Re: cressida/micah: first aid area
"Teenagers," Micah said with a shake of his head in shared exasperation of her observation. "And you've got the Hydra version of them." Smirking some, giving a sympathetic, but teasing wince, Micah settled his expression after seeing her concern. "You're right, though. Some will. Maybe next time they'll learn. Maybe never. But some did, and that's good enough for me."
He'd long ago accepted that one couldn't hammer lessons into the heads of the willful and the young. They weren't tempered yet, they were headstrong and saw delinquency and rebellion as not only an "in" thing to participate in, but viewed it as though it was a necessary part of them being able to grow up. Micah remembered those days of his own all too well. St. Margaret's had not always been a peaceful place to learn and grow, even a decade or two ago when he was a young headstrong witch walking those halls.
"That feels much better," he commented, the wound having gone numb as she promised and he hardly felt the passing of her hand as she tended to it. However, Micah could smell her all too keenly and realized it had been some time since he'd been this close to a woman. Since the death of his wife, he hadn't been avoiding women, per se. He'd just not been so much... taking note. Cressida caused him to take note. She was strikingly beautiful in a rare way that her intelligence only magnified.
Kaden looked away, looking across the clearing at the students still gathering around and the staff members getting them organized to go home. "All in all," he said softly, admitting out loud: "I think they did very well for themselves."