Chapter Text
Every year, during the first week of the academic year, Professor Ferra Agrios suspected Professor Ozpin went entirely without sleep. She already knew he regularly went with less sleep than was wise or healthy, but in that first week she considered it nearly negligible.
She understood why he did it; the pouring in of hundreds of new students meant the annual storm of enrollment issues, last second course changes, and the first year initiations, which meant the organization of teams. It was more work than one man should be able to withstand - unless he was willing to part with the need for sleep and spare all hours to work.
Agrios hated the organization of teams most of all. Ozpin insisted on naming them all personally, miles of student names reduced to four-letter acronyms. The headmaster's computer system took the first steps in team names, generating suggestions that Ozpin rarely accepted, opting instead - to Agrios' great annoyance - to create his own. If Ozpin was any other man, she would accuse him of vanity, as though he were proudly signing his name on each team Beacon produced; in truth, she knew the reasons for his care were more personal. She knew Ozpin was familiarizing himself with every student he accepted into his school, weighing the wisdom and potential of each team leader.
There was a heavy responsibility in each name he gave.
For these reasons Agrios kept her disapproval to herself; she was in an incessant flux of admiration for Ozpin's ethics and exasperation at his utter lack of self-care. She often thought, in that first week of the fall semester, that if he didn't kill himself that she would be inclined to do it for him. That was the mark of an excellent assistant.
On the Thursday of the first week, she sat across from Ozpin's desk, her scroll sifting through the headmaster's team names for approval - not that Ozpin required it, but at times the headmaster overlooked names that might have unwanted double-meanings.
"Team SAFR," she said, breaking the silence between the headmaster's ticking ceiling. "Is that pronounced 'sapphire' or 'saffron'?"
"Saffron," Ozpin replied, his eyes not moving from his monitors. "We had a team named after sapphire six years ago."
"Ah, yes, I remember. But this makes Sunny the team leader."
"So it does."
"Is that...your final decision?" Agrios restrained herself from asking whether it was a wise decision; she rarely saw Ozpin's demeanor turn cold, but she knew how strongly he preferred his decisions respected.
Despite her question's revision, the light from the monitors glinted on Ozpin's glasses as he turned his head toward her.
"Do you have an objection, Ferra?"
"Only a concern, sir. Sunny is a charming girl, but she seems...flighty. Asbel Brick seems the natural leader in the group."
The headmaster chuckled softly. "You're being polite," he said. "Miss Declan lacks a strong sense of focus. At best she may be called flighty; at worst, her inattention to the entirely of a battlefield could see her or one of her teammates dead. Her role as team leader will force her improvement. Her team will see to that."
"Force," Agrios repeated wearily.
"Yes," Ozpin said, the word a smile.
"Then I suppose I have no other edits to make on this batch of team names."
"Allow me to send the next twenty-five," Ozpin said.
Agrios sighed involuntarily. "It's nearly eight o'clock."
"So it is." Ozpin's tone, so very slightly slipped, indicated he knew the direction of this shift in the conversation.
Agrios recognized the irritation and cut through the polite speech she had rehearsed. "At the risk of sounding like your mother, sir, when did you last eat?"
Ozpin paused, his hand hovering over a screen of student names and photos. "Is that relevant at this very moment, Ferra?"
"That's a deflection and you perfectly well know it," Agrios snapped. "I have more than enough work to do without being your babysitter. I know you're hardly sleeping enough for it to matter, unless dozing off in meetings is your idea of a good night's rest. And how many cups of coffee does that one make today?"
Ozpin met her eyes and took a sip from his raised mug - spiteful, petulant old man. "It is neither my first nor my last," he said, his voice even. "If you don't wish to be my babysitter, I would suggest you have the remainder of the evening off and try to relax."
Agrios felt the insult deeply, her semblance waking abruptly. "And leave you to work alone all night?" she demanded. Her vision flashed, suddenly gold-tinged.
Ozpin's mug broke free from his fingers and slammed on the desk, black coffee splashing over the glass top.
"Ferra!" He stood immediately, avoiding the waves that came in his direction. A black handkerchief made an appearance to wipe up the mess, but Agrios kept the mug under her control.
"Ferra," Ozpin said, when the cup refused to yield to his grip. "Will you please restore natural gravity to my mug?"
