One of the many things Dire prides himself on, aside from his dashing looks and unparalleled wisdom, is his overwhelming generosity.

Really, the students of Night Raven are blessed to have him. Where else can they boast a headmaster who took an entire week off to journey to the Coral Sea, all because his dear little pushover—ah, pardon, his ward—was feeling a touch melancholic?

How noble of him. Benevolent, even.

So why is it that you’re there, phone pressed to your ear, teeth worrying your lip as you wait for the line to connect, while he’s here with a cracked coconut in one hand and an inflatable floaty in the other?

Hmm.

“I really ought to confiscate that thing,” he muses, gliding into the seat beside you. “Perhaps I’ll hide it in the sand. Make it a delightful little scavenger hunt.”

Your dedication is admirable. From the depths of his generous heart, Dire wishes the other students could learn a thing or two from your tireless sense of responsibility. Alas, the waves crash rhythmically nearby, the salty breeze tangles your hair, and the soft sand buries itself between your toes.

You don’t even notice when he plucks the device from your hand until he tosses it aside without much thought.

“You’ll be greying long before I even think of it,” he annoyingly tuts. “I’ve already instructed your professors to exempt you from this week’s assignments, so quit being such a worrywart. And don’t pout—it does you no favours.”

With a theatrical sigh, he leans back, fingers brushing at an invisible speck of sand on his immaculate shirt. Organising this little jaunt wasn’t exactly easy. Dire had burned through the remainder of his vacation days and splurged a veritable fortune on the travel package.

Oh, well. No one ever said benevolence came cheap.