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With Clarissa cruelly snatching her hands back, Jorah was left to cross his arms over his chest, smirking to himself as she admonished him for his ‘impropriety’. Come on, if anything she should count herself lucky - he was the House Leader! Surely there’d be no shortage of girls fighting tooth and nail for a place on his arm. Actually, that was a pretty nice perk. Maybe this whole “leadership” business wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

In typical Clarissa fashion, she delivered a fine, slightly self-deprecating speech before finally giving Jorah the answer he was looking for: a yes! Thank the Goddess, he sincerely doubted he’d be able to handle all this new responsibility on his own. Grin returning in full, Jorah threw his arms around Clarissa’s waist and hoisted her up off her feet into a crushing hug, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a schoolboy.

[color=FFAB66]“Thank you thank you thank you!”[/color] he exclaimed, giving Clarissa a spin before finally putting her back down with a grateful kiss on the forehead. [color=FFAB66]“You’re the Goddess’ personal gift to me, I swear.”[/color]

[color=FFAB66]“But I must admit, you wound me,”[/color] he added, stepping back and clapping a theatrical hand over his heart. [color=FFAB66][i]“‘False assumptions’?[/i] It pains me to hear you so ashamed of our love.”[/color] His sad face lasted approximately two seconds before he burst out in a fit of giggles, shaking his head. 

[color=FFAB66]“Anyway, don’t you be worrying about me,”[/color] he insisted. [color=FFAB66]“Or, well, focus your worrying on my [i]job[/i], I suppose. I’ll figure something out.”[/color] Truth be told, he hadn’t considered how he’d make up for Delia’s absence - forethought wasn’t his strong suit, after all. But he wasn’t worried; Delia was the person he went to when the world’s feelings got a bit too loud, sure, but how taxing would a monastery really be? Garreg Mach was busy, sure, but it was nowhere near as dense as the dockyards of Derdriu, and he’d chew off his own leg just to hobble down to his favourite seaside taverns and soak up every spare moment he could find. He’d miss Delia, but he’d be [i]fine.[/i] 

He shrugged, shooting Clarissa a smile. [color=FFAB66]“And even if I don’t, I think ‘paranoid drunkard’ looks good on me.”[/color] 

Before any more nonsense could fall out of his mouth, the courtyard was permeated by yet another [i]crack[/i], Professor Euphemia’s rod having apparently struck metal this time. Jorah’s head whipped toward the sound, and he watched the conflict between the professors unfold for a moment, amusement written all over his face. Man, that Euphemia really had some stamina! There must have been some history between her and that armoured professor to whip her up into such a frenzy. If this sort of rivalry was going to continue, Jorah would have to make sure he had front row seats to the show. 

Speaking of which…

[color=FFAB66]“Now seems like a good time to figure out exactly what you’ll be helping me with,”[/color] he told Clarissa, flashing her a troublemaking grin before setting off toward the commotion.

At the risk of catching a wayward swing, Jorah walked up behind Professor Euphemia. He was momentarily shocked by the potency of her emotional signature - Cichol's teeth, the really [i]was[/i] angry - but recovered quickly, deciding to ignore her aura's warning and tap her on the shoulder. With his best sultry tone (and bracing for a whack with that stick) he asked, [color=FFAB66]“Is that how you treat [i]everyone[/i] who misbehaves, Professor?”[/color]

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