The dreaded PTM. It was one of those rare events that was dreaded by students, their parents and their teachers in equal measure. Students hated the idea of their educators and their progenitors communicating. Parents hated having to listen to someone recite the failings of their darling children. And teachers just hated having to spend hours compiling plans and reports on their classes. For the longest time, Cobalt didn't quite understand why the Parent-Teacher Meeting was such a big deal for the ones teaching the students.

Until, of course, he found himself seated on the other side of the educator's desk.

For a class like 2-A, the PTM was probably a breeze, considering how many straight A students filled its ranks. Even 2-B through 2-E was looking to have an easy year regarding behavioural records and the like.

2-F, on the other hand...

"Arson, arson, tardiness, rude remarks, arson, general belligerency, arson... hm..." the Incubus remarked, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he swiped through the stack of behavioural reports on the desk in front of him.

Through the walls of the classroom, he could hear that the school was abuzz with the sounds of parents travelling from room to room, checking in on their childrens' various teachers and learning of their progress in their studies. He had already witnessed a Fallen mother figuratively explode upon learning of her child's poor manners in class, and he had also seen an Oni father literally explode when he had been informed that his son had been dealing redreed behind the dorms.

Sometimes, parents could be scarier than their children. And that didn't bode well for the teacher of one of the worst classes in the school...

Cobalt checked his watch. Five minutes to eight. Oh boy.

"This is going to be fun," he muttered dryly to himself, readjusting his wheelchair and locking eyes with the door at the far end of the classroom.

-----

Three meetings in, and Cobalt was faced with the first individual that made him shrink down into his wheelchair. She was an imposing Oni woman standing at almost seven feet tall, but that wasn't the most notable thing about her, oh no. She had deigned to dress herself in the kind of traditional Oni battle garb that the Incubus had only seen pictures of in his History books; a crossed chestwrap, a sweeping skirt that reached down to the ankles, and a pair of bronze bracers adorned with spikes. Dozens of knives clinked on the two belts wrapped around her waist as she approached, and as Cobalt nervously gestured for the Oni woman to take a seat, she planted both hands on her hips and cocked her head. Her exposed arms and midriff were covered in tattoos, and the way she glared at him nearly caused his heart to stop.

"Trayer, yeah?" she asked in a commanding tone, ignoring the proffered chair.

"U- Um... Yes, that's me. A- And you are...?" Cobalt replied, nervously eyeing up the many, many knives she had on display.

She clucked her tongue and casually cracked her knuckles, creating a sound not unlike a racking shotgun.

"Figured you'd be bigger," the Oni commented.

Her face seemed familiar, and going by the thick Italian-American accent she bore...

"Are you... Izzbelle's mother?" the Incubus asked in a shaky voice.

She nodded, folding her arms in a most intimidating fashion.

"Yeah. Aelda Suyas."

Swallowing hard, Cobalt began to fiddle with the various folders on his desk.

"W- Well, Miss Suyas, we have a lot to talk about regarding your daughter's, um... behaviour these past few months. But first, let's talk about her grades," he began, reaching for Izzbelle's file.

The Incubus screamed as a finely-honed throwing knife suddenly embedded itself in the folder, pinning it firmly to the desk.

"I have a better idea. Heard you put the smackdown on my daughter," Aelda stated, leaning forward as her eyes flashed.

Oh no. Oh no.

"M- M- Miss Suyas, I assure you, that entire situation had gotten c- completely out of hand! Yes, I was forced to raise my hand in defense, but I promise you, I did not mean to-!"

"Impressive."

"... S- Sorry?"

With a smirk, Aelda sat down upon the chair and crossed her legs. She wasn't wearing any shoes.

"Izzbelle's a wildfire. I know this more than anyone. Lil' tyke used to bite whenever I fed her," she laughed, idly running a finger across the spikes on her bracers.

"U- Um..."

"So you can imagine it's kind of a big deal whenever somethin' like this happens. I mean, my girl ain't ever lost to nobody but me or her father. Period."

She leaned back in her chair and fixed Cobalt with a piercing, scrutinising gaze.

"I heard you were of Trayer blood. Got me curious to see another Incubus in the flesh. Lookin' at you now, though...?"

Nodding slowly, a scary smile appeared on Aelda's face.

"Now I'd say you'd be perfect," she said cryptically, her smile doing nothing to settle the Incubus' nerves.

