I missed you very badly on Valentine's Day. He noticed. He wanted to ensure I had a way to keep you permanently close in my thoughts, no matter what time of year it was.
I certainly wouldn't object if you wanted to celebrate it soon. Though I think if you put yourself in debt to him any further, I'll lose you once more. He's wracked up quite a bill for you in your absence.
Good lord, you've fallen for a debtor. That's no way to secure a future for yourself.
Ah! But speaking of music, good that you mentioned it — one of your ducklings oversees a music shop here, I'm told. Do you suppose you can coax him into letting us commandeer a piano?
They are my students, and coaxing him will require seeing if there's more than one piano in this city, as he's quite a talented pianist himself. I should think him loath to give up something that brings him so much joy.
Graduated summa cum laude with a doctorate in quantum physics and a lad half my age is calling me by given name like a classmate. What is the world coming to.
Well, you called him a duckling. I should think you're even at this point.
Though truly: get into it with him as you like, although I can't imagine he'll be disrespectful in the slightest, but keep referring to him as his last name, please.
[Because fixing up a home is very tiring on your own, and a mansion is a great deal larger than an apartment, and also she very simply misses him. Her separation anxiety isn't half so bad as it was when he first got here, but that doesn't mean it's gone entirely.]
[And it quite literally is a flash, as one instant he's elsewhere in the city and the next he's simply stepping through the doorway of whatever room she's in, dapper and charming and armed with a bag of fruit and a whimsical bouquet of cherry blossoms.]
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He seems like a good lad. Head on straight, right-minded priorities. Seems I owe you a Valentine, then, is it?
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That's how we ought to break our newfound home in. By celebrating Valentine's day. There's no music, but we can still dance.
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Ah! But speaking of music, good that you mentioned it — one of your ducklings oversees a music shop here, I'm told. Do you suppose you can coax him into letting us commandeer a piano?
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Though truly: get into it with him as you like, although I can't imagine he'll be disrespectful in the slightest, but keep referring to him as his last name, please.
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Do you really think me so petty as to lower myself to calling him by his first name in return, tit for tat?
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[Mm. But her reasons for her protectiveness towards her student can wait. They aren't something she wants to tell him over text.]
Regardless: I'll ask him tonight. In the meantime, are you anywhere near home? Home being the mansion, not the apartment.
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Is that how we're designating home now? Nevertheless: I can be there in a blink, if need be. Shall I?
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[Because fixing up a home is very tiring on your own, and a mansion is a great deal larger than an apartment, and also she very simply misses him. Her separation anxiety isn't half so bad as it was when he first got here, but that doesn't mean it's gone entirely.]
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[And it quite literally is a flash, as one instant he's elsewhere in the city and the next he's simply stepping through the doorway of whatever room she's in, dapper and charming and armed with a bag of fruit and a whimsical bouquet of cherry blossoms.]
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