled her eyes, looking at Face.

"He looks at CCTV constantly," she corrected. "It's slightly creepy."

"Well, at least I'm used to it..." Face muttered, remembering just how many cameras watched him on a daily basis. When RED was eating, sleeping, fighting, dying, crafting, or somehow even going out, the 'Administrator' somehow managed to track their movements at all times. He'd been the recipent of more than a few letters reprimanding him for 'inappropriate activities' when he, Spy, and Engineer had gone on a night out of nothing but drive-by shootings, drinking, non-work contracts, and mafia gunfights. However, in spite of that, the three Mercs were actually rewarded with a trio of golden, heavily ornate handguns from 'Mann Co. Reserve', so Face hadn't really seen any reason to argue about such levels of surveillance.

"So," Professor Ozpin began, pacing over to the bench opposite them so the witch and the gunman could see him. "I see your little 'confrontation' escalated fairly quickly."

"No offense to you, Ozpin," Face replied, being extra careful as he gently began to stitch around Glynda's eye. "But I'm not going to say anything about what it was about."

"But whatever it was about drew a crowd," Ozpin noted. "And it certainly raised awareness of the creativity a Huntress or Huntsman can have. It's already viral on the RemNet. From what I hear, forums and chat rooms are going crazy speculating why Glynda Goodwytch and an Earthborn were fighting."

"And all of them are too stupid to consider it might have just been practice?" Face raised a brow, accidentally managing to prod Glynda's brain through her skull.

She tasted purple for a second, and it tasted of happy.

"...alongside that, people could see there was some kind of 'driving force' behind your fighting. Like you two had wanted to fight for a long time."

"If I may interject, Professor?" Glynda raised a hand, before pointing it at Face. "Since I met him, I have wanted to slap him senseless." Face paused, looking up slightly.

"...yeah, cheers," he said flatly. "Good to know you're actually a violent person."

"Then why let him do this to you?" Ozpin asked, keeping his usual, outlandishly good poker face in check.

"What, beat me?" Glynda raised a brow.

"Help you." Ozpin corrected. "Why let him sew you back together?" Glynda remained silent, trying to think of an answer.

"That..." she paused. "...I suppose I was against it all. His presence, how you just let him in, how you trusted him, how he acted, how he spoke and behaved. I just saw him as another terrorist. But now I've actually spoken to him..." She looked up at Face and smiled. Genuinely smiled. "He isn't too bad. He's just complicated." Face grinned back, then looked at Ozpin.

"Nice distraction, Ozpin," he smirked. "She would probably have passed out if she had focused on the pain there." Glynda raised a brow, and rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but keep her smile.

"And I suppose you know what it's like to be injured there?" she asked rhetorically.

"You really wanna know?" Face asked, smiling as he began to pack up the needle. Glynda was getting up and dusting off her skirt, and she certainly looked better, so he figured she could probably handle it.

"You can tell me all about them tonight," she smiled back. "You've still got a lot of stitching to do, and I think you'd run out of thread here. I'll get some thread from the infirmary and you can meet me in my room to sew my legs, arms, back, and torso shut. That, and the way I see it, you can wash and fix my uniform that you ripped." Face rolled his eyes.

"Sure thing, not like I had plans for the evening," he replied. He cast a glance to Ozpin, who kept his usual poker face. "And besides, don't I have a lesson tomorrow?"

"Yes, but at a later period," Ozpin nodded, sipping his coffee again. "I think it would be best if you began to teach them how to cook. But for now, I think you have a few fans outside." Ozpin looked to Glynda. "Professor Goodwytch, you're with me. I think we should exit through the fire escape, since we need to be in a hearing with General Ironwood about his arrival in five minutes." Face blinked as he kicked the first aid kit across the room.

"Wait, he's arriving in five minutes, or you're arriving to talk about his arrival in five minutes, or are you arriving in five minutes to talk about his arrival later on?" Face asked.

Damn, Ozpin's poker face was good.

"All of the above," Ozpin said calmly as he pushed a door open. "I will speak to you at some point soon, Professor Face." As they slipped out of the doorway, Face gave a small, awkward wave goodbye.

"Uh...see ya?" he said quietly as the door slammed. Frowning, he gave his eyes a rub behind his glasses, and slowly began to make his way to the door. He was still lingering on one health.

He sighed, and began to head towards the doorway that led back out into the arena, since he planned to cut across it and go to the lunch hall for a sandwich or two. That'd get him feeling better.

But obviously, the plan was dashed as he opened the doors to the sound of students beginning to cheer his name, and the sight of quite a lot of them crowding around him to fangirl/boy. Up on the seating, however, he noticed team RWBY glaring down at him.

'One day, I'll answer your questions.' he thought as Pyrrha handed him his rifle, knife, and SMG with a smile. 'But not now.'