Time Flies

Owen wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been sitting in this room, secluding himself from all social contact. it could've been days, it could've been weeks. It all summed up the same, really. It didn't matter at all.

But there had been a certain sense of vulnerability since Jami's visit. That door really was the only thing separating him from the rest of the world and, well... looking at it now, it wasn't really fit for its purpose. Half the door was split off, lying midway in the corridor in a shameful heap. The other half was still hinged lamely to the frame. Anyone could come in and intrude his privacy if they felt like it. Even if chairs, lamps and drawers obstructed the doorway, it would be no difficult task climbing over it or moving them out of the way.

Owen sat in the far corner, nearby the window, his head leaning against the wall, his legs spread out, his arms dangling limply on his lap, giving the impression much like a discarded doll. Dark circles had formed beneath his drooping eyes, and his jaw hung open like a disorientated zombie - sliver of drool dripping down.

His expression was distant yet somber, as if a dark storm cloud hung over his head. But without even asking, there was something about him that was prevalent - he was desperately, mind-numbingly bored. Mindless days of staring at a wall did that. But his limbs lacked the enthusiasm to do anything but lie.

Sighing, he continued to stare at nothing, think about nothing, await nothing. There was nothing to look forward to.

The door to the C'D dorms was ugly, and Valentin scowled at it as he shouldered his way inside. It actually almost exactly like his own familiar E'S dormitory door, except that it wasn't. He didn't want to be here fixing some jerk's stupid door. But he always got the shitty jobs. Rendaz could certainly handle fixing a dumb door, why wasn't he doing it? He had a tool kit too!

But since he'd already grumbled himself all the way over here already, he might as well just go get the job done. It was easy enough to find, seeing as it was the only door in the hall half-blown to pieces with an obvious trail of splintered debris pointing you in the right direction. With a skeptically raised eyebrow, the faun adjusted the long leather strap of his tool kit hanging off his shoulder and approached the space. It was more messed up than he'd initially realized. There wouldn't be any fixing it, he'd have to simply replace it. That would actually be a bit easier, he realized, with a thoughtful 'hmph', and nudged what was left of the wooden panel with his fingertips. It wobbled and creaked away from him lamely.

Valentin hadn't yet noticed the boy sitting in the far corner of the room. He slung his bag from his shoulder, which landed on the floor with a careless THUMP, and grumbled something unintelligible regarding the clean-up this would involve as well before he even bothered to scan his eyes over the rest of the room. When he did, both eyes shot open comically and he practically leapt backwards, tripping over some of the broken wood. He would have fallen on his butt if he wasn't lucky enough to bump back into the wall instead, and manage to scramble with it to maintain his balance. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment while he steadied his breaths, before snapping open again to shoot a very aggravated glare at the lame-looking figure sitting there.

Now, Valentin had seen Owen before. And while this sad soul certainly looked like Owen, it also didn't. A nervous glance flickered around the room again but his brow remained furrowed in some mask of anger. This was Rein's room, wasn't it? So that was either Owen, a zombie that looked like Owen, or Owen-become-zombie.

Swallowing his nerve enough to bark out harshly, the faun demanded, "Hey! Are you one of those.. not-dead things?"

The first sign of life Owen heard was the quiet footsteps outside his door. He blinked a moment, angling his head only slightly in the direction of the door - curious, but not really at all interested. Outside noises happened often enough, and they often passed.

The second sign of life was the creaking of his door. Then the face that soon appeared. He peered at it for a moment, recognising as that odd deer guy he'd sometimes seen around the school - not really someone he'd made any contact with. What was he doing here? He stared curiously, but still, he made no move from his position.

As the bag hit the floor, Owen realised that this might be someone who would be staying for longer than he bargained for. He hadn't appeared to have noticed him yet, which he would normally find odd, but it was almost expected. Why should he notice him? It wasn't like he was worth notic--

The frightened reaction made him flinch, purely out of the unexpectedness of it. What the--?! What was with the glare? A sort of dull, bewildered look was returned. Not-dead-- The question took moments to register in his brain, and he just sort of stared at the intruding faun like he hadn't understood. Then the left side of his lip twitched up in a half-offended manner. "Ehh?"

He didn't know why he was being given this accusatory look, especially in his own room. He blinked a moment, looking to the door briefly before looking back to his unwelcome visitor. "What... What're you doin' here." The question was spoken in a harsh, rasping manner - building up that 'zombie-like' allusion against him.