He grabbed his wrist beneath the table, doing everything in his power to stop shaking.

"Perfect for what...?" he breathed.

Aelda shook her head.

"Forget about it. Lemme hear about these grades or whatever."

Fumbling with his papers, Cobalt spread Izzbelle's grade reports out in front of him and began to explain the situation to the Oni's mother. But even as he told her of the her daughter's record of consistent Fs and Es, Aelda just sat with an oddly smug look on her face. She rhythmically drummed her fingernails against her bracers, disrupting the Incubus' thoughts with constant tapping.

"U- Um... I've been considering signing Izzbelle up for afterschool lessons. Some supplementary classes to help her get to grips with-"

Aelda drew one of her knives and began to pick at her teeth with the tip.

"I don't care. I wanna know about you. About your journey," she interrupted, dislodging a small piece of meat and flicking it across the room.

"My what?"

"Everybody's got a journey. Mine started in Sicily, then all over Italy, 'til I decided to move across the water. Izzbelle's journey started in Brooklyn, then headed to juvie centres all over the city, before windin' up in Hell. What about you?"

Her question came out of nowhere, throwing the Incubus completely off-guard. Intimidated by Aelda's sheer presence, he stammered out an answer.

"Um... Well... I- I was born in Brimstone, I know that. I moved with my family to Phrodival when I was little, then we moved back when I was around sixteen. I was in England for a few years, before having to go to Phrodival again when..."

"When you hit twenty-one, right?"

His blood froze solid in his veins. She knew...?

"You...?"

She nodded solemnly.

"I know what happens to Incubi. So I thought I'd know where your journey would end. But clearly I don't. So tell me, Cobalt; where do you see your journey endin'?"

"I- I don't think I understand."

"It's not that hard. I know where mine's endin'. I know where my husband's endin'. I think I even know where Izzbelle's headin' for too."

She shrugged and sheathed the knife before reaching for the one that she had pierced Izzbelle's folder with.

"But maybe... maybe I know where you're gonna end up, huh? Just have to wait and see what Lorenzo thinks first," she stated, smiling as she got to her feet.

"Huh?!"

"See you around, Trayer."

Turning sharply on her heel, the battle-garbed Oni marched out of the classroom, knives clinking with every step she took. Even long after Aelda and her aura of intimidation left the room, Cobalt sat in place, still frozen with equal parts fear and shock. Her indifference towards her daughter's floundering grades was a big enough surprise, but that wasn't what kept him rooted in place.

She knew. She knew.

Unlike so many, Izzbelle's mother knew the ultimate fate of all Incubi. What happened to them. Where they went. What they became...

"G- Get it together, Trayer... Get it together..." he breathed, nervously stuffing the scattered documents back into Izzbelle's damaged folder.

But for some reason, his personal mantra wasn't settling his frayed nerves like they usually did.

-----

There was a knock at the door, startling the Incubus as he poured himself a flask of tea.

"H- Hello?" he stammered, swiping his lunchbox off the desk as he scrambled to look professional.

"Hiya! Is this Colter Torres?" called a voice from the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, do you mean Cobalt Trayer...?"

"Oh, that's right! Sorry, Mr. Traya!"

He sighed. Before they even entered the room, he realised that he was dealing with Lottie's parents.

"Close enough. Please, come on in!"

The classroom door opened, revealing a pair of simply dressed Golems, both bearing smiles that seemed to set Cobalt's frayed nerves at ease. A pair of polished granite amulets hung from their necks, and as they approached his desk, they stopped in place and bowed reverently. Neither of them seemed to be wearing shoes, causing their hooves to clack against the flooring.

"Before we begin, we just want to thank you for taking such good care of Charlotte. She's been singing your praises even since she came to visit!" Mr. Deyeyr beamed, clasping his hands together.

He did a double-take. The parents of one of his students was actually being nice to him? That was certainly a first...

"O- Oh, well, you're most welcome. Please, take a seat!" the Incubus stated, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

Rummaging through Lottie's folder, he took a quick peek at the grade reports from her other classes and frowned. Of course, whether their upbeat demeanor persisted throughout the meeting, well... that was another matter entirely.

"We know she's not the easiest to teach, so don't feel like you're going to offend us with her grades," Mrs. Deyeyr suddenly said, noticing the look on his face.

