(no subject)

[wolflord_andain]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that every group of teachers needs a refuge from the students. An inviolable sanctum full of tea, slightly uncomfortable chairs, a cinder-choked fireplace, and a slight stale smell of cabbage and chalk dust.

For Galadan, the andain otherwise known as Professor Gideon Wolfe--even this sanctum is not enough.

Some may, in fact, justly name it another avenue of persecution. Fortunately Galadan has learned to cope.

And subtle power plays have always been his forte.

Comments

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"It savaged Miss Twaite -" began Mr. Fortinbras indignantly, when Miss Spenlow says, in some alarm, "Well, don't let the headmistress hear you talking about the dog that way, for goodness' sake!"

"Nothing in this school sings in tune," mutters Monsieur Prosper.

[wolflord_andain]

"One might almost suspect she viewed that dog as a substitute for a child."

Galadan is not impressed.

He is also in the enviable position of always knowing precisely when the headmistress is approaching.

It saves on time and trouble, certainly.

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"But whyever should she need one when she has forty utterly charming ones here in the school?" Miss Twaite remarks, blandly, and ties off the last stitch in her mending.

She folds it up carefully and puts it on the table. "Speaking of which, might someone be so kind as to check the time for me?"

[wolflord_andain]

"Unfortunately I seem to have misplaced my pocket watch."

Galadan makes a careful show of patting himself down.

Miss Twaite does not appear fooled.

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

However, after a moment, Monsieur Prosper comes to the rescue with the news that it is twenty-seven past three and the next set of classes will be starting in three minutes.

"That's me, anyways," says Mr. Fortinbras, and stalks out, not without one last sullen look in the direction of Mr. Wolfe.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan merely smiles, marking his place before setting his book down on the side table.

Then he stands, offering a slight bow to both Miss Twaite and Miss Spenlow--with slightly less irony directed at Miss Twaite--and leaves.

He has his own class to bring to order.

It takes less time than it used to.