Xavier could barely keep his eyes open watching Professor Rousseau wave his arms around like he was conducting an invisible orchestra. Something about gate formation theory and regulatory protocols.
This is what I died for? Xavier thought, rolling his shoulders to work out the tension building there. To sit through lectures about paperwork with a migrane?
He let his gaze drift across the classroom. Sayuri hunched over her notebook, green hair creating a curtain around her face as she sketched detailed diagrams in the margins. Her pen moved in quick, precise strokes—not just taking notes, but capturing the essence of what Rousseau was explaining through visual interpretation.
To his right, Luka had given up all pretense of paying attention. The broad-shouldered Russian sketched what looked like weapon designs, his thick fingers surprisingly delicate as he added measurements and balance calculations to each drawing.
