Mathematics: Day 1--Assessing Former Knowledge

Even though the castle was outfitted with a few modern conveniences such as electric lights and plumbing and other seeming necessities, Caislin Hallows seemed remarkably primitive to Forrasis as he strode down the hall with a metal briefcase in one hand. Azure eyes scanned his surroundings, unimpressed by the cloth covered stone, floors adorned with carpets, walls with tapestries. Every lamp that had replaced a torch in the wall sconces in a pitiful attempt to maintain the antiquated decorum of the architecture agitated the man as its light glimmered across the curved metal of his cuirass, catching upon every decorative edge.

Whenever Forcas passed a suit of ancient mail displayed in an alcove, his eyes narrowed in contempt. Unlike armor from ages passed, where human had crafted it from steel with a hammer upon the anvil, the man’s armor was feather light with a far more elegant and smooth construction. He barely felt its weight upon his lithe frame. The seamless joints and connections moved without the faintest of resistance. The two qualities together made it feel as if he wore nothing more than cloth garb as he marched towards his destination. Even the peculiarity of his armor, the two metal limbs tucked behind the back of the cuirass, did not hamper the fluidity of his movements.

At long last, the Fallen had found the room to which the key he held belonged. After removing the key ring from a clip on the briefcase and inserting it into the lock, he gave a twist and opened the door. Forcas could not see hardly any detail in the room beyond the portal, save for where the light from the hallway spilled across the floor to reveal… even more stone covered by carpet. Reaching into the room, Foras managed to flick on the lights with a groping swipe of his gauntleted hand. Dispelling the darkness did little to dispel his disappointment. Rows of old, wooden chair-desks filled the room with a blackboard at the front, behind a large, ornate desk meant for the teacher. “How… expected,” sighed the man in a soft, melodious voice.

Foras walked to the front of the class and set the metal briefcase down upon the desk. He undid the silver clasps and opened. His gaze settled upon the contents for a moment before he snapped it shut again. Sapphire eyes lifted and watched the doorway, and as Forrasis waited, he began calculating every change he would make to the classroom when he got the chance.

Math. What miserable creature decided to make something so simple so complicated? And when did the average person use the abundance of equations to solve anything asides of figuring the best way to torture a person’s mind? Yoko miserably made her way down the hall only to pause outside the door. Those violet eyes glared at door designated for Math.

“Gods, why have you forsaken me?” She whispered darkly under her breath. “Of all the ways to torture me, you just had to pick the top thing on my list.” A heavy sigh left her.

In yester-year, math and science were courses that only men were encouraged to take. Women took other courses like home-ec and cooking because it was believed their frail minds wouldn’t be able to handle it. It wasn’t that women were stupid. They had been placed on a stool and were never expected to chase after their dreams or accomplish anything. The women back then were simply pushed into marriage and child-rearing, and a woman’s worth was measured on that, not how intelligent she was or talented. Some of the best role models were dumb blondes who did as they were told and nothing more.

Yoko huffed.

She never had the chance to experience the cruel fate of being chained in one’s own home. It was perhaps a good thing. Something she should be thankful for. But to actually take the math course? She’d be even more grateful if she wasn’t required to.

A heavy sigh flowed past her lips. As much as she’d rather to, she couldn’t stand outside the door and pout all day. Unfortunately, she actually had to sit in the class and bang her head against the desk repeatedly. Yoko’s features softened as she reached for the door. Her serene appearance merely turned to that of a shocked look when she realized who’d be the teacher.

Him.

She could feel the rage boiling inside of her, and, for a moment, she struggled to keep her emotion from floating to the surface. Why did she hate this man so much? She was perplexed by it too and couldn’t understand why she despise such a creature more than herself- especially seeing how he had done nothing to deserve her hate, yet.

Yoko awkwardly walked towards a desk, feet barely managing to keep her from tripping. The landing of her rear to the seat was not the least bit graceful. It was so ungraceful that the chair/desk made a loud SQUUAAWWWWWK noise as it scraped across the floor for a moment. Her pale cheeks flushed in frustration and embarrassment.

What in the Hell did she do to deserve this?

Slowly, Yoko covered her face with the palm of her hand. I just want to go home. She thought to herself.