The faun seemed to ponder Owen for a moment after the boy had spoken because he didn't answer right away.

Alright, so it was probably Owen. Dead-voice or not, he was pretty sure he'd never heard a zombie speak before. But Owen didn't look very well at all, and Valentin's hostile expression eased into something a little more confused, not sure if he should be concerned. His brows where still furrowed and he wore a frown, but his ears perked up a little now that he was paying more attention.

"I'm..." He gestured vaguely to what used to be a complete panel of wood. "I'm here to fix your door--are.. Are you alright?" Despite not being certain he really wanted to involve himself by asking the question, the words were out before he could triple-guess them.

But he remained where he was. If this kid was contagious, he wasn't going anywhere near him. He frowned, and mumbled a little to himself but still loud enough for the other to hear. "You look like death."

If he was fixing his door, then by all means, Owen was reluctant to shove him out. He was doing him a favour after all, even if he had to endure the social contact. It won't last long, he assured himself.

"I'm fine." The response was automatic after Valentin's enquiry, like he hadn't even taken the time to think about it at all. Of course, Owen's dull stare was relentless. What he did pick up was the insensitive remark that came shortly after. Even if he didn't react to it on the outside, part of him within was sort of agreeing with the faun. But he hadn't expected any visitors, so how could he have known to prepare?

With a huff, he pushed himself into a more upright position, before skimming a claw through his hair in a lazy attempt to tame the unruly mess. Dusting himself off a little, he turned his head to face Valentin. Then, very slowly, the corner of his mouth started to twitch into an upwards curve. The empty smile almost looked as if it took effort to maintain, but at the very least, he hoped he didn't look like 'death' any more.

"I'm fine," he repeated, as if to convince himself. "How 'bout... you? You looked kinda..." he trailed off for a moment, his speech disorientated and disjointed as if he were unsure how to talk. "...mad," he finally managed after a lengthy paused, squinting at the faun from his corner.

The claw was eyed with some wariness. Valentin wasn't sure why or how Owen was sporting claws, just that he didn't like them. That and Owen's smile was just sort of creeping him out. What was wrong with his face? Subconsciously Valentin made some vague motion towards his own face, as if he really wanted to ask about that. But he quickly realized he was doing it and hastily shoved that hand under the opposite arm.

A frown settled over his features when Owen made the faun the subject. His brow furrowed and he stood stock-still in wait while the other student searched for whatever word was eluding him. When the figure in the corner found it, Valentin gave in to his immediate reaction and scowled harshly.

"I'm not mad," he snapped quickly.

He dropped into a crouch then and began to rummage about the bag on the floor sourly until he found a hammer. Shoving the bag closed again with unnecessary force and hammer in hand, he rose and crossed to the hinges that held the remaining shards of door in place. He struck the hammer into the bottom of the metal peg in the topmost hinge and into his other waiting hand. The peg was pocketed and he made to move onto the next. But here he paused, incensed enough it would seem to spin half-round to regard Owen again while waving the hammer about like a shrug.

"If you didn't break your stupid door I wouldn't have to be here fixing it," he explained rather suddenly and accusingly, before turning back to the door to knock out the second peg. "S'not like I don't have better things to be doing," he continued mumbling. "This school is full of stupid people--" Then he shot another look back at Owen and raised his voice purposefully. "And what's wrong with your face anyways?"

It didn't take very long for Owen's smile to return to its original, glum state. At the most, it lasted around ten seconds, perhaps less from the way Valentin was staring at him. He knew for a fact he was probably staring at his face - a reaction he hadn't seen for a while yet. Not a reaction he'd particularly missed.

A jaw hung open to object at the faun's snappy remark to point out that he clearly was mad, before shutting it again, deciding not to - he was fixing his door after all. He watched with half-interest, half out of the sheer lack of anything else to look at.

His brows creased at his needless accusations and the question about his face - an offended look crumpling his expression. Breaking his door--- Owen knew for a fact that he never broke that door. It was that girl (who's name he'd been trying to put out of mind). Owen wasn't at all inclined to explain her little visit to him though, fearing questions that might've been asked after. So there was really only one other option for him.

Lying, of course.

