Sooooo sorry for the long update wait, I've been really busy. So, are the short chapters annoying anyone else? They're driving me nuts, but they won't seem to get any longer! Oh well, once things pick up, which I promise they will soon, the chapters should get longer. Huge thanks to Foy, endiahna, and Patricia16 for reviewing. Its short, but enjoy and please review.


Warren woke several hours later to an aggravated pounding on his door. He groaned softly, pulling the blanket up over his head, and muttered, "Come in."

The door hit the wall with a bang and a brisk voice demanded, "What are you still doing in bed, young man?" Warren groaned again, it was Head Mistress Storm.

"Don't feel well," Warren muttered, poking just his eyes out from under the blanket and passionately hoping she wouldn't make him get out of bed or anything. He had no shirt on.

Storm stopped her advance on him, twitched, and noticed the pile of throw up Warren hadn't cleaned up before passing out. Everyone knew Storm was extremely germ phobic.

"Well, I'd best get Hank then," she said, quickly retreating from the room.

Once she was gone Warren sat up cautiously, still holding the blanket over his chest, as Storm hadn't closed his door. He stumbled out of bed, and closed the door, feeling vaguely like he was about to throw up again. He bent over, fumbling around in the heaps of clothing and books that covered his floor trying to dig out a shirt.

At last he found a worn old hoodie and pulled it on, folding his wings to his back. After that he went over to his desk and pulled out the bottle of painkillers he always kept in the top drawer. He took two and took a drink from the glass of water he always kept on his bedside table, and collapsed back into bed.

However, he was just about to drift off back to sleep when there was another knock on his door, abet this time softer and more polite, but still annoying.

"Yeah?" he mumbled sleepily.

Hank opened the door softly, poking his furry blue head in side, "Storm said you weren't feeling well."

"Just a cold," Warren lied in a moan, "I'll be fine tomorrow." Why couldn't they just let him sleep?

Hank entered the room, carefully side stepping the throw up and put a gentle hand on Warren's forehead. "You do seem to have a slight fever," he announced, "Here, take these," Hank set some pills on the table beside the glass of water, "And get some rest. I'll, egh, clean that up for you," he left, returning before long with some rags which he used to clean up the throw up. He then placed a bucket beside Warren's bed, "Just in case you do that again," he explained. Then he left, gently closing the door behind him and leaving Warren to the dark of his room and the silence of his thoughts.