Passive Ward | Early Morning
— William Shakespeare
The Tempest
"The safety of all of campus is at stake, if you really want me to make that case." Castor riposted gruffly, arms folded over his broad chest, beard shaggy and spectacles low on his nose.
"He's not wrong, but I'm simply concerned for these people. There has been near fatal injury. You can't expect me to believe this is the first time, either." Harper added, unsure of where he'd left his own spectacles in the small office of Mrs. Rogers, his hazel gaze fluttering about the room in desperation to return them to his face.
It was his colleague who passed the man his much-needed glasses from the shelf behind his head even though he continued to glare at Cecily, "We don't technically need you to believe any of this. You are here to listen while the both of us have the Headmistress' permission to conduct these interviews. You will be sitting with Mister Fairfax, who we will be speaking with last. There are the two most directly involved, Misters Madden and Savatier."
Did it ruffle the woman further that Professor Devlin so formally spoke of the passives under her care? It wasn't as if the blu e-eyed galdor cared one bit.
"They do not know each other is here. It is my request that you don't spoil it, either, Mrs. Rogers." Professor Moore added hastily, standing and fussing with his cravat, a nervous sort of energy. This was so far out of his wheelhouse as a scientist, as a monic theorist, and yet he'd willingly committed more than just his time to the care of those passives he'd come to know. There had been so much blood already—
"Yes, sirs."
"Good then. Someone should be bringing Ayden to you shortly, and it will be I who will be interviewing him once I'm finished speaking with Fionn." Castor tapped her desk with his knuckles for emphasis, pausing to bring the same hand upward to tweak his nose, "I have a feeling that boy's a charmer, so don't let him bias your views to the truth."
"Please. I've been doing this for decades. Don't think one passive's silver tongue's going to make that much of a difference in my opinions, Professor." Huffed the grey-haired woman before she sat at her desk heavily, glaring at the two men's backs as they both turned and left her office.
Out in the hall, Moore paused, snatching the shoulder of his friend while he quietly closed the office door, "This is the right thing, Castor—"
"—Ophelia agrees, Harper. The conditions passives have been allowed to exist in shouldn't be like a prison. That isn't stewardship. That isn't caring for our children, magical or not. You know that."
"I do. I just. I worry about the rest of your Magisters. The Chairs. The King."
"One step at a time, my friend. That's all we can do, really. Let me worry about that. Let's get these boys sorted first, alright?"
"Indeed." Sighed the younger professor, shoulders sagging. Turning to head down the hall in an opposite direction from the Magister, three doors down from the office to where Lars would be waiting in another office, currently unused, already bolstered with snacks and tea, two of Harper's notebooks and a pen ready for use. Bolstering his field and curling fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the mess it'd become on his rushed race across campus from Laboratory Beta as the sun rose, he opened the door with one of his typical awkward, shy sort of smiles, "Hello again, Lars. Did you make yourself comfortable? Shall we make formal what I already know?"
Castor, in opposite, traveled across the hall and a handful more doors the other direction, slipping into Mrs. Roger's own little sitting room, complete with her hearth and comfortable, broken in chairs, both of which had been in need of reupholstering since the passing of her husband several years ago. Near the hearth was her own kettle, a few cups and a mix of teas as well as a few breakfast pastries—Harper's orders since he knew the house this whole shakedown had been arranged to begin at.
The dark-eyed professor, unlike his colleague, only offered the hint of a smile to the young passive who'd been brought to the room bright and early this morning, allowed to linger alone for probably far too many minutes too long,
"Good morning, Fionn. It's been a bit since we've seen each other. I suppose you've got no clocking idea why you're here, hmm? I'm going to start by making some tea. Did you want some?"