"What's wrong with yours," he lamely countered defensively, not in the right mindset to come up with something wittier. "And I didn't break that door," he huffed. "The, umm...." he trailed off to think a moment. "The w.." He gestured to the window. "Wind. The wind jus'..." He depicted with his hand a sort of flowing movement that ended with a sort of crash at the end. "Wr..wrecked the whole room," he shrugged. It could probably explain why the furniture was all out of place too.

He crossed his arms stubbornly. "S'not my fault," he muttered to himself.

Those lame excuses earned little more than a snort from Valentin. He paused long enough to silently let it be known just what he thought of that, eyes sliding from Owen to the window, and back again with one raised eyebrow. He shook his head then knelt to pop out the last peg. All three were hastily pocketed as the door creaked and shifted, and the faun quickly braced the broken panel with both hands to help ease it safely away before it could tumble to the floor. The door was leaned against the wall beside the opening and Valentin batted his hands against his pant legs while he glanced around, as if there should be another door already here to replace it with. Of course there wasn't.

"Whatever, it's not like I actually give a shit what really happened to your door." He rolled his eyes and shrugged it off. He didn't know why Owen was lying, but it probably had something to do with whatever screwed up his face. Maybe he was embarrassed. This was Valentin's hunch because when he himself was embarrassed or under pressure, he had been known to come up with similarly idiotic claims. Fear was disgusting.

Valentin kicked most of the wood out into the hall, but he would need to dig up a broom to clean the smaller splinters properly. His gaze tried to pass Owen again discreetly because there was something grotesque about the way he looked, where it felt wrong to stare but you really wanted to. With another frown he slipped out through the now empty door frame, hammer still in hand, and poked around the hall for an unoccupied room. He was only gone long enough to pop the door off an empty dorm, the sound of the hammer thrumming out of sight somewhere. He returned with the borrowed door a moment later and started lining it up.

Pointedly failing to look at Owen, he drawled, "Are you planted there, or are you going to get up and give me a hand?"

Well, the lies didn't appear to work. He hadn't expected them to either, and Owen couldn't help but wonder why he'd even bothered with them. It was like second nature to him - a compulsive urge that he couldn't hold back. Maybe one day, someone would be gullible enough to fall for them.

He forgot to be at all fazed by his language, instead blinking dumbly at the faun as he continued to work away on his door. And when he briefly left the room, Owen did wonder if he was ever coming back, that is, until he heard more banging further down the corridor.

He twiddled his fingers - content with the idea of simply just ignoring his presence. Until Valentin called on him. He frowned, obviously reluctant with the idea of helping at all. In fact, he didn't move a muscle from his position, more than ready to sit and allow Valentin to do all the work. What did he expect Owen to do anyway? He was no mechanic.

It looked like he wasn't going to move at all for a few moments. But he finally submitted, giving a huff before pushing himself to his feet, a hand against the wall for balance. Even despite his internal reasoning, he figured that he should probably not give Valentin another reason to complain about him. He didn't expect the sudden vertigo from standing, and he stood, slightly dazed, with a hand raised to his forehead. Oh geez, how did walking work? He took a staggering step forward, almost tripping himself up with his own feet. Somehow, he managed to wind up in front of Valentin, still swaying from imbalance.

"Wh... What did you want me to..." Before he'd even finished speaking, he reached out an arm to hold the door steady. About as steadily as himself - the thing was probably wobbling even more with his aid.

The faun wasn't sure whether or not he really expected the other boy to actually get up and help him, so he didn't hide the look of mild surprise--and amusement-- when Owen had managed to stagger over to him. Both ears drooped, betraying some concern despite the fact the otherwise chose not to yet address the way Owen seemed about ready to topple down to the floor. His eyes darted quickly between the boy and the door.

"Just hold it there," he instructed even though Owen was already holding the door--sort of. It wobbled but it didn't matter. Valentin helped to stabilize the door so that it wouldn't quiver too much on him by leaning his shoulder on it. It was enough that Owen's grasp would make it so that the faun didn't have to bear the whole weight of the door on his side while he popped the metal pegs back into the hinges. This job he completed as swiftly as he could, not sure how long Owen was going to be able to stand there.

"Okay, that's all," he assured in a quick voice, nodding to Owen to let the boy know he could stand back or sit.. or fall. Whatever he felt the need to do now. A small weight in his vest pocket gave him some sort of inspiration and he looked for a moment to be debating.. Finally, with brows still furrowed uncertainly, he produced a small glass bottle, unlabeled and three-quarters full of some dark brown liquid. With a scowl to chase away his hesitancy, he shoved it towards Owen's chest.