Her husband nodded.

"Aye. A regrettable side effect of being the Rotainmos, I'm afraid."

Cobalt blinked a few times, not entirely sure what he had just said. He knew that he had just spoken Tongues, but it wasn't a word that he recognised.

"Um..."

Mrs. Deyeyr gave him a reassuring smile. It seemed Lottie's naturally calming aura was hereditary, as despite his uncertainty, Cobalt's couldn't help but feel his whole body relax.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Traya, we should probably explain. We're a part of the Sunmos Sect; the Slomba chapter, to be precise."

His eyes widened. Upon hearing that, it suddenly made much more sense.

Organised religion was a rare thing on Hell, owing to the demons' rather sordid history of oppression at the hands of zealous movements both domestic and foreign, but in isolated settlements, there were still a few faiths practiced by conservative clans. The Sunmos Sects were one of the more well-known movements; a peaceful faith started by Golems, believing in the transient power of slumber and how suspending oneself in the world between consciousness and unconsciousness opens up the soul to enlightenment. He had skimmed over a few articles about them before, but had never met a Sunmos monk in the flesh before.

Cobalt never would have guessed that Lottie was a member of their order.

"I see. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly did you just refer to Lottie as...?"

"She's our order's Rotainmos. Don't get me wrong; we were thrilled when our elder proclaimed this at her birth, but I'm afraid that some of her religious obligations got in the way of her elementary schooling," the Golem's mother explained with a smile.

This was quite a bit to take in.

"So Lottie is... some sort of icon?" the Incubus asked, scratching the back of his head.

Mr. Deyeyr waved his hand.

"Yes and no. The position is nowhere near as lauded as it used to be, and these days Charlotte has many freedoms that her previous selves didn't, but there are still some duties that the Rotainmos must adhere too, even at the cost of her educations."

"Previous... selves...?"

"Indeed. After all, the Rotainmos is none other than the reincarnated form of the Sandlady herself! We knew from the moment we saw Lottie's markings!"

Cobalt frowned as he pictured the Golem's face. True enough, she bore quite a few vitiligo-like blotches on her body, but never did he imagine that this designated her as the second coming of a religious icon.

He had read about the Sandlady before. Supposedly she was a mythic figure in ancient Golem folklore; a kind of matriarch for all their people who transcended her mortal body and became one with the great shared unconsciousness, becoming a warden of dreams and protector against nightmares.

"Charlotte spent much of her childhood meditating, you see. And with our monastery's remote locations, any time she wasn't in the transept, she was often out helping tend to the cattle."

Mr. Deyeyr took a deep breath.

"Traditionally, the Rotainmos stays in the monastery their whole life, but when Charlotte told us that she wanted to go to school, well... we couldn't deny our little girl that, not after all she's done for us. If anybody is to blame for her academic shortcomings, it is not Charlotte herself, but the circumstances of her birth," the Golem sighed.

She bowed her head, prompting her husband to do the same.

"For that, we humbly apologise."

Cobalt waved his hands frantically.

"No, no, it's alright! Your faith is important to you, I understand completely! I- I'm from Phrodival, myself, so I get what it's like!"

Their eyes widened.

"You're a Fesserite, Mr. Traya?"

"W- Well, not really. It's not so much a faith as it is... well... an ancestral thing, I suppose? Lady Fesser has never really been a huge part of my life, but I suppose I'm still thankful to her..."

Clearing his throat, the Incubus shook his head and scrambled for Lottie's files. Growing up in the reclusive Succubus town of Phrodival had its own quirks, so he could hardly blame the Deyeyrs for feeling as though they needed to apologise for their faith. Once you leave the Hellish backwaters, you begin to realise just how reclusive your life had been up until that point, and it can come as quite the shock.

The fact that Lottie had adjusted so well to life in Brimstone after one short year was honestly inspiring. When Cobalt's family first moved away from their hometown, it took the Incubus ages to get used to life in a modern town.

"I suppose I'll start with just how she's been, then. You know, despite what you've said, Lottie has shown almost no signs of maladjustment. In fact, she's settled in so well that I honestly didn't even know she was any kind of religious icon," he laughed, smiling nervously as he groped around for her behavioral reports.