She did so without warning. The mug shot upwards, the remaining liquid splattering over Ozpin's hand. She saw him close his eyes against the obvious irritation she knew she had caused.
"Good night, Ferra," he said quietly, wiping his hands on his handkerchief.
Professor Agrios understood the abrupt dismissal; she had certainly earned it and she only cared in regards to leaving Ozpin alone. His tone was neutral but she could hear the unspoken temper behind it. She sighed, her weariness creeping over her. "Good night, sir," she said, picking up her scroll and heading to the elevator, the doors opening at her approach.
"There's a faculty meeting tomorrow morning at nine," she said, holding the door. “In the Green Room.”
"Understood."
She hesitated a moment more in the bright lights of the elevator. "Do take care of yourself, sir." Without waiting for a response she knew would not come, she allowed the doors to close.
Qrow watched silently above from his favorite perch. Throughout the week he had watched the headmaster do nothing more than wake from a nap on his desk, down a pot of coffee, attend a meeting, drink more coffee, and attend to the everlasting list of names.
***
Ozpin didn’t arrange for Qrow to continue his etiquette lessons for two weeks after the start of the term.
It was like Qrow wanted to begin them again. Life was better swearing and stealing liquor from Vale’s corner stores with Tai and shrugging off the use of utensils.
Still. Qrow worried – no, he wasn’t worried. Qrow wondered just how busy Ozpin was.
It didn’t take long to find out. A few days spent outside the clock tower window, and Qrow could do the math.
The headmaster didn’t know the meaning of the word sleep. And it was obviously having negative side effects. Ozpin had become irritable (which given the student's track record was something he could recognize much faster than any other). He had also somehow mismatched himself. The carefully matched greens somehow in wrong places. Socks inside out. Scarf askew. Hair –
Well. His hair was always like that.
For a man so prideful in his appearance, this was an abrupt change. Not to mention the stolen naps at his desk, so restless in nature. The man's breathing pattern alone sounded like a struggle for life in the grips of death. If Ozpin didn’t get some decent sleep tonight, Qrow wondered if the man might never wake.
He’d seen this before – a man work himself to death. Some overeager new guard trying to impress Raven back at home.
“If you’re interested, prove you’re worthy,” she’d taunted.
Not that anyone aside from Qrow would know he stood a snowflake’s chance in hell.
His sister didn’t give a shit about that stuff.
Everything was the “greater good.” Qrow pitied any man stupid enough to slow her down or get in her way.
Dumb bastard stayed up for five days straight before his heart gave out during a night shift.
She was only toying with him anyway, but man was she pissed when Qrow’s semblance kicked in and the tribe was spotted by a band of bounty hunters.
If he didn’t die, they could’ve… well. Doesn’t matter now…
And so he witnessed the same blind devotion to an irrational end beneath him.
With a huff of disapproval and a decision made, Qrow waited for the man to refill his coffee mug, biding his time. It only took fifteen minutes for Ozpin’s scroll to ping, the headmaster sighing and rising from his chair, his movements uneven now that he presumed he had no witnesses.
Another moment, and the elevator doors closed, leaving Qrow alone amongst the gears.
The bird swooped down and dropped four small sleeping pills from his beak into the man's drink. He knew the bottle said one is the recommended dose, but given that Ozpin had been going through two... no three? pots of coffee a day, Qrow figured he could use the extra push.
Watching the pills dissolve, he only hoped Ozpin was too exhausted and the coffee too strong for him to notice the bitter taste. Soft flutters of wings had Qrow safe in his hiding place to await his professor's gaunt return.
***
Ozpin was fully aware of the state of his health - or rather, the declining state of it. Ferra was right, of course, but his mental to-do list was still unacceptably long. The team naming ceremony was Friday afternoon and he still had a dozen names to finalize, now without Professor Agrios' assistance. He sat down to a fresh cup of coffee, his soiled handkerchief pushed aside until he could be bothered to fetch a clean one.
His body submitted to the very familiar form of his chair, his vision a touch blurry until he shook sleep further away. Everything hurt in some manner or another; his eyes, strained by the light of his monitors, his back and shoulders aching despite the custom shape of his chair, his head pounding from either too much coffee or not enough. His coffee even now betrayed him, grown bitter from dulled senses. That, he thought, made him the saddest of all. One more day and he could lessen this furious pace.
But today was not that day.
