Thin shoulders wrapped in soft leather shrugged. "I do my best."

It had been too easy to forge such a dream, no problem with his prior experience and expertise in creating or simulating thoughts and dreams. Creating the beach was only the tip of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.

He followed her, stepping lightly into the sand. He offered her his arm as his eyes subtly took in the sight of Vanessa in her outfit. Very nice... Though I would have preferred a dress with a hint of slink... Prof. Montclair quashed the thought. "Come, there's a seat made ready for us."

If Vanessa had been paying attention, she would have noticed that the marks his feet made upon the sand were slowly eaten up by the shadows.

She glanced at the sand noticing something off about his prints for a second or two she may have dwelt upon it but, then the thought would be forgotten. She'd tap her feet against the sand pondering a moment or two why she didn't hear anyone swimming, why she didn't heard the laugher of people at play when he told her the dreamer should have been swimming by now. this thought prevailed a moment longer than the last but, was soon dismissed as them taking a silent swim.

"Why would there be a seat ready for us in someone else's dream? Not like they were expecting us is it?"

she asked a bit curiously taking his arm cautiously her voice about as kind and polite as she could manage with just the hint of doubt as if he'd been expecting them to meet and come here to begin with; then again given she had a class with him the previous day it was possible he had noticed her eyes and she realized that might have been a sign of a dreamwalker so she didn't mention it to the man whom seemed so polite thus far.

Prof. Montclair chuckled again, a soft yet royal chuckle usually befitting the thoughtful monarch. "You'd be surprised what you'd find as you wandered about. Take you, for instance." His eyes met her face, affixing every feature with an unblinking gaze. "I'd made a few theories about your deep sleeping patterns but I never could have imagined you too were capable of the science we call 'dream walking."

Walking along the frolicking coast, they came upon a set table, complete with a lit candle and a single black rose in a slim onyx vase. Upon a smaller table next to one of the chairs, there sat a bucket with a label-less bottle of wine upon dry ice.

"A candle, the night and wine," mused the professor dryly. "Didn't see that coming." He stepped ahead and opened a chair for her.

Vanessa took the chair greatful or somewhat so, she was Vanessa after all not the nicest girl alive just nice enough not to be an ass. Legs crossed at the ankle knees held tightly together swung under the table she glanced to him curiously shrugging.

"Thank you Professor, but... I had no idea you studied the sleep habits of student's without telling them... that's not against the rules as far as I can tell so I'll keep it to myself."

she commented glancing at him still.

"Had no idea you could either I'm sure you have a lot to teach about being a san šetač or am I wrong? I'm afraid father didn't have too much info on us or any of the dream walking things her just knew they existed. he told me our abilities grow until our deaths when we get our greatest ability; or so grandma told him after she passed away."

she commented and questioned eyes gently grazing over the markless bottle of wine & dry ice in the bucket tapping her foot against the table she sat by humming to herself now.

"So say those who came before us," agreed Prof. Montclair as he picked up the bottle and shook it lightly. "Even if the notes were incomplete and held by fools who had no idea of their worth..."

Slim fingers popped the bottle open, the cork flying into the foam with a barely audible plop. He took a mild sniff of the wine's aroma. "French. 1203, [i]Chardonnay. Fairly good. Want some?"

Even before she had answered, he poured Vanessa a fair measure before helping himself, swirling the rich dark liquid before taking a sip. Golden eyes looked out into the heaving tide. "Did your grandmother ever tell you of the risks we face, Ms. Trusdale?"

"Sorry, I don't remember everything she's told me too well though there was something about darkness and our actions in life that shape our eternity but, that's all that comes to mind."

she paused looking at the bottle taking in the scent, which she found was a little odd that she could actually smell it; she'd never been able to smell noticably just taste but, perhaps she was getting better at this.

"Professor wouldn't you get in trouble if you were to give a student alcohol? I'm sure it would be against the rules even if it is completely imaginary."

she snickered slightly offering a glass for him to pour the liquid into. normally she wasn't a fan of wine but, she'd deal with it for a unique taste.

Prof. Montclair rolls his eyes as he poured her a generous measure of the bottle. With her glass three-fourths full, he turned to serve himself.

"Well, how would that work out, eh?" He adopted the the gruff yet high voice of the dorm matron. "'Ms. Trusdale, because we caught you drinking imaginary wine, we'll have to put you in imaginary detention. Meet me in my imaginary office for imaginary discipline'."

Smirking at the thought, he turned back to Vanessa. "Or something like that?"