"Yes, well, Charlotte's always been remarkably outgoing. Every chance she got, she'd head down into Slomba and talk the ear off anybody who would listen to her. According to our records, she's quite the detachment from her previous selves!" her mother replied, suppressing a chuckle.

"And the rest of the Sect is okay with their Rotainmos living away from your monastary?"

"Oh but of course! While Charlotte may be a reincarnation of the Sandlady in the flesh, she is always there to guide us in our dreams back home. In fact, sometimes our friends say she tells them all about this school whenever they meditate!"

"R- Really?"

Mr. Deyeyr grinned as he nodded enthusiastically.

"Aye! She often speaks of a stark campus and a sea of many faces, of friends big and small, and even of a most peculiar gentleman bathed in azure hues," he stated with a wink.

Cobalt nearly dropped his papers. Could Lottie actually do that, or was this merely a fabrication of the Sunmos monks' unconscious minds?

He shook his head. It was probably best not worth thinking about.

"Well, in regards to Lottie's shortcomings, I was thinking of having her attend some one-to-one resource classes, just to help her get a grasp of the basics. Her eagerness to learn is definitely there, I think she just needs some help with comprehension," the Incubus explained, flicking through her file.

"I think that would be best. After all, she's definitely taken a liking to you, Mr. Traya. She said you're one of her favourite people, right after that Quinn girl."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Quinn?"

"Oho, yes! Always 'Quinn' this and 'Quinn' that! Never once stopped talking about her!" Mr. Deyeyr laughed.

This made Cobalt smile. Not only had Lottie properly settled into a new and confusing environment, but she had even managed to find friends that she could properly rely on.

Now, if only he could convince those friends to pursue their studies seriously, maybe then they'd have a better influence on the Golem.

"In any regard, let's get into the nitty-gritty. First of all, her Language grades..."

-----

"Damn it... 'Always make more than needed'... Should have listened to Mom..."

Cobalt lay slumped in his wheelchair, staring hard at his empty thermos. The PTM - not even halfway finished - had taken a much bigger toll on his than he had expected, and now to top things off, he had run out of tea. He reached over and held it to his lips in a vain attempt to somehow conjure phantom tea from the ether, but he had no such luck. With a sigh, he set it back down on his desk.

There was a knock at the classroom door. At this stage, that sound was going to haunt him in his sleep.

"Come on in!" the Incubus called, wincing as he sat up straight.

The door opened slightly as a dumpy Glutton woman peeked into the room.

"Ah! Guten Abend, Herr Trayer!" she called in a cheery voice, waving enthusiastically.

Cobalt raised an uncertain hand in greeting. Jelli's mother?

"Please excuse Melanie, Mr. Trayer! I'm afraid she's only monolingual!" cried a second voice.

As the Glutton pottered into the classroom, tail wagging happily, another woman stepped in. She was a Fallen, dressed in a long sweater.

Jelli's... mothers?

"It's no problem, don't worry! I take it you're here for Je- Adeline?" he asked, grabbing her file.

The Glutton laughed as she sat down in front of him.

"Keine sorge, Cobalt; Jelli ist ihr bevorzugter Name!" she chuckled.

He didn't have a clue as to what he just said, but he figured that Jelli's nickname was a familial thing, going by her intonations. With a weary smile, the Fallen took a seat next to her wife.

"Sorry, we're a bit muddled up here. Neither of us are Hellborne, so the whole trip was a bit of kerfuffle. Oh, I'm Sheila, by the way. Sheila Pharmine. And this is Melanie," she explained, placing a hand on her spouse's shoulder.

"Mm?" Melanie murmured, glancing up.

"Nicht du, Liebling," the Fallen responded, still looking at Cobalt.

"Aber du hast meinen Namen gesagt?"

The Incubus forced a smile. He just hoped that not too much was going to be lost in translation.

"Well, it's good to meet you both. I'll admit, I've always wanted to go to Germany, but I never really had the time or the money," he said, reaching for Jelli's file.

Sheila nodded.

"I'm glad I made the move myself. Truth be told, I never much enjoyed Britain. Too grey."

Melanie looked back and forth between them, looking rather confused.

"Was hat er gesagt?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sheila quietly shushed her and patted the Glutton's shoulder.

"So how has she been doing? Jelli, I mean?"

"Well, her grades are absolutely stellar. Best in the class, I might add," Cobalt replied, turning Jelli's reports around for her parents to see.