A quiet hour passed in productivity, the last of the teams christened and sent off to Ferra, who would rise early to check the lists she forbade him from making but knew he would regardless. Ozpin nearly felt guilty about causing her to lose her temper; his exhaustion did not allow him to remain angry with her for long.
Speaking of exhaustion - Ozpin felt the slowing of his mind as the evening dragged on, the words on his screens growing more and more unfocused despite the attempts to rouse his attention back. His head felt unnaturally heavy on his shoulders. He took off his glasses to rub weary eyes; instantly the darkness behind his lids seduced him, his consciousness dropping like a weight in his mind.
He sat back quickly, feeling the room spin with the movement. For an alarmed moment he wondered if perhaps he was working himself to the point of illness. He reached for his scroll but refrained from texting Professor Agrios; his ever-present pride restrained the action until his hand was entirely forced. He reached for his coffee to ward off this sudden surge of sleepiness.
His eyes fell upon the black feather immediately. It rested just steps away from the desk. From Ozpin's coffee.
Qrow Branwen.
Ozpin rose from his seat, but the care in the motion did little to keep the office from undulating like waves around him. He seized the back of his chair to steady himself. He knew that Qrow must be near or even still within the office, but Ozpin acknowledged the effects of whatever Qrow had drugged him with were dizzying enough without attempting to search the dark ceiling for a black bird. He cursed internally, but did the only thing he could. He reached for the keypad and shakily entered in the code to his bedroom.
Sleep was an all-encompassing desire now. His cane carried him to the opposite side of the office and he stumbled in the darkness to find his bed. He could not find the energy to even close the door. The cane slipped from his fingers somewhere in the darkness and he left it, reaching the edge of the bed and collapsing atop it. He was asleep even before he could properly decide whether to curse Qrow Branwen's wild audacity or genuinely thank him for it.
***
With temptation beckoning Qrow, he flew down to the dark entrance to Ozpin's private quarters. Transforming to his human form, the student carefully searched the doorway, then room for traps. Stealth had, thankfully, always come naturally to Qrow. Sober at any rate - which he was at the moment.
Silently the boy approached his headmaster. Peering down, he took notice the man was still wearing his glasses. Carefully - and he didn't care if it took fifteen minutes to be careful - Qrow removed Ozpin's glasses and placed them on the nightstand next to the bed.
He watched the deep rise and fall of the chest, the heavy weight of the sleeping pills somehow adding gravity to the man's body. Full lips no longer taut in distress, the boy watched in a moment of pride as they relaxed for the first time in a week. Satisfied the side effects were those of someone passed out in a near coma and not in danger of death or waking, Qrow shifted Ozpin until he was completely on the bed.
A hesitant hand reached for the scarf before removing it as well as the shoes tightly strapped to the professor's feet.
Satisfied the man would not overheat or strangle himself in his sleep, Qrow glanced around the room. How he wished to explore...but he would be murdered on the spot if he left any evidence.
Qrow’s chest matched Ozpin’s heavy fall in a regretful sigh, the boy exiting the room and punching the lock closed before he could further tempt himself. He needed to return to his room before the headmaster woke up. Ozpin was going to be furious enough if he found out Qrow had anything to do with this. He just prayed the man thought he removed his own glasses, scarf, and shoes in his foggy, heavily medicated state.
With Qrow’s luck, he had probably just performed a suicide mission.
***
Ozpin woke heavily - that is how he would describe it. The heaviness of deep sleep extended to every sense, his limbs stiff from apathy, his vision blurring slowly into focus as he struggled to lift his head from his pillow.
It was morning. Or daylight, in any case. Ozpin could remember almost nothing of the night before. He recalled Ferra leaving the office in some manner of annoyance. He languidly wondered why. He also wondered what day it was, so foggy were his thoughts. For seemed a long time he simply lay where he was, staring at the movement of his ceiling.
A soft buzz - Ozpin automatically reached in his coat pocket for his scroll, his thoughts absently noting that he was still dressed. He glanced at the name on the scroll as he answered.
"Good morning, Ferra," he said, his voice thick with sleep.
"Morning? Morning?" came the reply, the tone one of carefully controlled rage. "IT. IS. NOON."
Ozpin sat upright immediately, the room threatening to move with him. He looked at his watch, but the gears had paused just past midnight, neglected their usual morning winding.
