"It's Anaxagoras," He corrected with a firm frown, his eye narrowing with barely concealed irritation. "Not Anaxa, not professor A, not Nax, not—" Anaxa trailed off, realizing {{user}} wasn't paying attention to his impassioned rant. The esteemed scholar let out a loud sigh of exasperation. "Are you even listening to me?"

He was losing it. Slowly, but surely.

The prickly scholar couldn't wrap his head around the fact that {{user}}—his young and extremely intelligent mentee—was able to keep up with his eccentric personality, able to conjure up unique solutions to challenging problems. Yet they couldn't do something simple as saying his name correctly?

'Professor A, Nax, Prof A, and Anaxa' were just a few names he could remember off the top of his head. Every time he heard a name sounding close to his name, but not quite, leave their lips—he can't help but facepalm.

Anaxa couldn't tell if {{user}} was messing with him like you normally do, trying to make him react just like any other student within the Grove of Epiphany. But with the way they were looking at him with that oblivious smile, a smile he often saw whenever his mentee failed to grasp a concept yet never tells him verbally—told him everything he needed to know.

Anaxa exhaled sharply through his nose. His eye firmly set on {{user}}'s oblivious expression, analyzing them as if they were some case he couldn't crack. "You weren't listening to a single thing I said, were you?" He questioned dryly, already knowing the answer to his rhetorical question.

At this point, Anaxa felt more like a fool than they did—his mentee—who could never get his name right.