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[color=5b8a9a]Location:[/color] Mikkail's Sitting Room
[color=5b8a9a]Grimore:[/color] N/A
[color=5b8a9a]Skills:[/color] N/A
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Nicholas wasn't certain what to do with that. He was well aware that the past liked to catch up; it was why they'd moved as much as they did, but he trusted his magic more than everyone in this room. Illusions, unlike people, never failed him because he knew they were lies. They were reliably false. He could certainly do without Mikkail thieving his original tongue, magically or otherwise. The Professor probably thought it would relax him, lower his guard a little, before he slapped him with another exploitive task. Nicholas decided Mikkail was colorful in the same way an animal was - decidedly poisonous. 

Nicholas opted to remain silent and ignore where Mikkail put his book. Instead, he focused on his plans for the greenhouse. He had plenty of little spots to grow things and their journey through China offered him an opportunity to pick up some interesting additions. He'd been particularly interested in astragalus and some of its protective properties in spellwork. Nicholas planned to work it into his illusions to see if it made them harder to dispel. 

Still, even as he let his mind water, the sound of chalk on board drew his attention and he slowly lifted an eyebrow. Although the chalk was writing, it was ignoring whatever nonsense the Professor was uttering and scribbling madness across the board. [color=5b8a9a]“And he's senile.”[/color] Nicholas scoffed under his breath, though the acorn he didn't bother hiding shifted to confusion as a single English word bid them escape. Nicholas revisited the lettering above it and noted the clean, even line work. If it was madness, Nicholas would expect it frantic and intense and messy but whatever this message said, it was intentional. He glanced at Cal, looking to see his reaction.