Ash was gone when Cas woke up again, and he assumed that he went to the cafeteria for breakfast. This school is huge, he'd probably only see him in the bedroom. That's fine. Stuck-up rich kids aren't Cas' speed.

Cas knocks.

"Come in," is the muffled reply.

The office is spacious and reminds Cas of a library. Bookshelves covering every wall and stacking high on and around Headmaster Holme's desk. Headmaster Holme himself isn't what he had imagined: a hundred years old, white beard, long robes.

You know, the whole shebang.

Reality is, Headmaster Holme is only about a decade older than Aaron. His finely styled suit is a dark blue and his lightly silvered hair is combed and styled not different than a model.

"You must be Caspian. Take a seat. There's much to discuss. My assistant should be here shortly; he was getting us coffee."

Cas' ears perk at the mention of coffee. It's been almost forty-eight hours since he had a decent cup of coffee.

"You've read our handbook, right? Know our rules and expectations?"

"Uh, yeah. I've read them."

Holme nods, thoughtfully. "Good. Then all of the boring stuff is out of the way."

At that moment, Aaron walks in with a drink carrier and three coffee-to-go cups inside. Just seeing that there makes Cas' mouth go dry. He gulps.

Aaron gives Cas that smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "Good morning, Caspian. Did you sleep well?"

Cas opens his mouth to retort of the demon cat thing in his room and beady little eyes that remind him vividly of fiery furnaces of death, but then he realizes that the only reason that Lylir is even there is that they don't know about it. Cas didn't want to start a war with his roommate before the twenty-four-hour mark passes.

Cas has doubt Ash wouldn't eat him alive if he did.

"I slept fine," he shrugs to feign casualness.

Aaron hands one of the cups to Holme and sets the second on the corner of the desk closest to him. Aaron hands the third to Cas, "I didn't know how you liked your coffee, so I only added a little creamer. I brought extra packets if you want to add some."

Cas takes a sip, and the bitter deliciousness attacks his tongue. It's a little weak, but Cas has built a tolerance to coffee; all coffee made from normal people is weak.

"Is it good?" Aaron asks, and if his face wasn't depicting the exact opposite, Cas would think he cares.

Instead of confessing his addiction to the dark liquid, Cas smiles politely and nods. He takes another sip.

Holme clears his throat and repositions himself in his chair. He looks over the piece of paper in his hand. "Okay, so just a few confirmation questions. Name?"

"Caspian Ayrell."

"Middle initial?"

"B."

"Birthday?"

"February eighth."

Holme nods again, and now Cas doesn't know if Holme does it approvingly or if he just likes nodding.

He sets the paper down and analyzes the kid in front of him, "Well, you do seem like the right kid. If you aren't, ah well. Not my problem."

"Actually, Sir," Aaron interjects, "it would be-"

"Not my problem." Holme leans forward and clasps his hands on his desk, "Do you know why we sent you here, Mr. Ayrell?"

"Uh..." Cas takes a drink of his coffee so his lack of answer won't be so obvious. It can't be because of his grades. They were a high average-Bs, mostly, and it can't be because he's such a model student.

As mentioned before, he's been in his fair share of fistfights. If his father taught him anything, it's kill or be killed, and Cas might not know where his place is in life, but he'll bloody well find out before he's offed by hooligans that don't know what their mama taught them.

He doesn't have a well-known talent. Not like Remy.

"It's because of your Ability Test scores from last year," Holme says, sliding a piece of paper across the desk for Cas to see.

Cas has never looked at his scores from his Ability Test. Both of his biological parents were Hollow (the term used for people born without an Ability). Cas knew he had an Ability, but he knew that, with two Hollow parents, his scores can't be high.

Yet, as he looked at his score, he saw that the little line representing his puny existence on the grand scale of humanity, he was in the blue. Not the red, or the orange, or yellow, or even green. Blue. Cas would be gaping like a fish, if not the fact that he just took another drink.

"Now, don't look too shocked," reasons Holme. "A good eighty percent of this school is in the blue zone, and although having an Ability as an offspring of not one, but two Hollows is rare, it isn't unheard of. If those aren't the reasons you're here, do you have any implication what is?"

Cas racks his brain for any solid reasoning. He comes up with nothing except for all this to be a joke.

He's still waiting for the punchline.

Holme sighs and leans back, "I'll spell it out for you, Kid. It's because of what your Ability is. Mind manipulation? Now, that's rare."

Cas looks at him skeptically, "I'm here because I can trick people and get away with things?" Cas hates his mind manipulation. He always feels guilty using it, especially on people he likes or cares about. And yet, if he doesn't use it regularly, there's a good chance the manipulation will attack from the inside, and he'll go insane.

There are many things Cas hates about himself, but the fact that he violates other people's thoughts and beliefs for his benefit--he hates the most.

And now they're saying that it's the part that makes him the most valuable?

He might vomit.

"I think with the highest education, and the right practice, you can be one of the most powerful men in the Guild. Better yet, maybe even a general."