"I've been calling you for HOURS. You didn't answer the elevator buzz. I thought you had DIED-"
"Ferra, please," Ozpin said, pinching the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of his memories seeping in. "There was an incident last night..."
The shrill voice on the other end paused. "What sort of incident?" The anger lessened, tinged now with concern. "Sir, are you all right?"
Ozpin hesitated. He could not possibly tell her the truth, that he suspected having been drugged by her least favorite student who had the secret ability to turn into a bird and the access code to Ozpin's office - willingly offered - that allowed him to do it. There was also the very important matter of the headmaster's pride...
"I may have...fainted last night." He knew admitting as much would give Professor Agrios ammunition against him in the future, but to reveal Qrow would almost certainly lead to an investigation toward him being expelled.
It all sounded like rather a lot of paperwork.
"I'm coming up."
"That isn't necessary," Ozpin said, reaching for his glasses. "I'm quite fine now."
"Sir -"
"You have my word, Ferra. Are the team names finalized?"
"The...the team names? Are you actually asking about work -"
"Ferra. Please."
A resigned, angry snort echoed from the other side. "Yes, they're done."
"Perfect. Thank you. I'll be down in time for the ceremony."
"Can I at least call a doctor?"
Ozpin sighed. "You may. After the ceremony. Although I'm certain there is nothing amiss with me."
"Physically, maybe," cane the muttered response, concern wrapped in insult.
Ozpin smiled into the scroll. "Thank you, Ferra. I'm sure I owe you my life."
"You do, sir. I'll see you at the ceremony."
Ozpin disconnected and put down the scroll, testing his current state. He was drowsy still - lasting effects from the drugs. He could scarcely concentrate on anything beyond the absolute fact that a student had willfully drugged him without consent. He wondered erratically if he even had a rule against such an obvious manner of misbehavior. Not to mention how, by method of deduction, Qrow had entered Ozpin's office without his knowledge and eavesdropped on a conversation - at least one conversation that Ozpin could confirm.
Slowly, slowly, the headmaster's drowsiness began to give way to sheer indignation at his treatment. He reached once more for his scroll. A shower and fresh clothes would have him ready for the afternoon appointment he was about to make. His fingers moved rapidly over his scroll.
"Ferra, please see that Qrow Branwen is sent to my office in the next hour."
"May I ask what it's regarding?"
As the game sat now, the headmaster had several moves he could play. First and foremost he could lay all his information on the table and reveal his knowledge of Qrow's avian form.
Ozpin was certain he did not wish to do so just yet.
Instead, he thought, checking his reflection in the mirror - admittedly less haggard after proper rest - he had a different move to make. He closed the door to his bedroom and took a seat at his desk, coffee in hand (having thoroughly checked that the machine itself was free of tampering). The chess board was set up, waiting for an opponent.
"Oh, he may have some idea."
***
An idea was right, Ferra acknowledged. The student draining to a pasty white when she pulled him aside.
He knew, the teen thought. Somehow. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Drafting his own eulogy in his head along the way, Qrow breathed a heavy sigh as he entered the elevator to the grand office. This private meeting, he decided for once, was one he would rather skip with the headmaster.
Ignorance might be the safest bet, he thought, and so he put on his classic smirk. The ding announcing his arrival somehow oddly resembling a death toll made Qrow’s stomach turn in unease. Bravado secure, the boy waved at the headmaster as he entered. "Hi Professor," his cheery note innocent as ever.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Branwen," Ozpin said. "Please, have a seat. You prefer to play black, do you not?" He picked up a white pawn and moved it two paces forward.
"Your move," the professor said.
The question was no mere question. Qrow recognized that immediately. So either it was a clue, or simply Ozpin distracted in exhaustion.
Only the boy's eyes gave him away - darting first to the chess table, then to Ozpin. Most would write the motion off as information-gathering.
Most would be wrong.
Sitting, Qrow studied the table and made a thoughtful move, uncharacteristically cautiously wise. He did not dare question the color comment, or the sudden desire to challenge the student. Distraction or not, Qrow sensed there was something beneath the surface bubbling.
Ozpin was on the offensive. He wanted Qrow to know it. And he was going to teach the boy some lesson.
"Nice day. Your move," Qrow returned, not yet dropping his cheery tone.
The headmaster made his next move quickly. "How have you been, Mr. Branwen? I regret that I have been unable to resume our private lessons immediately following the start of the year."