[With a huff of despair Michael raised from his stoop upon the bench by the infirmary, it had seemed so busy that he just kept to himself until things quieted down. Raising himself up, he found a yellow paper attached to his suit jacket folded over the back of the bench. Snatching the paper up, he read the note from Administrators that told him to meet with Mathematics Class. The sun light tore at his eyes, even with the uv protection along the windows the shine of light tore at his eyes like needles in the skin. A gentle groan escaped the form as he pulled the suit jacket from it’s hold, pulling a pair of thin black tinted sunglasses from the breast pocket, placing them on his nose loosely as he tossed the jacket over his shoulder.

Adjusting the lens’ against the frame of his face, hands shot out and adjusted the cuffs of the long white sleeves that boasted with silken textured fabric. A silver striped tie that crumpled with wrinkles due to the napping position he had taken out of boredom of waiting. Quickly he made his way through the halls, making not a single sound as the form moved through the halls, a slight head ache grew as he moved through the halls. The light was becoming more irritating over time as he tried to move quickly to the right hall that lead to the class. His hand raised up and grasped finger and thumb against his forehead and temple, blocking some rays of light from his eyes, how he boasted that his Astrology class was much easier to take in his head.

Finding the door, he swiftly pushed it open only to come into the equality to light in this room as in the halls. Ahh but there were blinds, perhaps he could have a few of the closed due to the conditions needed to adjust. A matter he would bring up in a moment, swiftly his brow raised as a familiar scent wafted into his senses forcing the grey hues to land upon the little innocent face. With a slight smile his eyes pried from Cherie Amour as they moved to the teacher seeming to stumble with the malfunction of the school, as old as the town boasts this town to be, the school sadly tagged along in the medieval sport and really didn’t offer much to the more complex situations.

”Good Afternoon Sir, Michael Morrigan, this is Mathematics with… He quickly pulled the yellow note from his side in his hand, lifting it to look at it once again. ”With Monsieur Forcas?” He’d offer only but a bow before the man could answer, moving to take a seat amongst the shade in the classroom, tossing his coat over an empty seat in front of his desk. Simply a hand slid down the front of his shirt, straightening it as he sat down in the seat causing the wrinkles in his tie to set once again.

For a moment, Foras’s face scrunched with agitation when the ancient iron hinges screeched their anguished scream of neglect. While the wooden door appeared at first glance perfect with its polished finish, Foras had detected tiny imperfections in it that irritated him. The old portal was too out of date for his fancy, just as the rest of his classroom was. There would be much renovating needed before he felt that it was an environment for learning suitable for the current century.

When his azure eyes beheld who the door had hidden while it opened, his face relaxed into a solemn smile. “Good day, it is good to see you again, Miss,” he addressed her as she kept a placid face and silently sought a seat. While she made hardly a noise, her chair shattered the quiet of the room with its horrifically loud scraping across the floor. Before the Teacher could speak again to perhaps discover more about his student, there was another arrival. The second student was not one with which he was familiar.

He returned the greeting to the young man,” Good afternoon to you as well, young sir. Yes, you are correct. You were on the list of students that I am to be teaching.” When Forrasis gave a gentle nod in acknowledgement, his mane of platinum locks bobbed around his head. His eyes remained on Michael for a few moments longer, taking a measure of the lithe youth before returning to the girl. “Would you be Miss Terrence Genova or Miss Cherie Amour? Unfortunately, I did not catch your name the other day, as you seemed to be in quite the hurry to leave the registration office.” The voice that spilled from his lips was soft and easy on the ears, almost as if he sung each word to the world.

With a groan escaping her lips, hazel hues scoured the doorways and halls for the slightest sign of life. This castle had always been such a dead cell on the inside, yet ants seemed to crawl even from the cracks in the marble. All this, and for what? To go to a class where the life will be sucked out of her? So much for not being prey. This made the young girl laugh, hand over the bared chest as she continued down the hallway, the thought of being prey only made her giggle and quirk with slight excitement. It's been a long time since she was hunted, but everybody needs a break at some point in time. In her hand laid nylon fabric, wrapped into a strap that attached itself into a soft blue bag that dragged on the ground behind her. It wasn't heavy, just annoying to continue to carry for any moment further.

