Locker Rooms of the Brain Chamber, 0915 hours.


Virgil made a disgusted noise as he slicked his hair back with the oily goop that would protect it from the liquid in their encephala tanks. He scooped more of it from the pot and stepped closer to the mirror to plaster down his eyebrows - or risk losing them.

In his reflection he appeared leaner than usual in the black Mysteries wet suit. It was zipped up to the neck and sported a silver, embroidered patch on the right breast: a runic number for nine.

He was in here early because he liked to spend time immersed in the tanks, making small talk with the brains before the others joined them to perform today's experiment. Virgil found a work haven in the Thought Room because he was already versed in mind magic; it made him feel steady, on familiar ground.

He heard a shower go off, followed by the familiar voice of his mentor. "Watch, ah, watch out for tank four," it warned in a laughing timbre. "She took a nasty turn towards the, um, the end."

Yavin Morgenthau strolled out, wrapped around the waist in a bright orange towel. He went over to a locker to retrieve his smoking pipe and plopped down tiredly on a bench. The wizard lit up with a flame dancing on the tip of his finger. Virgil turned to smile dryly at him.

"Consider me forewarned. That looks rather painful, doesn't it?" he nodded at the bruises on Yavin's ribs - they were visible just over the old man's medley of tattoos around his side. There was no getting used to those things.

Six or seven varied eyeballs stared out, blinking at intervals, as unnerving as the day Virgil had first seen them.

Every time he left the Thought Chamber he remembered his age. Ah, to be a reckless Unspeakable allowing oneself to be thrown around by sociopathic brains! No, no. Once or twice in an hour would knock him out at this age. The young wixes can happily stand to be tossed and thrown a few dozen times.

He drew breathe through his pipe, following Virgil's attention.

"Hurts like you, ah, you wouldn't believe..." the older wizard snorted out a cloud of smoke. "I'll heal it later," he added before looking up at his companion with appraising eyes.

More than anywhere else, Virgil seemed most adult on level nine. It was a strange thing for Yavin to witness - that precocious young boy, this dauntless young man. Both with a penchant for getting into trouble.

"How are you, Virgil?" he tapped the mouthpiece against his chin. "Alright? Your friends, ah, Abby, hm, Nemo? All good?"

An expression of surprise crossed Virgil's face, but it quickly recovered. He probably hadn't been expecting a catch-up in the locker rooms at this hour of the morning. Why not? It was as good a place as any. And answers less contrived were more honest.

           "Oh. Yes. I mean, I'm fine, and fairly certain they're... good." Virgil paused, as if to think. "I suppose I've been busy."

Yavin studied the ashes of his pipe bowl and smiled to himself. Busy indeed. There didn't seem any end to the things his mentee could poke his nose into. Mysteries produced a great deal of reports every week - and without fail he would see Virgil's name pop up. Werewolf prophecies. Pentral exorcisms. Vampires[1], drugs[2], experiments.

"Not too busy though?" he took a puff, and there was a sympathetic look in his eye - unobscured by glasses. "And everything with Cepheus is fine?"

1.	Dec 4th 2011 - It's the Freakiest Show
2.	Jan 16th 2012 - It Scares Me Half to Death

Hearing that name here was a cool trickle of water down the back of his neck. Virgil looked around the locker room guardedly at first; nobody else had arrived but that could change any second. He didn't feel comfortable talking about this when he was just about to start work.

"Yes," he replied in a low voice, a little pink in the cheeks. "Everything's fine. Nothing I can't handle."

This paternalism was unlike his old tutor and Virgil did not like it. Not one bit. His countenance said as much. Yavin's mouth did a complicated, apologetic thing.

           "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. "Just realised I hadn't, hm, checked in with you for a, ah, a while."

Virgil shrugged, slicking his hair back again unconsciously. Sometimes he forgot that Yavin really was an awkward man underneath the loud madness of it all. Someone who occasionally forgot the linear flow of time and who fell into philosophical conversations at the drop of a hat.

"It's okay," he gestured over his shoulder with a faint smile. "I better get in there. I'll be sure to watch out for tank four," Virgil's smile broadened slightly. "I'm really fine, Yavin. Promise."

And he really believed that.