[center][h2][color=39b54a]Jeremy Arthur Velera[/color][/h2][/center]

[center][color=39b54a]Physical status: Hand finally under control.
Mental status: Focused. [/color][/center]

Well that was a relief; the man, Fredrick Hughes he called himself, had a sense of humour and was willingly talking to Jeremy in a calm and friendly manner. He seemed to have left Jeremy's earlier request for investigating the scene of death and happily agreed to accompany him to where they both were going. Well, where Fredrick was going; Jeremy had no business in visiting Miskatonic, yet his macabre curiosity was pushing him to continue in his lie. 

Perhaps he was trying to forget the uneasy truth August Dupin had told him, or maybe his troubling dream which he for now actually had forgotten about? 

[color=39b54a]"Then we're in the same boat then, better to be lost together rather than alone. Now, after you Sir."[/color] Jeremy said to Fredrick with a more geniune smile, letting go of his hand and pointing in the direction they needed to go. Or so Jeremy thought, why else would he be pointing just where he was pointing? Was there some force which guided his hand, or was there a repressed memory which made him react in a similar way as before? Only God knew, for Jeremy certainly didn't. 

[hr][hr]

The corridor standing in front of Jeremy and Fredrick was as empty and cold as Jeremy supposed whoever had jumped to his untimely death was by now, no blood left running through his veins to make his body function. He had seen it happen before, fellow soldiers dying slowly from losing blood from a piece of shrapnel, cutting into their heart or arteries all while the other men were forced over the top and at the Huns for King and Country. And what were they rewarded with? A shallow grave in Flanders and a "free" Ireland. Was it strange that Jeremy fought against said King and Country? 

Jeremy's thought were dragged back to the corridor where Fredrick was starting to walk down the empty corridor, and Jeremy followed closely by him. Several doors lined the walls at either side, but they kept walking. A corner turned on to the right further down. 

[color=39b54a]"So what did you say your business was here at Miskatonic?"[/color] Jeremy was making idle conversation with Fredrick, feeling his guard let down now that nothing strange seemed to be happening here. It was perhaps a tad odd that the school was as empty as it now was, but that could be explained quite easily. 

The man Jeremy saw standing at the very end of the corridor further down on the other hand, seemed odd. Especially as he shot back from the office door knocking into his face. Jeremy froze, his hand held out to stop Fredrick from moving. 

[color=39b54a]"I am no academician, but that lad there ain't no professor..."[/color]