The moving of a shadow, the sound of a door closing as she came closer to the corner. Quickly appearing around it's quelled desire, she could only watch as a door swung shut once again. Perhaps this was the Math class, an unpopular subject in high school, she was surprised it even made it past the thirteenth grade. Still, the woman pressed on, dazzled in nothing more but her ranger outfit from her previous entailing of Carnival rides and Candy times. Short green shorts, attached to an over-sized belt that hung loosely around her hips only to keep a long damper green t-shirt tucked in. Her free hand raised up, thumb tucking into the dark brown suspender that held there for looks and fashion, more than use. With this, she took a deep breath and pulled the door open only to reveal herself to three people already in the room.

A soft flush of pink touched the hues of the caramel toned skin as she entered into the room, taking brace and relaxing a moment she would recognize Michael from their history class together. There sitting off to the side was a pale thinly creature, this one also set her off just slightly. There had only been a few people she met in Caislin Hallows that gave her the ''insta-Creeps'' and this girl was becoming one of them. Perhaps it was because she was a Shaman, she could feel the undead and the magically powerful around her, even if her own mortal eyes can't see it. Still Hunni was the best at gentle manners and sweet memoirs. Her head would bow to the young girl, then looking to Michael she sent him a slight wave before finding a seat, letting her bag lay on the floor beside the seat as she pulled the seat from it's hold. The screech of metal against marble made her skin crawl, sending shock waves through her veins. Biting down against the lavender colored lip, one eye would open as she stared into the group of people, finally sitting in the loud seat.

She acted as if nothing had happened, that this room didn't utterly depress her. That studying the subject of math, perhaps this time around, would actually be done instead of ignoring it and breezing by on a few tests. Finally the damn girl sat still, hands folding ever so properly against the table in front of her. Hearing the last bit of his words, Hunni gave off a gentle smile as she raised her hand to interrupt the teacher. She had never met this man before, but was told his name and the basics of his looks so she would recognize him."Dono-Forcas? I am Terrence Genova a pleasure to have met you. Like a children's lullaby on hushed mother's lips, her words spread through like a brush against canvas, smooth and delicate.

equipped runes:
red / Warrior rune.
yellow / Wall rune.
blue / Fortune rune.

Room I had not been as appalling as he predicted. In fact the lackluster dorm suited Distols unostentatious liking. He could still recall the simplicity of the quarters --four unornamented walls lacking any finery. The bed had been driven to a corner and the only two other objects were his stocked dresser and a desk that had become a workstation for activities encompassing the runes.

He had deserted the dormitory long ago and his footfalls became focussed on reaching the introductory mass lesson before it had commenced. En route to the class he recollected the events of the forenoon which was the downtempo that his stroll did not crave. A pulsation occurred in his pocket suddenly. The quaking enticed him and interest gripped him. This was the first time the cell phone had functioned. He had mused on leaving it behind, however, if he had the caller would not be uncovered. Distol's right hand infiltrated his pocket and acquired the phone. Initially he held the gadget in front of his face as his eyes explored the unconventional number and instantaneously he memorized it for future exchanges. His finger dragged over the touch-screen and embraced the call, but before he could address his uncertainty a mature tone, or what he determined Gunnar Sigmund would sound like subtract his hokum accent, spoke.

"Five rings --I feared you dead, Distol Beoulve. Us scientists have nil toleration for such lethargy, my boy."

Bafflement.

"Look sharp, Distol. I'm aware that you are informed of me. It is I, Victor, your . . . oh what is is a suitable term . . . compadre! I do hope you appreciate Caislin Hallows as much as Dr. Cross and I anticipated you would. Such variety; vampires, lycanthropes and God knows what else. Quite captivating!"

Bewilderment remained, but Distol was capable of responding.

"The school is fine, Dr. Victor. I have a question," he did not wait for the scientist to confirm it, "is Dr. Cross dead?"

"Dead as a doornail. Are the girls tempting? I tell you Distol you are in the catbird seat! Call it tittle-tattle, but I hear vampires are quite the lovers."

No longer did confusion grip him, however, he was growing annoyed.

"There is one . . . wait. I have no interest in such things. I have interest in nothing here."

"How sorrowful. Be cheerful. You are extraordinary. I will contact you soon. Au revoir."

