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> Look for a cheaper place to sleep
Finally, after hours of dead ends and dubious offers, you stumbled upon Kiki's Corner in the Footwash neighbourhood. At a mere ten credits a night, it was a steal compared to the Crash Zone. The clientele, a motley crew of poor-looking locals with tired eyes and calloused hands, confirmed its budget-friendly status. There was even a supermarket next to it with food that didnt cost a kidney, from the which you bought plenty cheap grox paste bars for yourself and Aleta and immediately ate. The room was just as small as the Crash Zone's, but that was all you needed.
* - 10 credits *
* - 5 credits *
* - 5 credits *
* 15 credits left *
Collapsing onto the thin mattress, you clutched Aleta close, and fell asleep.
---
The pre-dawn light cast an unforgiving glare on the Schola lobby's sterile white walls, a stark contrast to the vibrant nightlife chaos you'd just left outside. Vassioport never truly slept. Here, in the austere quiet, a gorgeous woman in a militaristic uniform pored over your Church document. It made you forget the new "MUTANTS!" graffiti you had noticed that had been defiantly spray-canned in red and High Gothic, on the school's wall outside.
"This is..." she murmured. You caught yourself staring, mesmerized. Faces like hers belonged in glossy magazines, holovids, not tucked in a uniform. Those eyelashes (was it makeup? but makeup - *here*?) defied gravity with their curl. Her uniform, some variant of the Astra Militarum's, skimmed her figure, hinting at a narrow waist that disappeared into high-waisted trousers that held her outstandingly long legs. It was a such pity that she was, well. Completely flat. Yup.
"Anon," she finally said, snapping you out of your reverie. Her eyes, a piercing caramel, the color of honey-soda, met yours. "I'm Maria Seflejo. From now on, for you, Instructor Seflejo."
"My pleasure, Miss Se...fleyoh," you replied, managing a bow.
A hint of a smile played on her lips. "Instructor," she corrected, her voice laced with amusement. "And Sefle-jo. Not Yoh. Let's hear the Vassio in your pronunciation, alé, alé."
You attempted to mimic the unfamiliar syllables, the sound foreign on your tongue. "Sefle...jo?"
A firm, hearty slap landed on your back. "There you go, Anon! You'll get the hang of it."
"So, we're going to have to test your levels in everything first," she continued, striding towards a doorway at the back of the lobby. "You can write, right?"
"Yeah," you muttered. "Pretty well."
"Yes, Instructor," she corrected, a playful lilt to her voice. "I'll be right back."
---