Sheila picked them up and smiled excitedly.

"Perfekte noten," she said, nudging her wife.

"Ich wusste sie kann es schaffen!" Melanie replied excitedly, peering up at the grade reports.

The Fallen handed them to her to read, before she glanced up at Cobalt and leaned forward in her seat.

"How's she doing otherwise?" she asked, lowering her voice.

He swallowed hard.

"You mean...?"

Sheila nodded.

"I don't want to worry Melanie, but I know that Jelli's had some trouble with bullies. It was especially bad last year, and I just want to know if she's doing alright."

The Incubus nodded. It must have been hard, living a whole world away knowing that your daughter was being picked on by most of the school. Cobalt still remembered what Arnn told him on the day he first met her. 'Folks aren't nice to Jelli, and that's just the way it is'. Seeing Magnus Rost treat her like dirt... He felt terrible.

But since Jelli fell under Izzbelle's wing, such incidents of bullying had been reduced to naught. And even if someone still dared to pick on the Glutton, they wouldn't just have her to deal with...

"She's doing much better, don't you worry. Adeline's made some new friends this year, and there's one in particular that's been keeping her safe."

The Fallen's worried frown slowly curled into a smile.

"That would be the Suyas girl, wouldn't it?"

Melanie's ears pricked up, her tail raising with intrigue.

"Suyas? Du meinst Izzbelle Suyas?" she asked, passing the sheets back to Cobalt.

He nodded as he tucked them back into their folder.

"Heh. Ich hoffe Jelli bringt sie eines Tages nach Hause. Ich glaube, sie ist in sie-!"

"Melanie!"

As the German Glutton burst out laughing, Cobalt put on a smile and sat there, quite unsure of what the joke was. Unfortunately, studying Language merely meant learning the common word as well as Tongues. Earth languages were still foreign to him.

"Still giddy from the Jump, I think... But that's good to hear. Know that Jelli's made friends... It sets my mind at ease. Melanie's too."

"Eh?"

"Shh."

It set his own mind at ease too, and Cobalt was glad for it. Those first few weeks after meeting Jelli, he was always worried about how she was doing outside of his classes. But with Karazelle keeping an eye on her and Izzbelle making sure nobody lays a finger on the Glutton, he felt that he no longer needed to fret over her. She certainly seemed to smile more, and with friends like hers, she seemed to be coming out of her shell, even just a little.

With a smile, he reached into Jelli's folder and pulled a handful of notes.

"Well, in any case, I have some commendations from her other teachers that I would like to go through with you..."

------

"Tch... Need to get this cut, and soon..." Cobalt murmured to himself, brushing his overlong hair out of his eyes for what he counted as being the tenth time that evening.

He had managed to suffer through a majority of his students' parents by then, and he felt absolutely exhausted for it. It was just like dealing with his class when they were at their most disagreeable, except they were older and there was twice as many of them.

Two short knocks rang upon the door, spurring him into action. With a sweep of his arm, the Incubus tidied his desk and straightened himself up, purely out of reflex.

"Come in!"

In stepped a pair of Imps, but these were two individuals that Cobalt already recognised. The woman carried a distinctive leather handbag, whilst her husband wore an all-too-familiar brand of flatcap. They still bore a few bandages and bruises since the Autumn Festival, but altogether looked none too worse for wear.

"Susan and Trevor Redtile! I'm glad you two could make it!" he called cheerfully, gesturing to the chairs in front of him.

The both glanced at each other before breaking out into uncertain smiles.

"I see our reputation precedes us," Susan said with a nervous laugh.

"Quinn must've been talking," Trevor responded, folding his arms.

Cobalt bit his tongue. Of course they wouldn't recognise him; as far as the Redtiles went, this was the first time they had ever met.

Before he could put his foot in it any further, the Incubus cleared his throat and retrieved Quinn's bulging file, absolutely stuffed full of detention records and poor behavioral reports. He could only hope they they remained in good humour.

"So... An Incubus, huh? Can't say I'm too familiar," Trevor commented, squinting at the sight of Cobalt's blue skin.

His wife slapped the back of his head.

"Oh, don't mind him. Trev just got his hopes up when he heard Quinn's teacher was a Lust demon."

"I did not!"

Cobalt just kept smiling, as strained as it was. It appeared for the most part that they had no idea who he was, and that sat just fine with him.