The click terminated the call and left Distol stupefied. "What a lunatic." He said in an undertone as his eyes lifted and he inspected the entrance of the classroom. The phone returned to his pocket and his lively feet ushered him to the class. He had arrived just in time to hear the Terrence Genova's introduction. No anxiety seized him, he did not feel out of place or concerned in the slightest. He did not steer clear of the amassing scholars, but instead he selfishly sat in the desk that was the shortest distance from him. Also unlike the others he did not proffer his name or a salutation. This educator knew who they were.

(The player of Yoko has left the forum. It shall be assumed that her character received a call on her cellphone and left the class.)

Forrasis never received the answer to his question, at least not from the person to whom it had been asked. Instead, he heard another woman’s gentle voice supply him with the knowledge he needed. “Well then, if you are Miss Genova, then by the process of elimination, the young woman who just left must have been in fact Miss Amour. A pity, it seems she won’t be joining us today. Perhaps tomorrow.” While Hunni’s words had been a lullaby, the Fallen’s were harmonious hymn. Every syllable that spilled from Foras’s lips was a sweet song, carried by the harps of cherubs.

When the door creaked again, announcing another entrant to his class, Forcas’s azure gaze lifted to the newcomer as the youth sought a seat near the door, and thereby at the back of the class. Again by the process of elimination and given that only two men had been listed on his roster, Foras’s was able to conclude that the second arrival was the Distol Beoulve. His class consisted of four, though only three had arrived and stayed, students that had decided to scatter themselves around the room. To Foras, there was no apparent logic evident in their seating arrangement. It was only a minor detail that he would quickly correct.

The teacher cleared his throat, and even that normally crude sound held a soft music as it vibrated in his throat. “If you would please, I would like if all of you sat in the front row as there is not enough of you to justify sitting beyond it.”

Foras waited until the students objected or oblige, his face maintaining his placid expression as easily as any marble statue might. “Now, I have heard how in your former institutions, if you attended any, you were most likely taught as a group all at the same pace without any regard to your specific talents or failings. This was a mistake I shall not repeat. Each of you will have your own curriculum that will provide challenges suited for you and you alone. To determine exactly what material needs to be covered by each individual, there will be two parts of today’s class.” As he spoke, Forrasis’s traced his gauntleted fingertips across the smooth, steel suitcase he had laid atop his desk. The faint hum of metal scraping across metal filled the silence between his words.

“First, I will administer an examination. It will be timed, and you are not allowed the use of a calculator. A sheet of common formulae will be provided for your use as reference during the exam. Second, I will meet with each of you to speak in private. We will discuss your personal goals and expectations for this class. You may also tell me of your previous experiences and knowledge in the subject, but I believe that the results of your evaluations will be a better gauge of ability.” Foras’s silver fingers darted across the clasps of the briefcase and they snapped open, glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the room. After a two second pause, as Foras withdrew his hands, the case opened towards him, like the yawning mouth of a metallic monster. The Fallen reached into the maw, the lid of the container concealing its contents.

“This, is your examination,” he stated, hefting a thin stack of papers into the air. “You will be allotted an hour and a half to complete it. If you know all of the material, it should take half of that time; if you know none of it, you won’t finish—even if you use the sheet of formulae.” Forrasis paused, glancing over his pupils.

With a shake of his head, his mane of platinum locks swaying against his cheeks and shoulders, he announced his assessment, “I doubt any of you will know all of the material.” The Fallen lowered his eyes to the papers in his metal-gloved hand and they drifted from left to right as he scanned the page. “It begins with basic arithmetic and ends with theoretical mathematics that even the geniuses of this middle sphere have yet to even fathom. If you find the wording of a question vague or do not understand what is being asked, please raise your hand and I will come assist you. I can only provide minimal instruction in additional instruction to what has been printed. Are there any questions?”

Quite the banal task. Awareness was not questionable from his current settle, but instead the delicate --no, feminine man behind the desk; adorned in metal preferred them all under his nose. Habitually Distol did not mind this, a seat was a seat, but he did not detect a motive for the command. His hearing was exceeding the norm and he declared himself the most sophisticated among the gathering aside from the effeminate lecturer. Distol had transported nothing to the class. The only belonging was a plain pen which he had inserted inside his pocket prior to exiting his equally plain dorm.

