Rei met his gaze when he gave it. He held the room more than he should have, in that heat, and she was only aware of the potential behind his answer by the way some of the girls shifted in their seats. The boy in front of him, Yuri, had a slow and spreading smile. Of course. It was the kind of answer they would find appealing. She took a breath before nodding like he was unremarkable. In the end, Kitato might not have been wrong. “Wild with that hunger.” She repeated. “And he is, probably, even if he wanted her before it mattered who she belonged to.”<br/><br/>She tucked her bobbed strands behind her ear. “Basic human compulsions do have a way of staying relevant. I think, the sad part is, some of the nuance of this piece has not. Like the reference to silphium—” she stopped when he interjected, and nearly bit her tongue. Her eyes widened just so, and the dust-speckled air lit cinders in the deep hues of her eyes. “Ah, well, I don’t think that’s anything to be particularly proud of, Mr. Kitato.” She said, and the flush of her cheeks seemed deeper. It might have just been the heat and the suggestion of her wine-soaked stare. It might have been that Kit had embarrassed her.<br/><br/>“Impulse, at its base, is the same across many emotions.” She cleared her throat. “Perhaps, because most impulses share in the fundamental honesty of human selfishness. This sensation, too, keeps Catullus relevant. Whether or not you have chosen to read the given assignment, you can connect with our poet, can you not?” Rei said. That same flippant voice she’d used when he’d caught her in her underclothes. Had he needed something? She’d looked at him with the sort of sterility she’d imagined a mother should look at a child. It had been stark, because their relationship was not that, nor the difference in their age. When he had left, she had felt vulnerable and dressed quickly.<br/><br/>Now, they met the same precipice. She should not have been stubborn. In all the time she’d known Kitato, it had rarely served her well. She’d kept him at arm’s length in response, sweet to a fault. Made a point of him understanding her place with his brother. Like that should have meant something to him. She might be family one day, after all. There had been boundaries that hadn’t need establishment, but had grown nonetheless. This time, she might have felt obligated to press them further toward that peculiar edge. He was disrupting her class and he was her student. If she'd ever felt compelled to brandish her maturity, it was then. The result was, perhaps, less than what she wanted.<br/><br/>She’d had her feelings hurt a bit, when Nahoya had mentioned Kit’s reluctance to enroll. Kit had liked poetry when they were younger, she’d protested. She regretted ever fretting over it. “You can see, even superficially, the continued relevance of this man wielding his passion in his pen. There’s purpose there, and any purpose is more intriguing than the lack thereof.” Rei tipped her chin upward. “Please prepare yourself for class and arrive on time, moving forward.  You’re an adult now. I expect you to behave like one.” She hadn’t dropped his gaze. There was something in her bright burnished stare that said he’d be hearing more from her later, regardless of whether he chose to fall in line then.