It's a bright New England winter day. Xan and Leo have elected to take the tunnels from Poe dorm to the Powers Theory classroom, because regardless of their Exemplar ratings, they're still from California and it's eight degrees out. And the tunnels have central heating. Glorious, glorious central heating.

In the middle of an extended diatribe against artificial turf, Xan opens the door to Schuester Hall, which is... not the door to Schuester Hall.

Xan peers at it. "Are we being pranked or something? Has someone not been informed that I piss napalm?"

"You bleed napalm," notes Leo. "If you were pissing it we'd have a medical issue on our hands. Somebody could've thrown up an illusion, but I don't really see the point of replacing Schuester with... a bar? With some chick inside? Like, what, we're going to whip out our fake IDs and get in trouble? But Mom always says that if you can't see the point of a trap then whoever set it is smarter than you are. Let's go down the hall and take the south door."

"Jesus Christ," Xan mutters, hauling Leo in by the arm. "Let's avoid the cool-as-shit magic bar, he says. You're such a fucking girl."

Leo makes a noise of protest. "I'm working on that! And I object to your manhandling!"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

They behold the bar. It's a very nice bar. It has a window to some exploding stars. "Huh. I'm... pretty sure that's magic of some kind," notes Leo.

"So am I, dipshit, we're both wizards."

"Just making conversation."

It's a bright New England winter day. Xan and Leo have elected to take the tunnels from Poe dorm to the Powers Theory classroom, because regardless of their Exemplar ratings, they're still from California and it's eight degrees out. And the tunnels have central heating. Glorious, glorious central heating.

In the middle of an extended diatribe against artificial turf, Xan opens the door to Schuester Hall, which is... not the door to Schuester Hall.

Xan peers at it. "Are we being pranked or something? Has someone not been informed that I piss napalm?"

"You bleed napalm," notes Leo. "If you were pissing it we'd have a medical issue on our hands. Somebody could've thrown up an illusion, but I don't really see the point of replacing Schuester with... a bar? With some chick inside? Like, what, we're going to whip out our fake IDs and get in trouble? But Mom always says that if you can't see the point of a trap then whoever set it is smarter than you are. Let's go down the hall and take the south door."

"Jesus Christ," Xan mutters, hauling Leo in by the arm. "Let's avoid the cool-as-shit magic bar, he says. You're such a fucking girl."

Leo makes a noise of protest. "I'm working on that! And I object to your manhandling!"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

They behold the bar. It's a very nice bar. It has a window to some exploding stars. "Huh. I'm... pretty sure that's magic of some kind," notes Leo.

"So am I, dipshit, we're both wizards."

"Just making conversation."

It's a bright New England winter day. Xan and Leo have elected to take the tunnels from Poe dorm to the Powers Theory classroom, because regardless of their Exemplar ratings, they're still from California and it's eight degrees out. And the tunnels have central heating. Glorious, glorious central heating.

In the middle of an extended diatribe against artificial turf, Xan opens the door to Schuester Hall, which is... not the door to Schuester Hall.

Xan peers at it. "Are we being pranked or something? Has someone not been informed that I piss napalm?"

"You bleed napalm," notes Leo. "If you were pissing it we'd have a medical issue on our hands. Somebody could've thrown up an illusion, but I don't really see the point of replacing Schuester with... a bar? With some chick inside? Like, what, we're going to whip out our fake IDs and get in trouble? But Mom always says that if you can't see the point of a trap then whoever set it is smarter than you are. Let's go down the hall and take the south door."

"Jesus Christ," Xan mutters, hauling Leo in by the arm. "Let's avoid the cool-as-shit magic bar, he says. You're such a fucking girl."

Leo makes a noise of protest. "I'm working on that! And I object to your manhandling!"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

They behold the bar. It's a very nice bar. It has a window to some exploding stars. "Huh. I'm... pretty sure that's magic of some kind," notes Leo.

"So am I, dipshit, we're both wizards."

"Just making conversation."