With that, he set about doing the usual; giving parents the bad news about their children. Spreading Quinn's files out in front of him, he walked the Redtiles through their daughter's mediocre grades, her disruptive behaviour and her many, many misdemeanors, constantly expecting them to lash out at him at any moment. But surprisingly, Susan and Trevor seemed almost impressed by Quinn's delinquency, nodding approvingly to each other when Cobalt told him of the time she vandalised an entire bathroom by setting off a string of improvised explosives in the pipes.

"It's getting concerning. We don't know where she keeps getting all these fireworks from," the Incubus stated, wiping his brow.

"Oh, she makes them herself," Susan responded in an almost proud tone.

"... I'm sorry?"

"She's a dab hand at the old pyrotechnics, our Quinn. Good to see her pursuing her old hobbies. Tell me, does she still jerry-rig things for fun?"

Cobalt glanced down at one of the incident reports written up by one of the school's caretakers. Supposedly, multiple vehicles had been broken into and stripped for parts all over town, and they all wound up in one of B.I.D.'s underground storage rooms, cobbled together into some sort of souped-up motorcycle engine. The perpetrator was never caught, but Cobalt just knew that it was Quinn Redtile's handiwork.

After all, she had come to him in order to brag about her exploits. It was a good thing too that nobody had tried to turn it on, as she had rigged the thing to explode if someone tried to tamper with it in her absence.

"She... dabbles, I think," he stated, quietly slipping it back into the folder.

Trevor grinned.

"Ladies love someone good with their hands. How's she doing on that front, anyhow?"

"I- I'm sorry?"

"Y'know, with Copper and that."

Cobalt's throat tightened. He distinctly remembered Quinn telling him several times that she was going to tell her parents that 'Copper' had moved away.

"U- Um... Miss Copper? She, uh... She-"

Susan interrupted her husband with a deep sigh.

"Trev, just let it go. Quinn said she moved to Pumice Bay, and neither of them wanted to go long-distance," she said, folding her arms.

"I know, I know, I just liked the girl, is all. Made a good pair."

"Mm, well, let's stop bothering Mr. Trayer with our Quinn's love life, yeah?

Shaking like a spring leaf, Cobalt wiped his brow and fixed them both with what he hoped was the smile of a man didn't nearly just get caught up in a lie.

"I- In that case, um... Shall we talk extracurricular?"

-----

The next individual to darken the doorway of Cobalt's classroom was a rather stern-looking Nymph, dressed in an immaculate suit, complete with a bowtie. His hair and goatee had been slicked with wax, and a pair of dark sunglasses prevented Cobalt from getting a good look at his eyes. Upon stepping into the room, he shut the door with his foot and clasped his hands in front of himself, allowing the Incubus to see the pair of white gloves that he wore.

"Cobalt Trayer?" he asked, standing up straight.

"Um... Yes?"

"My name is Gulliver Terah, butler of the Brode estate. I am here on behalf of Master Charles and Mistress Juliet Brode regarding the academic progress of their daughter, Miss Whitney," he said in a cool, professional voice.

Cobalt frowned. He didn't really intimately know what Whitney's family was like, but like everybody else at the school, he knew that they were very wealthy. Since B.I.D. opened its gates and ceased charging a private tuition fee, it relied on the financial support of many backers from Brimstone and beyond, and none were more influential than Charles Brode, owner and director of the Brode Modelling Agency. He figured that Whitney's parents would lead busy lives, but did they really not have any time to learn how their child was getting on at school...?

"I see. Well, I suppose if you gave me a few days, I could produce some photocopies of her reports and have them sent over. Would that work?" the Incubus asked, resting one hand on the Nymph's file.

Gulliver nodded solemnly.

"That would be satisfactory, Mr. Trayer. There is another issue my employers wish to bring up with you personally," the butler stated, walking towards the desk.

Cobalt cocked his head.

"Personally?"

"Master Charles is not best pleased with your influence on his daughter. He asked me to give you this."

Producing a letter from his suit jacket, Gulliver placed it in front of Cobalt with two fingers. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced up at the unfeeling panes of blackened glass before slitting the top of the envelope and unfolding the page within. It was monogrammed with the Brode family crest, and he could tell just by feeling that the paper it was written on was worth more than his entire salary.

