Fiyero was out with Boq and the two Queens boys at a small, hole-in-the-wall pub just across the canal from Scholar's Hill. It was close enough to the Three Queens housing to be popular with the students who knew about it, but this evening was a school night and thus most of the boys in the dorms were preparing for midterms.
Fiyero didn't really care about midterms, knowing he'd successfully cram for them when the time came, and he had convinced Boq, Tibbett, and Crope that they needed a night off for their mental health. They split a pitcher of malt beer and chewed the fat, so to speak, over rich pot roast and skewered lamb shanks, the discussion ranging from the newest shape of Boq's growing hair to the reason he insisted on dinner, which was to learn more about Dr. Dillamond's research.
Fiyero brought it up casually and enjoyed the aftermath of his topic change when Boq asked the three of them for help with research. Tibbett and Crope jumped at the invitation, insisting that such a foray required disguises consisting of powdered wigs, opera cloaks and faux eyewear— all of which were available to those who were willing to break into Three Queens Student Theatrical and Terpsichorean Society's sizeable collection of props (which of course they were). "I don't think espionage drag is necessary," Boq said, much to Crope and Tibbett's disappointment, but they agreed anyway.
Fiyero did too; apparently, all it involved was looking through dusty old books, something that he had being doing a great deal more lately than usual. As the semester progressed, he still accompanied the boys while they worked in the Three Queens library, but rather than oil leather bindings and transcribe faded scrolls, Fiyero would often disappear into the stuffy stacks of science books, pulling down moldy volumes full of physics terminology he could barely pronounce, let alone understand, in hopes that any of them alluded to his particular situation.
It seemed as though travelling through time was a singular occurrence. At least, the monks whose scientific analyses lined the shelves had never come across it; neither had the published academic researchers of science and mathematics in the Briscoe Hall library. Crage Hall library, with its sizable selection of texts regarding religion and magic (fluff topics compared to those determined more important that filled the boys' libraries, like economics, law and agriculture), was seeming like his best bet for answers, assuming there were any to be found. It just wasn't easy for a guy like Fiyero to hang out peacefully in a library full of girls during exam time.
"What kind of work does Elphaba do for Dr. Dillamond?" Fiyero wanted to know, only sparing Boq the shortest of glances as he lined up his shot on the dartboard. Crope had challenged him earlier in the hour to a game of darts, but he was so bad and Fiyero was so good that they gave up playing for points. Instead, Crope settled simply on trying to get one of his darts in the bull's-eye while Fiyero was challenging himself to make shapes with his.
"Looks things up, like I do."
"Is that all? She spends most of her lunch hours helping him."
"No, that's not all," Boq answered as Crope's throw missed the board completely. "She's a secretary, a scribe."
"I suppose his hooves would create a challenge for a hobby like calligraphy."
"It's impossible," the Munchkin said in response to Tibbett's comment, "so she takes dictation for him and files things. So I wouldn't get on her bad side, given she's probably has the responsibility of grading our work by now."
"I'll keep that in mind." Fiyero carefully aimed and sent off another dart, which landed with precision to close off a square around the center target. "What of the research? Is he making progress?"
"Yes!" Boq exclaimed giddily, and part of Fiyero regretted not bringing this topic up with Elphaba so he could see her face light up instead. "He keeps making breakthroughs, and Elphaba insists that he's on the verge of founding a whole new branch of knowledge."
"She mentioned he's having trouble getting funding." That wasn't entirely a lie; she had mentioned it, just not to him. Still, it was Frexspar the Godly Governor's letter that motivated him to learn more about Elphaba's work with Dillamond.
"It always comes down to money, doesn't it? Every day's findings provoke a hundred new questions, but what can be done about those without the means?"
"And let me guess: those with the means aren't willing to provide them given the nature of the research."
"Naturally."
"What a shame."
"It's your turn Your Highness," Crope said over the frothy rim of his mug.
Fiyero, having mostly forgotten about their game, aimed and snapped a dart at the board where hit it dead center, sticking out in the middle of his square. "X marks the spot."
"Show off!" Crope said with a groan as unattended beer foam dribbled off his chin.
"It's all in the wrist," Fiyero told him.
"And you should have plenty of experience exercising that," Tibbett called to his best friend. Crope's response was to cover Tibbett in the rest of his drink.
Fiyero sighed overdramatically as the alcohol pooled on the dirty ground at their feet. "What a waste."