Al lifted his head from his pillow, lowering the book he'd been reading suspended in air with arms that had long gone numb. "Numbers, oh yeah, only thing worse on the wingbacks is Latin." He laughed and went to go back to reading just as his left wrist gave out and the large volume on Runes crashed into his forehead, shouldn't have moved, he figured.
Sitting up and rubbing his face, he looked to Wayne, "Arithmancy exam's going to be a bitch this year, isn't it?" He had a defeated tone about him, the way he looked and sounded these days, as if loneliness suddenly didn't suit him.