For the attention of Cobalt Atticus Trayer,

Do you have any fucking idea what the Hell you're playing at? I sent Whitney to the Brimstone Institute of Demonics because I was given good reason to believe that it was the best of the best. I sent her there to learn to become the best, not indulge her petty fantasies! Do you know what she's done to herself? Dyed hair, piercings, outrageous clothing... The Brode family name is associated with respect and awe, not whatever the fuck this nonsense is!

That girl is the heiress to one of the most successful modelling agencies this side of the Boiling Sea. How the Hell is she supposed to become successful looking and acting like a clown?! You've filled her head with pathetic delusions, and now she doesn't even have the good sense to listen to me or her mother anymore. I will not stand and watch while some upstart from fuck knows where ruins my daughter's future!

Consider any and all financial support from the Brode family indefinitely withheld. You will not get another red brand from me until you reverse whatever the fuck it is you have done to Whitney, and I expect a letter of apology while you go about it.

Good day to you, sir.

Charles Manderes Brode Esquire

Cobalt sat stock-still, rereading the strongly-worded letter over and over, mouth agape. Blinking a few times, he looked up at Gulliver's unflinching visage, barely able to find the words he was looking for.

"You can't be serious!" the Incubus guttered after a few moments of stunned silence.

The butler pushed his shades up the bridge of his nose with his pinky finger.

"I'm afraid so, sir. Mistress Juliet has declined to offer her opinion on the matter, but I can assure you that she isn't pleased with this sudden change in Miss Whitney's behavior either. From this moment forth, the Brode family will no longer supply this institution with monetary support. I'm sorry."

Gulliver bowed politely and turned sharply on his heel. As he made to leave, however, Cobalt suddenly bared his teeth and banged his fists on his desk. He wasn't one to fall so easily to anger, so why the Hell was his chest feeling so hot?

"No bloody wonder Whitney was pushed to tears! With a father like this, I can hardly blame her!" he growled, feeling his brow furrow.

The Nymph stopped in his tracks.

"... Your opinion has been noted, sir. Good day."

"All I did was let her know it was okay to be herself! Is that such a crime?!"

"... Noted. Good-"

"To Damnation with Mr. Brode then! Tell him where he can stick his brands while you're at it!"

Cobalt suddenly slumped back in his wheelchair, overcome with a sudden feeling of lightheadedness as his anger gradually subsided. He didn't mean to get so heated. It was just that when he thought about how Whitney acted that evening in the bathrooms... How she was feeling...

Surprisingly, Gulliver didn't move. Instead, he sighed deeply and pulled his sunglasses away, still facing the classroom door.

"... I knew Miss Whitney since before she was born, you know. In fact, I was the one who delivered her," he said in a slow voice, sounding much less cold and much more concerned.

He looked down at his finely-polished shoes.

"Taught her how to walk. How to draw. How to play the six string, though she never really got the chance to practice..."

Gulliver shook his head.

"I've been by her side since day one..."

He turned to face the Incubus. His eyes were a brilliant amber, just like Cobalt's.

"... and I have never seen her smile like how she did since coming here." he said, brow creased with worry.

Cobalt shrunk down into his seat, unsure of what to say. The Nymph returned to the desk, looking markedly less stiff than when he had arrived.

"She was... herself. Blue-haired and pierced tongue, that was Whitney Brode. And I have never been prouder of her in all my years of serving her family."

He sat down, hands clasped tightly before him on the desk.

"Charles and Juliet... They're not bad folks. They love their kid like any parent should, and like any parent, they're worried about her future. Charles wants her to join his agency and eventually take over. Juliet wants her to follow the family tradition and become a luxury dressmaker. They're just a little... overzealous," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

The Incubus frowned, feeling an odd kind of kinship with the butler. He knew all too well what the pressures of familial expectation felt like, but Gulliver had the right of it. Charles Brode's harsh words were coming from a place of love.

"Well... what do you want?" he asked, remembering the words he spoke to Whitney herself.

Gulliver smiled sadly.

"I want her to keep on this new path she's made for herself. But all I can do is silently support her..."

With another deep breath, the Nymph sat up straight.

"Which is why I'm going to ask you this, not as a servant of the Brodes, but out of concern for Whitney. Don't stop what you're doing. No amount of money is worth that girl's pain."

Placing his sunglasses back on, Gulliver got to his feet and sighed.

