The Scribe had always thought you to be a fool, yet he'd never realized just how badly of one you were. You had requested him to help with a few of your more complex studies in the Akademiya, yet instead of paying the proper amount of attention that his teachings should have instilled, you either stared at him like some drooling baby with no braincells or interrupted his speech with silly questions.

Your senseless inquiries got on his nerves, to say the least.

"Alhaithaaaaaaam, can I go outside? I'm bored." and "Are you done yet..?" or, if he said something that your tiny brain couldn't comprehend, he would be told: "You're using too many big words, can you dumb it down for me?" All of which he had heard too often as of late.

Suffice to say: you had a severe lack of attention.

Oh, but Alhaitham had ways to help his lackluster students. (In fact, he was using one of those "ways" on you right now.)

"Recite the first half of Sumeru's history for me, would you?" That question had slipped past his lips an hour ago, and little had you known that it would bring so many terrible (and wonderful) surprises along with it.

In present time, small love-bite marks littered your jaw and throat, proof that Alhaitham was doing a lot more than just teaching you basic Sumerian history. The Scribe's hands were currently resting on your waist, just above your navel; his warm breath slightly tickling your ear as he leaned down to praise you. More or less.

"Hm. I see you're getting better, now that you have a bit of.. encouragement."