[East Street] No More Pencils, No More Books (Hadrian)

[Vhast]

The student could manage well enough on his own, using Hadrian mostly for a directional crutch since it seemed Vhast momentarily had the gait of a drunken sailor. The nausea quickly subsided when he felt the air upon his face however, given a chance to inhale something that was not the stench of refuse poured into the alley or the stale breath of his mugger. Disoriented but not defeated, he smiled encouragingly when the explanation of his mentor's ability was spoken with such nonchalance. "It was bloody brilliant was what it was," the fear broken as his voice drawled excitedly, managing a light chuckle that momentarily allowed his concentration to slip from his footing, pushing Hadrian a step to the right before regaining balance again. "'Eh... Sorry about that." The book he had somehow managed to hold on to through being slammed into a wall was grasped by a renewed vigor, the blood dripping down his face but a minor inconvenience to him now. The sting from the various wounds he incurred still plucked nerve endings with a sharp impression, but the adrenaline that coursed through his veins allowed him a few moments to ply his sense of humor. "I knew studying under you would have its benefits at some point," snickering sarcasm dripping from each word as he stared to the street ahead, trying to find the light in the conversation to overlap a situation which had seemed so dark and dour not moments before. "How about I buy you a drink with the coin you saved me? My head could certainly use one...maybe two."

[Hadrian]

"Ah, well. I try." He wasn't graceful at accepting compliments, even if his gratitude was sincere. But he did crack a smile for a little while, so that was something. "Don't worry. I'm here." The words were simple, but perhaps telling if either of them was paying close attention. Vhast was probably used to Hadrian by now, and how his mind would wander, or part of it would, even as he carried on a conversation. It wasn't intentional rudeness, but an eager mind. But now, Hadrian was entirely there, body keeping Vhast's on the straight and narrow path toward safety, mind doling out a string of words for Vhast's to hold onto, and of course the magic. His young protege was one of the few people who had seen so blatant a display of power. Hadrian had been to places like Sunberth where people would as soon gut a wizard as speak to him, and to Ravok where any such power might be seized to work for Rhysol's aims. There was a safety in secrecy, and a power in mystery, though Hadrian didn't actively seek any sort of mystique. For once, Hadrian was entirely there. He gauged Vhast after the laughing offer of a drink, then smiled and nodded, tugging a handkerchief out from his vest. It was handed over. "Either you staunch that bleeding or I have to play nursemaid," he said with faux gruffness. He would not have minded, albeit inexpertly, tending to his hurts. "A beer might settle our nerves," he agreed, "and give you a chance to find your feet before we return to the University. I hope you don't plan on spending the night on the town, though. You ought to rest."