["Bad" is an understatement. The beginning of a headache is weakly thrumming away behind his temples, some kind of pressure building up on the bridge of his nose as he tries to understand why he was shown an illusion of a younger version of himself crawling out of his own grave. It's fake. He knows that much. There's no way he died, after all. But it doesn't stop him from running a hand down his face in an attempt to get control over himself. It felt so real.
Explaining this scene away will be hell, come tomorrow.]
Fine. We'll talk. But after that — I want you gone. You have no idea what kind of mess you're causing.
[And without any further prompting, he's turning around and taking them to a more secluded part of campus. A private enough area that they don't have to worry about students or staff members intruding.]
no subject
Explaining this scene away will be hell, come tomorrow.]
Fine. We'll talk. But after that — I want you gone. You have no idea what kind of mess you're causing.
[And without any further prompting, he's turning around and taking them to a more secluded part of campus. A private enough area that they don't have to worry about students or staff members intruding.]