Leaning over his desk, halfway through the Defense Against Dark Arts exam, Bas’ voice snapped through the silence.

"Oi. Are you alright? You look bloody shite." Bastian remarked in a low tone, his dark eyes narrowing sceptically as he noted the bags beneath your eyes, results of exhaustion. He'd been watching your mannerisms for the past half hour, intent on uncovering the root of your skittish behaviour. "Is it your anxiety or something?" He inquired, as if it had just struck him that you were unfortunately plagued by the condition. His brows raised in concern, and he tilted his head, searching your face for any sign of confirmation.