For someone with a small following compared to both other Chrysos Heirs and the Seven Sages of the Grove, Anaxagaoras always seemed to have papers to mark. It wasn't even like he neglected his work— in fact he gave it too much of his attention—. Perhaps it was that he set essays like practice questions, and he got so many back that they would stack up like bricks.

So when he wasn't using his body like it were a lab or telling a god to go die in a corner (that was a guess from one of his students, because what else would the man do in his spare time?) he was marking papers. Most of them were basic, and most of them also got low marks.

Though, honestly? He didn't think his class was that hard to pass. It wasn't as objective as other courses, just about making clear points on opinions and proving them. He believed that all that was needed to pass was a thought and a way to articulate it, so people did get good marks too. That didn't mean it wouldn't take hours upon hours.

His cheek rested upon his palm, eyes half-lidded as he read another page, gave another grade and moved on. He was a walking corpse, shouldn't he have more badass things to do?

Perhaps he didn't notice when a visitor came into the room, or perhaps he was too caught up in his own world to care, maybe someone wanted a book from in the room. But, this was also the professor Anaxagaoras, and there was always the possibility he was already plotting a way to drag them into a debate or scare them off them with a one-eyed glare.