He stood, identified an unoccupied path through the oversupplied classroom and designated a deserted desk his next stop. As he relocated he observed the others who migrated as well. An equally delicate man, a fleeing girl and two similar girls, however, one was ill-prepared for the class evidently. Nothing special. He claimed the previously selected seat after the stroll which was comparatively in the vicinity of the others but still a few vacant seats away. He previously decided on disregarding the teachers claims. What was the significance behind teaching futuristic and unfamiliar math? Possibly a practice of feeling self value. Distol had learned of individuals who enforced their ideology and astuteness as if it got them off . . . was this Foras that type? Nontheless Distol would take this assessment and try his finest --he was unquestionably that type of person and while abusing the Fortune rune the exam would be a cakewalk.

Forrasis was quick to correct Mike’s mistake of drawing the blinds. Sunlight sifted into the room between the slats like gold through a prospector’s sieve. The glow caressed the occupants of the classroom with a gentle warmth. Forcas was well aware of Mikel’s ‘condition’ but it was also the teacher’s understanding that he and similarly afflicted students and staff would have been treated against something as fatal as sunlight. If the young man had not heeded the warnings of others, it was not his concern should he suffer for it. In seconds, the Fallen had returned to his place behind the teacher’s desk.

Once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker, concluded Foras as he watched Mikel harass the latest student. The teacher had greeted her with a nod and indicated her for her to take a seat—excuses were not needed and lateness would not be tolerated a second time. Discipline was lacking, save for one individual who had remained silent since his arrival.

Anger strained Forrasis’s angelic countenance. Muscles drew taut across bone, his thin eyebrows lowering over his narrowed eyes. In the next instant, his hand dipped down to his thigh and a compartment slid open in his armor. A tiny shaft of silver popped into his gauntleted hand. By the time he had hefted it in front of him, the rod had transformed into an intimidating weapon. A crossguard sprung from the shaft and a blade of steel stretched from the top. As the blade lengthened, its color melted from silver to molten orange. Heat radiated from the sword as Foras tightened his grip on its handle.

“Front row. I will not repeat myself again,” ordered the Fallen as he thrust the point of his weapon towards Mikel. Shades of orange danced along the length of the blade like swirling magma. The sharpened tip was only inches from Mikel’s face, and its warmth washed over both Mikel and Merisa, soaking into their skin with the oppressiveness of the desert sun. The longer the weapon lingered above Merisa’s shoulder, the more strands of her hair began to twist with a heat-inspired frizz. As she had been late to his class, she was not innocent either, Forrasis was unconcerned with her comfort as he waited for Mikel to comply.

“In this classroom, I am Lord and Master. My word is Law.” Azure eyes narrowed on the miscreant that had disrupted Forasis’s class already. “If you will not oblige, you will be banished from my class. Under no circumstances will I tolerate disobedience.” When the Angels rebelled, there was no forgiveness for their transgressions. The Heavenly Host was without sin, so the very act of revolt had cast them from grace. Forrasis, a former ruler over a domain in hell, leader of legions, dealt with disobedience equally as harsh as the Father. Unmoving, unrelenting, he waited for the vampire to move from his seat behind the single girl in the class.

Mikel was astounded by the complete and utter rude behavior that emitted by this man. Not only was he trying to kill Mikel, but he was also not threatening the very fabric of Merisa. There was a danger here that could not be taken easily, the nerve of the man not only making Mikel look like the bad man, but he was destroying the locks of Merisa's hair with this dagger hanging over her shoulder. Mikel would only sit, as a smile came creeping along his face. The sunglasses pulled back down to cover the grey hues from the pain recieved from the sunlight. How inconsiderate some people truly could be.

This wasn't a matter for him, nor would it be a problem for Mikel to just allow the man to be sucked into the worm hole like some sort of jizz-stain on his clothing. The smirk held against his face as he would only take one movement, his foot pressed against the back of Merisa's chair. For himself, he was a man and could take care of himself, but Forcas had no reason to harm this woman and would not be allowed to continue defile her body for his own pleasures. Quickly his foot kicked sideways, casting the woman aside knocking her desk into the one next to hers. It only took a moment before Mikel braved the teachers blade, allowing the heat to tear at his skin as it melted beneath the heat.

"If your problem is with me, deal with me. Don't you dare hurt a woman, she has not done a thing to deserve your foolish manners. Now compose yourself. For this isn't the way a teacher is to deal with his students. You vile creature. Have you no honor?" His words spit like acid, but it would be the last that Mikel would say as his body lifted from the desk. In one swift movement, caring less about those left in the class, he'd move from his post to the doorway where he pressed the door open. "I fear manners have died, Merisa, please do not allow yourself to be disfigured by this creature. Women are not be treated like torture victims."

