Brennan Sorrengail stood looking at the large map in the Battle Brief room, gnawing on his lip as he looks over the hypothetical strategy that the professor had presented to the class earlier. Because of his signet — mending — he hadn't got a power to back him up when sparring.

A thud echos from oak door, and he sighs in exasperation, knuckles cracking as he clenches his fists. Damn interuptions. He walks over to the door, and turns the handle.

"Sorry, this room is currently—"