It was Valentin's own laudanum, but he didn't think Owen needed to know that. He just looked like he needed it more than the faun did at the moment.

Owen was the least bit relieved when Valentin didn't yell at him for his precarious balancing skills. When the faun finally secured the door in place, a half-hearted grin of satisfaction formed on his face, mostly glad it was just over. That was faster than he thought it would be. In fact, Owen could already feel his balance returning.

His attention turned to the door, swinging back and forth slightly to see if it didn't immediately fall off its hinges. When it didn't, he gave a sort of professional 'yes this door works' sort of nod.

What he didn't understand was when the bottle was passed towards him. Removing the top, he tentatively sniffed inside before reeling away in disgust. Smelled a bit like alcohol... Why was he giving him alcohol? We didn't even really like that stuff - except on the occasion when there was simply nothing else to drink.

The stare he gave to Valentin was long, hard and confused. "Whatsis for?" he finally grunted, a brow raised, but holding it back out towards him. "I dun' want it."

Valentin's eyes flickered between Owen and the small bottle like he didn't quite understand why it was being offered back to him. Then his mouth twitched like he was forcing away the urge to scowl again at the other student, as if he had some sort of right to be angered by the refusal. Here he was, trying to be friendly or something!

"I didn't say you wanted it," he bit back more sharply than he'd intended. He left the sentence to imply that he thought Owen needed it and it wasn't in fact a matter of want. But with a rapid roll of his eyes and a one-shouldered shrug like it didn't matter, he mumbled, "Save it for when you do then, I don't care."

Obviously, Owen didn't understand the benefits of the tincture. Valentin wasn't going to explain it to him, he could find out for himself if he wanted to. The faun figured the numbness and the high that came with the liquid's morphine could only do the poor kid some good.

He turned back to his bag on the floor and dropped the hammer inside. The thunk was mingled with the tinging of the tool settling heavily against other metal objects, and he brushed his hands off on his trousers. Rising, his dark eyes scanned the room again st very briefly before returning to the resident.

"Anything else?"

Frowning even more at Valentin's somewhat snappy respopnse, Owen didn't know whether he was meant to be grateful or insulted. He stared with furrowed brows a few moments more, mouth hung open as if he had the intention to make some sort of lame comeback, before clamming it shut. "Thanks," he muttered, setting the bottle down near the door.

Anything else? He stood there dumbly for a moment to contemplate, unable to think of any reason why he'd want the pretty unfriendly faun to stay for any moment more. A foot idly stepped backwards, landing on something that pricked the unsiderside of it. Wincing, he looked back to see what he'd stepped on - a splinter. Just his luck.

He pointed downwards to Valentin. "Mind cleaning these up," he grunted, although it sounded more like a command than a request.

Without even waiting for his reaction, Owen made his way towards the bed (albeit more steadily than before), dropping to his knees to reach his arms beneath the dark underside of his bed as if to search for something. As far as he was concerned, Valentin would be obediently sweeping the wood chippings off the floor behind him.

When the bottle was set aside, Valentin just rolled his eyes. How ungrateful.

He was already picking up the strap to his back and settling it over his shoulder, assuming already that there wasn't, in fact, 'anything else', and he could finally be on his way. The response he got though, caused him to lift his gaze slowly back to Owen, harboring a disapproving glare. His eyes then fell to the mess on the floor. Sure, he'd figured at first that he would have to be the one to clean it up, but that didn't mean he should be. It was hardly his mess! No, he'd fixed the door and he didn't even really have to come and do that much. He could have said no and make some other poor soul come figure it out, even though they'd have probably been too stupid and confused and he'd still have to come and help! Sometimes it was just easier to do a job yourself, he'd admit. But anyone could pick up splinters, door-sized splinters they may be.

His ears batted backwards unhappily. "Clean up your own mess," he bit back.

But he didn't leave right away. Valentin lingered, not sure why exactly. Maybe to see if Owen would actually start cleaning the mess, though he doubted it. Maybe because the boy obviously thought he had something better to do that wasn't cleaning, and that involved fishing about suspiciously under his bed. What was he doing, anyway?

At Valentin's little retort, Owen halted his searching temporarily, raising his head to - ow. He rubbed his head after bumping it on the underside of the bed. Okay, so he'd pull his head out before raising his head to level the faun with a glare. The splinters had not moved. "S'not my mess. I dun wanna clean it." He returned to fumbling beneath the bed.

