The last afternoon classes were, by Prof. Montclair's estimation, a very mixed blessing. While the twilight usually heralded the onset of his greater strength, he was still bound by his responsibilities as a teacher.

Golden eyes scanned the room. Earlier, he had given his students a quiz. A quick reaming of his pupils' minds easily told him who would pass this test and who would require extra work to bring their grades up. Yet no matter how much I impress upon them the values of learning the lessons of their race's past, they never seem to grasp the concept. He sighed as he kneaded his temples. Truly, a flawed race, humanity.

Prof. Montclair hid his sigh with a longish, extravagant yawn, stretching his lean arms over his head as he leaned back on his chair, almost tipping the piece of furniture over were it not for his extraordinary balance. His kind had no concept of rest or sleep, but taking a human form often introduced certain weaknesses, such as involuntary reactions.

Scratching his nose, his gaze alighted on a particular student, though all he could see was the top of her reddish-brown hair pillowed on her crossed arms.

Sandra Channing, better called 'Sandy', was her name, and she interested him. Reading and probing her thoughts, the Savant found broken and disjointed memories that seemed at odds with her over-all history. Her files listed a rare condition that was the cause of her falling asleep in his class every now and then but he still needed answers.

And what was the chosen method of all Nal on the seach for answers. Practical research. Montclair would have grinned evilly but rather looked at the clock and fought an unelegant snort.

Just have to wait for the damned bell to-

A brash ringing that suddenly erupted made him lose his balance. His frame tipped backwards off the chair and sent him tumbling down to the floor. By then, all the students could see were his long legs askew in the air against the desk's edge.

"Ow."

:Sandy slept fitfully at her desk, occasionally twitching in her forced slumber. It had been nearly three days since her last bout of unconsciousness, and she had needed this little nap. She didn't dream, as usual, but thought she could almost feel something, just out of her senses, watching her sleeping mind. The loud crash of the falling chair jolted her awake, causing her to jerk back from the desk and also fall from her chair. Owww... She sat up, rubbing the back of her head where it had struck her chair. She pulled herself upright, picking up her quiz, thankful she had managed to finish it before blacking out. It took her a little longer than the other students to collect her things, one hand balling into a loose fist and pressing to her mouth to stop numerous yawns. Finally, she slung her book bag over one shoulder, and ambled slowly to the desk, dropping her quiz on top of the stack. She smiled weakly at the professor as he righted himself, feeling slightly less of an idiot since she hadn't been the only one to take a spill:

Are you...:yawn:...alright Professor?

(Sorry if I took shorter than I said.)

He could hear the giggling of most of the girls in the room. The being in mortal covering was glad he couldn't color in embarrassment, else who knew what would have happened to his students.

From his vantage, he could only see the top of Sandy's head. Mustering as much casualness as possible, he replied, "Save for my bruised dignity, I'm fine, thank you."

To the rest of the class, Prof. Montclair said, "Well, since I take it you're all up and chittering, I suppose you've all finished. Now turn your papers in and I'll see you all on Wednesday. Except for," A slim white hand rose up and pointed somewhere to Sandy's left. "You, Ms. Channing. I'd like a moment of your time. The rest of you, dismissed."

Yes Professor.

:she stepped aside, letting the other girls pass. The sleeve of her overly long emerald green shirt hung over her hand, the soft fabric pressing to her mouth as she bit back yet another yawn. Her other hand idly smoothed the cloth of her hunter green, ankle length skirt, fingers jittering nervously. Did I do something in my sleep again? Am I in trouble? Oh God, I hope not, I actually like this class...:

He sat up and straightened his chair, long black hair tied neatly by red ribbon almost swallowing the afternoon light as he bent to pick up his strewn effects.

The Savant knew what she was thinking, but he didn't see the point in upsetting her. But he was glad that she cared for his class. Someone had to. But he didn't know why he felt that way. He would have to study of the human psyche some more later.

"Well, Ms. Channing, that has to be, not that I'm counting, the fourth time you've fallen asleep in my class."

When he turned to meet her gaze, his own features were arranged in what he'd hope was a concerned look. No sense in scaring the subjects, the Maestro did say...

:her voice came out as a near whisper:

Yes sir. I've...got a disorder. I normally can't sleep at all....and when I do, I usually can't control where or when. It's not that class is boring! I...just can't help it. I fall asleep in other classes to...

