Reports.  They were hardly Ozpin's favorite part of the day -in fact, they lay fairly close to the opposite end of the spectrum- but, like most bureaucracy, they were a necessary evil.  These reports, however, did hold a speck of interest for Beacon's headmaster.  Perhaps it had been a mistake to allow first-years to perform such non-standard missions, but personally Ozpin thought that remarkable situations afforded remarkable growth.  Still...a disturbing amount of these missions had involved the White Fang, in one way or another.  Had the terrorist group truly become such a dominant and wide-spread force that they more often than not worked their way into whatever jobs the school could find?  It was an alarming prospect.  A brutal attack on a peaceful protest, barely averted.  A potentially disastrous procedure, confiscated and prevented.  Worst of all, a bloody and thoughtless massacre that left a permanent wound in team MODA.  Yes, Ozpin decided: the missions would need to be scaled back.  More analysis of the situation at hand, more Grimm fighting in general, and fewer human conflicts.  Aurellius, for instance, would have to be transferred; lucky that a suitable replacement was on hand to fill his spot in MODA.

Ozpin breathed a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, allowing him a moment's respite.  What was he world coming to?  Did the Kingdoms really need the Grimm to be torn apart?  Or would they do it to themselves, deterioration over time, a slow poison they absently injected into themselves?

[center]-=-=-[/center]

Two days passed.  For some, it was a time of celebration, gaming, talking, and getting to know one another.  For others it was a hurtful healing procedure of the body, and still others suffered their less visible wounds, those on the mind, untreated.  Over the intercom, Ozpin had made it clear that if it was necessary to bring in a psychological therapist, the students should let him know.  Regardless of how it was spent, Beacon's was an interesting first weekend, but it had yet to fully conclude.

The late afternoon sun smiled down on the earth, seldom obscured by the few wandering clouds.   Tonight, the students would be allowed to 'hit the town', as the saying went.  Right now, most were in their rooms, but that would soon change.  The city beneath the clifftop academy would soon find itself stuffed wih students, eager to watch movies, visit arcades, go shopping, or simply hang out and enjoy the dual pleasures of life and youth whilst they were still afforded to them.

It promised to be an auspicious evening.  With classes looming on the morrow, every thought was to make these hours count.