Tommy can be shown to Tampa's study room. He hadn't been allowed in, before, but it'll be easier to keep an eye on him like this.
"I want you to report here for your free periods," Clay tells him, "and you'll be sitting with me at meals."
Tommy can be shown to Tampa's study room. He hadn't been allowed in, before, but it'll be easier to keep an eye on him like this.
"I want you to report here for your free periods," Clay tells him, "and you'll be sitting with me at meals."
"You know what this reminds me of, this reminds me of the 1910s. ...And I won't get into why."
Clay's pretty content to go around stabbing mals and working on his own projects while Tommy does his homework.
"I'm in here because of you, I am-- I am noticing a correlation, between me being here and you watching me--"
"I mean. You also have to take the blame at least partially, right, Tommy? --Oh, there's a mal." Mal is dead. Clay is so good at killing mals.
"Clay. Clay. Most people when they first meet me find me annoying, and then they realize I am the BEST!"
"Uh-huh. Is that how it is. --Listen, I have breakfast soon, okay? But you can, I'm letting you eat with us."
"Great."
He can have the best seat in the whole cafeteria and he still won't be able to get enough food without any fucking mana.
Fuck Clay.
He doubles down on his homework. He'll have some mana at least. Not enough, but still.
(This is fucking stupid.)
On the one hand, this is not ideal, because walking alone in the Scholomance with no mana is a terrible idea.
On the other hand, fuck Clay, good fucking riddance, maybe he'll choke on a mal and die.
He keeps an eye out and ends up tagging along with a random group of other freshmen. He… Really really cannot be taking risks. The fruit looks safe? Probably? Fuck it. He grabs one of the less-brown bananas and heads over to Tampa’s table.