“No problem,” Qrow kept his response short. He wasn’t dumb enough to give the man anymore ammunition than he thought he had already.
"I have been rather busy, and I confess it has been interfering with the usual care one should give oneself. Until last night, I don't think I had slept more than an hour or two a day. Professor Agrios has been quite worried about me."
Ozpin paused, considering his next move. "I'm afraid that, in my zeal to see Beacon running as smoothly as possible, I may have been a bit careless. I care very deeply about this school, the students and faculty - so deeply that I have neglecting myself, which I fear means I have been neglecting those who care deeply for me. I think I've been a little selfish to Professor Agrios and anyone else who has spent time worried on my behalf."
The headmaster sighed, sliding a white pawn over the board. "I know that despite not having seen you the last few weeks, Qrow, you have also worried about me. For that lack of perspective, I apologize."
Qrow responded nonchalantly, "It's fine. You've been busy. I'm fine."
Qrow's focus on the game diminished. Rarely had the headmaster been so informal with the student. Never had he admitted a weakness, much less apologized for one.
Nervousness fading to stunned pleasant surprise the boy remained silent in contemplation.
Remembering he was mid game, he mindlessly moved a black piece, thankful he had planned the move minutes before.
Finally the student spoke, "Thanks."
He took a chance and looked the professor over - noting the man looked much healthier than the night before.
"Are you feeling better?" he added. Ozpin didn’t have time for this chat; Qrow knew, but he still didn’t know if that was to praise or punish.
"Much better, thank you. I believe with another good night's sleep, I may be entirely recovered."
Ozpin took one of Qrow's pawns, his finger lingering on the tip of the bishop.
"What have you been up to in the past week?" the headmaster asked. "Clearly nothing against school rules, because you've avoided being sent up to my office. Or perhaps you've simply gotten better at avoiding being caught."
The student smirked to himself, unable to shield his response.
"I thought I should keep my head down this year for now. Don't need to terrorize the school yet," he flippantly replied, still smirking. "Glad to hear you are feeling better," he added.
Refocusing, Qrow set up a trap to take the bishop the headmaster seemed so fond of.
"Did you call me up here for a few minutes of down time?" the student questioned curiously.
Ozpin slipped his bishop from the impending black threat on the board.
"I suppose you could say that," the professor said. "As it was, I just happened to wake up today thinking of how I missed our little games."
Qrow's hand paused, hovering over his next move. "Me too," he added, attention returned to the game. Thankfully the headmaster seemed to have no ulterior motives other than needing a break - which the student was happy to provide given the man's destructive work habits.
Selectively, he made his next move potentially setting two traps with a strong defense. He had learned during his first year impulsive offense was hardly the way to win a game against the wise professor. Patience was definitely required.
"You've improved," the headmaster said, considering the board approvingly. "Good. I wouldn’t want this to be too easy.”
Ozpin took his time selecting his next move, recognizing the strategy the student was building. Ozpin rarely played an aggressive offense, but today Qrow's behavior was inspiring. His queen made an early appearance with motivated havoc.
"We can resume our lessons next week," the professor said, releasing the queen with some amount of satisfaction. "I'm sure your sense of decorum - tragic as it once was - has suffered in my absence."
The student snorted responding with thick sarcasm, "Yeah, you’re single-handedly responsible for solving my social ineptitude."
Qrow studied the board in response to the invasive queen. He could take her in two if he played it correctly.
"What is on the agenda this year?"
"For your lessons?" The professor said, his eyes roving over the board, unconcerned with the threat to his queen. "Etiquette, of course. Your antagonistic tendencies have been reigned merely to unsubtle sarcasm. There is still much to be done in that department."
“I think my sarcasm is pretty good.”
“So refined, Mr. Branwen.”
“I learned it from you.”
Ozpin took his time again making a move, hiding a smirk by sipping his coffee unhurriedly. "If you manage to avoid being banned a second time from the dance, more advanced lessons. You did express some interest in that at our last...meeting. And should you be interested, I may have the opportunity for some extra credit, but I would require a demonstration of your combat style to determine whether you're fully qualified. We can discuss that later in the year."
Ozpin slid a rook almost lazily across the board.
"Check," he said.
"What?!" Qrow exclaimed incredulously. How had he missed that? Damn it, the queen was bait...
