"You're late." Bishop Emet-Selch sat on the long bench, watching as the lower-year Apprentices returned victorious from the field, resting his chin in his hand as he spoke.
Malin, who had come up beside him, was all smiles looking toward the direction of the arena, "No, I saw it while I was up there, and Maya must have seen me too." After finishing his sentence, Malin placed his small wand onto a rack that was reserved for holding them, then sat down.
"How did it go talking to your brother?" Malin looked at him, noticing that although his face still bore some swollen bruises, his teeth were all in place indicating they had likely been repaired.
"...We talked a lot, I feel like the person I was before is just like an idiot." Bishop Emet-Selch didn't turn his head, but there was a silent, muffled self-assessment of his former self.