:she sounded absolutely miserable, tired, and looked the part. The dark circles that seemed to be permanently etched around her eyes were even deeper than usual, showing that even her forced sleep has of late been anything but restful. She seemed to be caught in a constant state of half swaying, but always caught herself before tipping over, with the air of practice at such recoveries. She looked at the floor, both hands worrying at her skirt now:

I'm sorry...but, I finished the quiz first....and I go back over things in my room...I really do.

"Please, Ms. Channing, just a bit more of your time, I beg." That's a new word... Savants took what they wanted by force of personality or by the other method. To 'beg', the word left an actual taste in his mouth and mind, was simply beyond their extraordinary arrogance.

Montclair, even without Sandy's mumbled explanations, already understood much about her condition. But his inquisitive nature would not let it rest at that. Evidences of something else taken root within her mind had gotten a hold of his curiosity.

"Well, I can find no flaws in your performance, save the occasional hiccup. But your condition does concern me. Now, you have been visiting the infirmaries, right? Your doctor has been trying his hardest to help you?" His golden eyes narrowed, affixing her with a penetrating gaze he usually reserved for students suspected of not submitting his requirements and crossword puzzles. If someone else had found a way to aid her, it may complicate his studies.

And the Savants hated complications.

Yes professor. I've been to the infirmary a few times....but they told me the same thing as before. There...is no cure for my condition. None that they can find anyway.

:she sighed miserably, looking back up at the man, forcing a weak smile:

I've been living with this...for a few years now..:yawn:...I can manage. :frowns slightly: Although it has been....worse since I got here. More erratic than before.

Montclair's finger was tapping the side of his nose all throughout the conversation, his face scrunched up in a thoughtful daze.

"Worse, you say. Erratic, you add. Hmmm." His expression took on a faraway depth, as if plumbing for the answer from some unknown source. "There may be an alternative method..."

His eyes, the color reminiscent of treasures lost on some long-ago sea voyage bore into her own hazel orbs, as if laying bare her soul and all its secrets to be questioned and prodded and then stored away, his features the very definition of severity.

"Are you familiar with psionic therapy?"

:she listened to him curiously, flinching back and looking at the floor again when he made direct eye contact, her hands slightly gripping her skirt:

Alternative? Psionic? Ahh....no professor. I've..:yawns:..never heard of it before.

:she looked back up, one hand raised to her mouth from the yawn. Her head tilted to one side, her expression turning curious:

The orange and brown dusk sky began to take on a deep purple color, heralding the onset of night. But Montclair didn't need all his power yet.

He had to fight to keep his facial features from revealing any of his intentions, just in case she had powers the being of the Void had not foreseen. How in the Void does Ichimaru get around?

"Well, it's quite simple. Why don't you have a seat?" Montclair then went on to explain everything about the esoteric art of mind-reading.

:she nodded, tucking one hand behind her to pull her skirt out straight as she sat down, smoothing it over her knees as she set her book bag on the floor beside her:

Mind reading?

:Sandy sounded terribly skeptical, face scrunching up rather cutely at the notion:

Isn't that..:yawns:....just science fiction? Or magic? It isn't real.

:she shook her head, slowly beginning to think the professor was just messing with her, maybe trying to cheer her up. She smiled faintly, as this was one of the more unique approaches she'd encountered:

Prof. Montclair's tea cup began to float in front of Sandy's eyes, as did her book-bag as it floated up to orbit around her head. Through it all, the pale teacher smiled that patient nonchalant smile.

"There are still many things in this world we have yet to discover, Ms. Channing. So, I wouldn't discount these mysteries yet."

He patted the chair of his desk. "Now, would you like to give psionics a try?"

:her jaw dropped, eyes widening comically as she stared at the floating objects. She stuck out one hand and waved it back and forth spastically over the floating book bag, jerking her hand back with a yelp:

No wires...How? What? This isn't...you can't....

:she started babbling, obviously confused and slightly excited at the display:

Try? As in...me, do something like this? Uhm...sure!

:she stood up quickly, scurrying over to the professor's desk and hopping in his chair like an overawed child, feet swinging slowly with nervous energy:

What do I do professor?

:she sounded very eager, almost bouncing in the seat while she looked at him innocently:

He lay his pale hands on Sandy's shoulders, rubbing at the tensing muscles underneath. A thought came to mind about how her skin was soft from countless days of forced inactivity.

"I would only prefer it if you didn't tell anyone about this," Prof. Montclair replied, kneading her to relaxation as he leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Other than that, just relax and let your mind wander..."

Gently, he placed his open palms to the sides of her head and willed his consciousness to enter hers, readying her mind the way one would ready a book for pondering.