Qrow glared at the chess board. He could not help but make the connection of the queen he had been blinded by last year.
Nevertheless, the boy evaded, if only barely. This year, he would focus on the king - that is after all, how the game is won.
"My sarcasm is staying," he growled. On this, Ozpin would have to work much harder to tone down, the boy was certain.
Qrow cursed slumping back in his chair mulling over the last few minutes leading to his demise.
He’d distracted Qrow. Not only with the queen but -
"What makes you so sure I am going to need the extra credit?" Qrow knew the question was stupid - he himself knew it would likely greatly help his chances of not repeating a year (especially after barely scraping by last semester) - but the boy's pride stood in the way.
"My reason for the offer of extra credit is, admittedly, partially of self-interest. I believe you have a specialized set of skills, Qrow, that would be invaluable to my needs. I was convinced of that much more suddenly that I expected. I'm afraid I can't say more than that until after I've made my decision whether to officially extend the offer."
Ozpin contemplated Qrow's retreating king. "However, the majority of the benefit is for you. This would be no small reward. Barring obvious crimes even I cannot overlook, I could offer you full exemption from expulsion from my school."
The headmaster glanced at his own increasingly exposed king, the result of his aggressive mood. No matter - he was three moves away from checkmate. He slipped his knight into position.
"Check," he said again.
The boy weighed the words as well as his position on the board. He claimed the exposed queen with his rook making his intent to advance on the opposing king evident while narrowly escaping checkmate. Qrow was fairly certain he was about to lose, but he wasn't about to go down without a fight.
He palmed the queen with subconscious aggression before placing it near the edge of his graveyard.
"I couldn't be expelled? That sounds too good to be true. It must be very dangerous..." His tone was calm, steady, weighing the potentials. Crimson eyes darted up to the headmaster's, his new focus obvious. "You wouldn't offer that unless it was something you really needed."
A thoughtful pause as he considered the dangers and smiled at the challenge, "I hope you extend the offer."
"Then prove yourself worth the offer," Ozpin said. He did not mourn his sacrificed queen, instead moving the last piece into place, the familiar elusive bishop caging the black king.
"Dangerous...well." The professor gave a small shrug. "Undoubtedly. I would even go so far as to call it highly unethical to present such an offer to a student. But I lack a Huntsman of equal unique skill, and somehow I don't think you would refuse."
Ozpin sat back, surveying the board. "I'm afraid that's checkmate."
Qrow grinned without regarding the board. 'I don't think you would refuse.'
"You’re right," the boy replied, ambiguous whether the agreement was to the game or refusal, or perhaps both.
Qrow reclined in his chair, eyes ablaze with curiosity. "How do I have to prove myself worthy to you?" the conspicuous tone hid none of the student's excitement.
"Exactly as you are now," Ozpin said. "By simply being yourself. Now," he added, rising from his seat, "if you will excuse me, we both have a ceremony to attend. I do hope you intend on welcoming the new teams introduced today."
He walked Qrow toward the elevator, which obliged by opening at their approach.
"Good afternoon, then. Oh, and Qrow," Ozpin said, the tip of his cane holding the doors from closing, "if you ever drug my coffee again, I'll gladly handwrite the forms for your expulsion myself."
He removed his cane, smiling slightly as the doors slid closed.
Frozen, all blood drained from Qrow's face.
He knew. He knew all along.
And he was going to blackmail Qrow into doing his dirty work in order to stay enrolled.
Shit.
***
Two full days. That is how long Qrow had been contemplating how the hell Ozpin had found out the student had drugged the professor's coffee. And two full days had yielded one result: sorcery.
Seriously. The headmaster seemed to know everything that was going on all the time. Which meant Qrow was in far deeper shit than Ozpin was letting on. Especially if he knew what Qrow did in his spare time...
Maybe his semblance was reading minds; maybe it was an all seeing eye; maybe it was a bunch of horseshit and Qrow just got caught using his gift.
Regardless, it seemed there was a high probability the headmaster knew the boy's semblance and that was the reason Ozpin wanted to use him.
But Qrow would be damned if he was ever going to admit what his specific skill set entailed. Ozpin was going to have to fork over proof of that knowledge first.
Qrow knew it wouldn't be long before he was sent to the headmaster's office, but he was determined to make it at least a week before he was forced into servitude.
His lips tingled under the severity of his groan.
This was going to be a long year.