With that his hand flew up in a single wave as the entirety of the room had started to make him feel ill-willed towards the teacher. It was one thing to force his dominance over Mikel, but to do so in such an outrageous manner. He would find Alis, he would demand the cure so the sullen duty of being embarrassed in class once again would come to a halt. Next time, he wouldn't be so gracious. With this, Mikel excused himself from class, liked or not. This was no place for a gentleman.


Exit.

Agitation swelled the room and awoke Distol Beoulve from whatever reverie that haunted him. His eyes relocated to the ensuing falling-out concerning tardiness, reverence and disrespect. Distol's mind still wrestled with the idea of incalculable math, but when the ladylike man who formerly hid behind sunglasses presumed such a role Distol noticeably scoffed, belittling the gentleman who plainly mistreated the girl he was now protecting. Distol's eyes acquired the unique weaponry of the teacher and he began calculations with regard to its aptness as well.

Eventually he stood and initially meant to band together with the conflicting student encouraged by the pugnacious teacher, but it was the 'empty talk' of Mikel that inclined Distol to take sides with the teacher and regardless of his professed exit Distol's observation was put into words, "What hypocrisy. I witnessed that moron paw at her," he motioned at MerissaAnne, "yet he preaches about the rights of women? Mr. Foras, give me permission to pursue him. I will enlighten that idiot." Distol took a few steps away from the desk and towards the doorway. If equip, the Rune Guard would be lively with the caress of vermillion as if to reflect his emotions.

As hair turned to ash with a repulsive scent, Foras questioned the mystery of how the heat that had originally only frizzled the strands had disintegrated them. The young vampire’s pathetic attempts to play the white knight actually brought a mocking grin to his lips. Laughter as light as chimes and as cold as Arctic wind drifted from his lips at the phony gentleman’s gallantry. Once the would-be hero had retreated, Forcas withdrew his weapon. In seconds, the shimmering orange blade had darkened to steel gray and retracted, along with the two crossguards. Forrasis stowed the weapon in the crevice in his cuisses again before it sealed shut.

When there was another disturbance as the student Distol spoke, Forcas turned his azure eyes on the youth. After a moment, a quick nod of approval was given, Foras’s platinum mane bobbing lightly. “Yes, go. You are dismissed.” When he heard the sheepish voice of the female, turned to her, noting the distress in her voice and stance. “Yes, you are dismissed as well.”

With two students having rushed off on their own accord, another leaving as a delinquent with a classmate pursuing him like a vigilante, and a final running off scared, the teacher waited for the classroom to be empty. How uncivil and unruly these creatures of the middle sphere are, complained Forrasis to himself as the door finally swung shut behind the last of his students.

With a nod of her head, quickly she stood only to lean over and fix the desk to its original position in the front row. After the room had gotten so tense, and pressured into hectic hell hole it had become, she could only bow to the two men left in the room. "Good Afternoon." She spoke quickly then turned, quickly leaving the room with not even a sound as she hurried down into the halls.


EXIT

I did post...But it got ignored.....So I deleted it. <3)

A nod, a gesture of confirmation was all that suspended Distol's hurried exit from the class. Falseness, duplicity --call it whatever, but the man called Mikel was a fresh-faced trickster and had wrecked the Math class and the puzzling instructor who enjoyed the title 'The Fallen'. Regardless when the approval for pursuit arrived he nodded and was the final student to exit the unsuccessful class.

/Exit.

The students were gone. The stack of exams lay on the desk beside his metal briefcase, untouched by ink or graphite. Instead of being the one teaching, Foras had been the one learning during his first day of class. Between students leaving suddenly, unexcused and for unexplained reasons, and others being disruptive and undisciplined, Forrasis had found the students assigned to his class wanting.

Thin, metal sheathed fingers slowly scooped the stack of papers from the desk and deposited them into the briefcase once more. Snapping down the lid, he locked the clasps before lifting the container. The last one to leave, Forcas flicked off the lights on his way out of the classroom. Despite the placid expression on his face, his mind worked at the puzzle Caislin Hallows had presented him as a teacher.

(Exit)