[ He wakes up in his own body. And, as it happens, in rather a lot of pain.
It is a long morning. Qrow helps him home; Glynda helps him to bed; he nurses tea, not cocoa, until the shivering passes. Oscar returns his Fluid and tucks in beside him in bed with no questions asked. They spend the day dozing, feverish and secondhand-feverish, aching and weary and glad to be alive.
It is good to be just Ozpin. Perhaps just-Ozpin had once been a person apart from the wizard, a boy who'd never even thought he'd be a Huntsman— but that is so long ago as to be childhood memory, faded and distant. Now he is simply himself. He can feel the background presence of Oscar's thoughts in his mind, but he can move his hand without having to consult anyone else for control, and right now, that feels like freedom.
He tiredly regards the disaster of his inbox, and texts Stanford Pines. ]
Stanford, I apologize for the unusual messages you received yesterday.
I was not in much condition to communicate by text, so turned to a young friend for assistance.
It seems she took the opportunity to play matchmaker.
[ This must, he thinks, come as reassuring news. He cannot imagine Stanford agreed to the date in earnest; the man must have known something was afoot, whether one of Deerington's tricks or a more mundane bit of chaos. Surely this will put the matter to rest. ]
2/22, text.
It is a long morning. Qrow helps him home; Glynda helps him to bed; he nurses tea, not cocoa, until the shivering passes. Oscar returns his Fluid and tucks in beside him in bed with no questions asked. They spend the day dozing, feverish and secondhand-feverish, aching and weary and glad to be alive.
It is good to be just Ozpin. Perhaps just-Ozpin had once been a person apart from the wizard, a boy who'd never even thought he'd be a Huntsman— but that is so long ago as to be childhood memory, faded and distant. Now he is simply himself. He can feel the background presence of Oscar's thoughts in his mind, but he can move his hand without having to consult anyone else for control, and right now, that feels like freedom.
He tiredly regards the disaster of his inbox, and texts Stanford Pines. ]
Stanford, I apologize for the unusual messages you received yesterday.
I was not in much condition to communicate by text, so turned to a young friend for assistance.
It seems she took the opportunity to play matchmaker.
[ This must, he thinks, come as reassuring news. He cannot imagine Stanford agreed to the date in earnest; the man must have known something was afoot, whether one of Deerington's tricks or a more mundane bit of chaos. Surely this will put the matter to rest. ]