GoodFellow watched her prowling with the sheet around her. She was edgy and tense. It was expected wasn't it. She would not likely get use to it very soon. But she would adjust. She would get tired of spitting into the wind. Tired of losing. Tired of it all.<br/><br/>Her art work was classic and fresh. He hated that she put it away but there were somethings that had to be hers. It was not up for negotiations. Her art was her therapy, the way she coped. He would not take that from her. Nor allow anyone else to either.<br/><br/>"First day of school," GoodFellow said. "Classes. Did you decide to put on the uniform or are you going in the buff to classes for the rest of the day?"