Themis had spent a majority of the cloudy day disapproving of the clouds that would obscure her skies this evening. It was a frustrating fact throughout her life - Britain was perpetually cloudy. It seemed, however, that her lack of access to the stars would no longer dampen the evening.

Themis still felt her heart quicken at the sight of this penmanship. It now seemed as familiar as her own, but the sight of it, the weight somehow softer than the man who owned it, but no less distinctive. There was no hesitation in his hand, it drove to a point with a steady pace. The handwriting, Themis decided after dedicating far too much time to the topic, was a brilliant reflection of its master.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening dragged limpingly toward night.

After hurrying along curfew-stragglers on the staircases, Themis stepped out of the castle into the damp air of the night. She took it deep in her lungs, the familiarity of the darkness a welcome friend. The floating light Themis conjured to guide her was hardly necessary; she'd walked this path so many times in her life. It was more selfish than safety that kept the light floating along until she could see the shape of Samuel in the dark. It brought nearly as much joy as her stars.

Her smile was warm; genuine when she greeted him. "Professor Griffith, what a pleasure to see you."

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