The sound of quietly bubbling water fills the kitchen. From the living room, a news anchor murmurs quietly on the TV  - Faust is sitting on the couch, while Caius is standing in front of the stove, portioning out dried pasta.

“What’s with this situation?” Faust says abruptly, looking around from the TV, where the news anchor is detailing a recent robbery from the south side of the city. “If you’re feeling well enough to do chores, you should go back to your own place. Let me sleep in my own bed.”

“I told you,” Caius says, not raising his eyes from the stove, pouring the pasta into the water. “I’m not going to leave until you say you’ll teach me how to fight vampires.”

Faust rolls his eyes.

“The next semester is coming up soon.” He points out. “You should be preparing for your new graduate school life, not making dinner in my kitchen.”

“I am.” Caius says, stirring the pot. “Actually, I just submitted a request to change my master’s designation.”

Faust frowns.

“What?” He says, but before he can continue, his phone buzzes on the couch next to him. He glances at the screen - it’s the dean of the Gallus University history department. As it happens, the dean is close to Caius.

With a suspicious twitch of his eyebrow, he picks it up.

“Hello?” He says.

Caius keeps cooking in the kitchen, giving no indication he’s listening in on the call.

“Faust,” the dean says, in a long-suffering tone. “I know you don’t take graduate students.”

Faust shoots an incredulous look at Caius’s back, his phone still pressed to his ear.

“I don’t, Dean.” He says.

“Do you know what this is about?” The dean says. He sounds like he’s frowning. “Caius Rex just sent me a request asking me to allow him to change his master’s designation to doing a thesis under your supervision. He says he’s going to leave the college if it’s not approved.”

“Is that so.” Faust replies, deadpan.

The dean sighs.

“It’s an unreasonable request,” he says, “but Caius is a valuable student, and it’s not unheard of to make this kind of switch. Even though I know you’re against it, I hope you’ll accept for the sake of the university…”

“I’ll think about it.” Faust exhales.

The dean hangs up. Caius doesn’t look around to the living room.

“Who was that on the phone?” Caius asks.

Faust scowls at him.

“You know full well who it was,” he scoffs, tossing his phone back onto the couch. It bounces dully off the cushion and settles.

Caius smiles into the stovetop.

“Looking forward to working with you,” he says, in a tone of satisfied finality.