Ugh, where was it? It was funny how the world worked. Everything was tossed in your face when you least wanted it, but the moment you actually looked for it, it'd be nowhere in sight. Stuff was unceremoniously tossed aside from beneath his bed - torn magazine pages, books that he'd never bothered reading, and even a large, ornate mirror was pulled out in his futile attempts at searching. Finally, an 'ah!' noise sounded as he pulled a rather dusty looking wine bottle. With all that effort he'd gone through, the stupid faun had better be grateful.

Standing up again, he returned to stand before Valentin, holding out the bottle expectantly. "I dun want it," it shrugged. "I've had this in my room for God knows how long. Just take it." It'd probably been there for at least a few months - did it ever go off? He didn't know nor care.

Valentin tried not to smile when Owen bumped his head, and failed. But he did manage to quell it as the other boy turned to glare at him. The faun snorted quietly at the response he was offered. Not Owen's mess? Well it wasn't Valentin's mess either. Glancing around the shards of wood on the floor, he supposed he would have to at least clean the hall if this lazy bum wasn't going to move any of it. He decided it would be prudent, then, to simply brush all the debris into the room so that the hall was at least clear. Then, if Owen still didn't want to clean, it was entirely his issue.

His gaze returned with little interest to the antics taking place over by the bed. Mostly, it looked like junk was stored there, which was annoying but not surprising. Valentin's own room was brimming with junk--but his was at least useful junk. Like tools and metal bits and that old broken window air conditioner he really was going to take apart and rebuild into something awesome one of these days. He noticed the mirror and thought it curious such a thing was stored under the bed. There was plenty of wall space for the thing, and was nice looking. But then Owen made a triumphant sound and Valentin was pulled from his own head.

Owen was regarded with an uncertainly raised eyebrow and he approached. As the explanation came, Valentin found himself frowning. A gift? Why was Owen giving him this bottle of wine? Sure, Valentin had given something as well but it had seemed entirely unappreciated. Almost tentatively like it was some sort of trick, the faun lifted a hand to circle around the neck of the bottle in acceptance.

"... What is it?" It could be wine, he supposed, but he wasn't at all familiar with the nature of wine bottles and how to tell them apart. If it was, maybe Kale would appreciate it.

If this was Owen trying to be civil, Valentin fleetingly wondered if maybe he should just sweep up the mess for him. It's not like it would take much time or effort, and he could simply dump the debris in the woods nearby. He tried not to think he was considering being nice to this kid.

So Valentin wasn't immediately leaping to clean up the mess. That didn't surprise him at all, but Owen just really hoped that he'd just get it done with already. He wasn't in the mood to do any chores - would it really kill to do a few favours for him?

Well, at least he took the offered bottle, though not without that air of suspicion. Well, it was better than flat-out rejecting it anyway. The question did cause an impatient groan, coupled with the roll of his eyes.

"What'sit look like?" he snorted. Although really, Owen didn't quite know what type of wine it was - just that it was wine and that you drunk it. He supposed the bottle would at least half of its beverage left. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Just tryn'a be nice. Nuffin' wrong with that, is there?" he bit back, turning his head away, trying not to look the least bit embarrassed.

"You did fix my door..." he mumbled under his breath, still scowling at the ungrateful faun.

The suspicious look was lingering but somewhat dampened as Valentin shoved the bottle into his bag. Straightening again, he didn't respond to the question he interpreted as rhetorical, but merely bobbed his head and let his gaze slide away.

With a resigned fall of his shoulders, Valentin began the task of shuffling his hooves through the mess, nudging the larger debris out into the hall. He didn't have a broom or anything with him--he supposed he'd need a wheel barrow to cart it all out to the woods. So he'd do that in a bit. First was getting it out of Owen's room so that the new door could be shut.

A quick glance down around the mess brought his gaze over to the other disorder accumulated near Owen's bed. Without raising his eyes to look at the boy or pausing in his task, he muttered sternly like it wasn't a favor he was offering, "Do you want that thing nailed up before I leave?" The jut of his chin motioned vaguely towards the mirror. It would only take a moment to complete the task after all, and he had all of the materials required on hand.

Owen followed the faun's gaze towards the mirror, before returning to look towards his face. Unwillingly, the corner of his lip would twist upwards in a sort of half-smirk. "You wanna nail that thing?" He chuckled - a low, dry, humourless sort of laugh.