"Thank you, Cobalt, and good luck. You'll make a damn fine mark on this school, I know it."

His pieces said - both professional and personal - Gulliver Terah made his way out of the classroom, resolutely shutting the door behind him. Swallowing hard, Cobalt just looked down at his feet, feeling a maelstrom of conflicting emotions within himself. The school was now going to be perilously underfunded; was that really worth one girl's happiness?

He shook his head. No, it had to be.

Cobalt didn't want to see Whitney cry again. Not for a million brands.

-----

It was over. After many grueling hours, the Parent-Teacher Meeting was finally over. Taking a deep breath, Cobalt stuffed his students' folders into a cabinet beneath his desk and laid his head down upon its soothingly cool surface. His mind was abuzz with all sorts of things, and few of them even had anything to do with education.

Izzbelle's mother carried the air of a warlord and spoke as though she knew of Incubi.

Lottie was supposedly the reincarnation of a centuries-old Golem deity.

Jelli's mother Sheila still worried about bullies.

Trevor and Susan were still under the impression that a Succubus named Copper existed.

And Whitney's father had just pulled all financial support from the school.

"What a day..." he groaned into the desk, feeling as though his entire body had been completely sapped of strength.

"The day isn't over yet, boy," a commanding voice suddenly called from the front of the room.

If Cobalt's scream had been just a few pitches higher, it almost would have shattered the windows and disturbed dogs from all over Brimstone. Tearing his head off the desk, he threw all his weight into the back of his wheelchair, nearly tipping the whole thing over and upending everything in his immediate vicinity.

"M- M- Mistress Viola! I- I didn't hear you come in!" he cried, frantically trying to tidy his desk.

The Headmistress stood by the door, arms folded and eyebrow raised in an unimpressed arch. She cut an imposing figure in her cloak as per usual; if Cobalt was able to feel his legs properly, they would have been something akin to gelatin.

His heart began to hammer. Did she know about Charles Brode...?!

"You weren't exactly alert," she replied sharply, folding her arms.

"I- I'm sorry, I was just resting after all the, um... the meetings..."

With a roll of her eyes, Mistress Viola marched up the centre of the classroom and sat down in front of the teacher's desk, arms folded and legs crossed. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"You survived a fall off a building, and yet you cannot handle a few parent-teacher interactions? Did you lose your teacher's sensibility as well as your ability to walk, boy?"

"N- No! Not at all, miss!"

"Then start the damn meeting already. I have places to be."

Cobalt stared at her blankly.

"I- I'm sorry?" he whimpered, unable to process the situation.

Her brow furrowed, causing him to flinch.

"I said to start the meeting. You're wasting time."

"B- But..."

With a displeased growl, Mistress Viola stood up and circled behind the desk. Despite Cobalt's stammered protests, she pulled his wheelchair away and pulled open the desk cabinet. Running a sharp finger across the student files, she finally pulled out the one she was looking for and thrust it into the Incubus' arms.

"There. I'll do no more for you, boy," she stated, returning to her seat.

Shaking with fear, confusion and sheer bewilderment, Cobalt nervously wheeled himself back behind the desk and pulled out a document with a shaking hand. His eyes widened as he read the name stamped across the top.

Karazelle Terna

Nigh-on paralysed, he slowly craned his neck and gazed at the Headmistress' cutting visage.

"V- Viola Terna..." he breathed, feeling for all the world like his stomach was being punched in slow motion.

"That is indeed my name. Get on with it."

He raised a hand and flicked through Karazelle's reports with shivering fingers.

"Sh- She's your daughter...?"

"Oh, enough of this. I'll review it myself."

Sweeping all over her reports back into the folder, Karazelle's mother bundled it up into her arms and fixed Cobalt with a disappointed glare.

"Pull yourself together Trayer. If a simple PTM was enough to cripple you, then you'll soon find yourself without a place at this school," she warned, before marching off towards the door.

He heard her shoes clack away into nothingness. He heard her harrumph beneath her breath as she walked. He heard the door shut behind her.

But Cobalt didn't react. His mind was going over the dozens upon dozens of times Karazelle had broken into his room. How she playfully toyed with him both inside the classroom and out. How she sometimes snuck into his futon as he slept. How she flirted, joked and laughed with him.

Cobalt laid his head down on his desk.

He took a deep breath.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH~!"