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Who: Ingrid and Neah
What: Ingrid keeps Neah after class to catch him up on work
Where: Ingrid's classroom
When: This afternoon
Rating: PG? may change depending

[She's got all the work he's missed sitting out in a neat row of stacks on the front of her desk. Ingrid gestures to them with a smirk.]

I think having you stay here a few times like this will help you catch up to the rest of the students. We can't have you fall to far behind, now can we?

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[Part of him was expecting there to be a workload waiting for him as soon as he got back to Prospero. Yet, another part of him thought Ingrid would let him off easy, with his feigned "illness" and all. So it's quite expected that he has a look of slight disdain appearing on his face.]

Really? All of this?

This is only the essentials. I thought you may not be up to all the in-class activities just yet.

[Re: I could make it harder, don't complain.]

[He'll shut his mouth right now and take one of the closer stacks of paper to a desk.]

My apologies for taking up your time. Mrs. Barnes.

[Good boy.]

What better things would I have for my time than shaping the mind of a young student?

[Neah drops his pencil. Figuring that Ingrid must have known something, and that she had a feeling that he wasn't sick at all. ... Maybe he should just tell her the truth.]

... You know the truth, do you not?

[Smile is still in place, tone taking a very light air of false innocence.]

And what truth would that be?

[She knew. Neah had a feeling. However, it seems like he had to explain something to her, rather than keep on the excuse of him being... sick.]

As you know, I was not sick. [His eyes shift.] I was brought back to my world.

[The smile drops into something more neutral, but she remains the picture of calm.]

I want to know about the experience. What happened when you went back?

Nothing unusual. I am already dead, you see. [He slightly smiles.] I was almost awakened, but my nephew gained control over his body again. [He has no idea how he's here, or why he still has this body.]

That is all.

Dead. [She echos, eyebrow raising.]

What about the time displacement? Didn't anyone react to you being away for so long?

Dead. [He repeats. This term was normal.]

No. Time had not moved, it seemed. A rather strange phenomenon.

How?

That is strange. Impossible seeming.

How, what? [Just a single, yet ghostly smile.]

Quite so. But it is a rather good thing that time does not move back home, does it not?

How are you dead back home but still around there? And what do you mean by control over your nephew's body?

Yes, but it's unsettling. It means no one knows we're here.

Back home, I live within my nephew's subconscious. [Oh man. Here he goes. Ingrid will possibly end up hating him, but she deserved to know the truth.] I have been dead for more than 35 years, you see.

So when I say "controlling my nephew's body", it is known back home that I will consume his soul, and will be able to fully utilize his body to kill the man who killed me. [Neah has a strange sort of casual tone while he speaks. Not wanting to scare off his teacher, but. Eh...]

Perhaps someone or something behind the shadows brought us here...

You're killing him. For a revenge plan. [Ingrid sighs, body tensing.Her tone gets harsher.] I'm supposing you never gave him a say so in this arrangement, hmm?

Unfortunately, no. I had to find the nearest host as soon as possible. [Oh, he's so used to this kind of reaction. It's not as if he's happy about it either.] ... He is my brother's adoptive son. But you, Mrs. Barnes, know him as Allen Walker.

[Eyebrows practically disappearing into her bangs.] Allen. The Allen who is here, in Prospero. But he exists without you.

I had assumed it would have been his brother with how much you two look alike. But how can it be the same person?

I do not know myself. From what I have gathered, we are not from the same time period as one another. That is why I exist within this body, and he is within his own body.

But that is all I am aware of. My apologies for not being to provide anymore information.

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