His vaguely amused air dropped in an instant, replaced by a sudden bout of anger on his expression. "You couldn't nail it f you wanted to. You can try and drive a drill through it and it won't do nuthin'. Just stare at you with the same god-damn face it's done for ages now!" His arms were tossed in the air in an almost theatrical manner before he turned around sharply towards the mirror, giving it a hard boot. It moved a few inches across the floor. If it had been at all sore, it certainly didn't show on the boy's face.

After a pause, he blinked, turning back towards the faun, his expression cool and calm like he hadn't just had a mini-tantrum. "You can try if you want." His shrug was indifferent.

The reason for the sudden outburst was lost on Valentin. One eyebrow rose when Owen kicked the mirror, and the faun's arms crossed over his chest like he was watching a child misbehave. Which, it suddenly felt was the case. Owen was pinned with a flat stare.

"The mirror shows you the same face every time, huh? What is it with the cheap crap theses days." The sarcasm was topped off with a roll of his eyes, and Valentin waved one hand vaguely at a wall. "I just meant I could pin it to the wall, I don't have to make a hole in your stupid mirror." He slowed down and spoke clearly as if Owen had been having difficulty making out his words. "Nail goes in the wall. Mirror goes on the nail."

He shook his head, thinking that being nice wasn't worth the trouble. "Y'know what, never mind. Just thought I'd offer. That's it then?" He turned with an vexed puff of air to continue maneuvering the debris out into the hall.

Owen blinked in realisation. Well, of course Valentin didn't understand. The whole thing that the mirror often changed what it showed, making him appear as something completely different to what people saw on the outside. But as far as this faun was concerned, this was probably just an ordinary mirror. He probably looked like a bit of an idiot right there...

And as Valentin explained further, Owen didn't know whether he was supposed to be offended or humiliated. As a response, he just sort of stared at him with his classically dull, vacant expression. "...Oh..." Well, he'd totally misunderstood right there.

Right now, his mind was wavering on two decisions. He could own up, apologise, and maybe have that mirror hung up. It did look rather nice, after all... Or he could call Valentin out on how rude he was being, shove him out the room and leave him to clean up his mess. They were both appealing choices.

And while he was standing around considering his answer, he realised he'd left a moment of hesitation that probably stretched out a bit too long. He quickly scrambled for an answer. "Sorry. I'm sorry you're being an ass-- I mean, I'm being an ass. I mean, we're both asses but--" His brows knitted, obviously not used to the whole idea of 'apologizing'. But it was the thought that count... right? He shrugged in defeat before pointing to the mirror. "Just hang it up will you."

The look Valentin gave Owen was lingeringly unimpressed with his attempted apology. It was decidedly awkward being apologized to anyway. He considered very seriously for a moment just leaving without another word. But he pinned his ears back instead and approached the mirror quickly, fishing a nail from his pocket as he moved, and jamming it into a random spot on the wall. The nail was hammered into place before he grabbed the mirror's frame a little roughly and pushed it onto it's new hook. The mirror hung crookedly, but he didn't move to fix it. And he turned from the task without giving the decorative item a decent glance, eager to finally retreat from this place.

He didn't ask if that was good or if Owen needed anything else, because he'd asked that already and frankly he didn't care enough to ask again. So he spun around on his hooves and hastily took his leave.


(( I know I'm giving up an interesting opportunity with this mirror, but with recent developments I think that this thread is too in-the-past. It's my fault for not responding, but I at least owe you a proper exit! :'D I'msorry. ))

Watching with only a half-interested stare, Owen didn't fail to notice Valentin's lack of care when hanging the mirror, nor did it really surprise him - he hadn't exactly given him a warm welcome. He'd been dreading his reaction to the reflection, but apparently, he barely paid any heed to it. A slight cause for relief in all this.

And as he made his hasty exit, Owen merely stood there staring at the door in a sort of 'did that just happen?' stupor. He couldn't even tell if the interaction had been good or bad, or what he could gather from it. It wasn't exactly nice, but then again, he had done him a few favours.

"...Thanks," he delayedly mumbled, long after the student had already left. Maybe it would telepathically reach him. That, he decided, was enough social interaction for one day. He shut his newly fixed door, hoping sorely that it would stay that way.

((It's okay! So much as happened since then. ^^;))