Wow, it's cold.

No duh, Katrina, you're wearing tight jeans, flip flops, a t-shirt and a tie. And you're outside, walking across campus. Why? Blame the fourth floor. Blame. The fourth. Floor. Why? The fourth floor is a male floor. Katrina has made friends on the fourth floor. The fourth floor had a party. They had drinks. And jello shots. And other nice little alcoholicy things. Why did smart and sensible Katrina go? Because, dear friends, Katrina was homesick and soon decided she didn't want to be. She thought she could party it out and then decided that these people were boring. Besides, no one was kissing her. They had enough girls up there to start a house of negotiable affection, and the pickings weren't slim enough to make small breasted, muscular Katrina look good.

She felt like doing magic. Professor Barclay knew stuff about magic. Ok, Professor, here she comes!

College is a house of negotiable affection.

You just don't pay for the privileges.

Alexander is on his way to his car, after teaching an hour-long session on magic in the upper floor conference room of Ferguson Memorial Library.

He is unaware of the disaster about to occur.

Let us take a moment of silence for the dear professor's ignorance.

Whozzat?

"Prof'ss'r Barclaaaaay? Eep!"

Who put that ground there?

Katrina falls quite ungracefully into the snow, managing to fling a flip flop out of immediate reach.

Well damn.

... oh, this is a problem.

Alexander looks. And blinks. And mutters something like 'Dear gods, what is she doing?'

Then he heads in her direction, taking off his coat and murmuring a small spell under his breath. (It will keep him from getting frostbite, at least until he can deposit Katrina... wherever she belongs... and retrieve his coat.)

"Miss Sullivan?"

This while throwing his coat over her.

"Yep?"

She's picked herself up, but is still quite happy to sit in the fluffy white cold stuff.

Now where'd that shoe go?

"Aha!"

"Get up, Miss Sullivan."

Alexander is... irritable.

And worried? I didn't know he did worried over anyone but Keye.

Goodness.

"You need to go inside."

"Okie dokie," she manages to get to her feet, but has slight trouble with the standing still part. So when Katrina tries to put on her flip flop while standing, she kind of forgets to keep upright.

"Hey, guess what!"

Tipping, tipping...

Naturally, that's Alexander's cue to catch her and attempt to wrap the half-forgotten coat around her.

Along with his arms, but that's an accident. He can't get the coat all the way around and hold her up without holding her, too.

This would be less of a problem if she were sober, wouldn't it.

Needless to say, she's kind of forgotten about the whole 'hey, let's do drunk magic!' thing and kind of just leans where she's landed. It is getting just a little cold..

"You're comfy.."

He closes his eyes.

"Miss Sullivan."

He stands her upright on her own two feet and off his chest. No, no, no, no. The temptation is not at all fair.

"Come along, let's get you indoors."

Where he can leave her in someone else's care.

"Mr. Barclay," she mimicks him, having wanted to do it ever since she talked to that dude in the theatre.

"But it's nice out here," leaning again, "let's just stay."

... blink.

"Let's not."

For one thing, this is entirely inappropriate. For another thing, he wants to. He knows himself well enough to know that that is not a good combination.

"Why?"

Good for you, Alex, she's standing on her own!

Because this isn't fair to him. Because it is bringing up old memories that he wants to forget. Because she's just a girl, and he is quite old enough to be her father. (He's actually a year younger than her father, but that's beside the point.)

"Because this is not an appropriate situation."

Pause.

"And you aren't at all dressed for this weather."

"Really?" she opens the coat to get a peek at her clothes. They're a little wet and clingy from the snow she practically rolled around in.

"Oh."

"Really."

This is not good. This is such a bad situation. He really doesn't want to be here, now, doing this, near her...

Gods.

"Come along, Miss Sullivan."

Doing what near her?

"Fine. Where are we going?" She latches herself to his arm. Ha.

Remembering. Wanting.

It's bad for his self-control, which we may have noted isn't the greatest under any circumstances.

"To start, back to the library."

Where they shall be in public and he can regather himself.

But the library's stuffy and boring, not like the party she was at earlier. Heeey, there's an idea! Professor Barclay is stuffy and boring, too!

"You should go to the party!"

Genius!

"Absolutely not."

He says that with perhaps a bit too much force.

Given her state, there is alcohol at the party. He doesn't need to be anywhere near alcohol right now.

And he doesn't party with students. It's principle.

"But it'll be fuuuuun," her voice is sing-song-y because she thinks she can persuade him, though we know that she probably doesn't stand a chance.

"No, Katrina."

He slipped again. Oops. He really didn't mean to call her by her first name. He really didn't.

If she ever catches him drunk, watch him call her 'Kevin.'

"Fine, sheesh," but she still leans against him. She's naturally a touchy person, really, so this probably isn't good for Alex.

She notices that he says her name again. What's his first name?

"What's your name?" Not, 'who are you,' though.

"Alexander Barclay."

Alexandra Mason. But of course he can't say that. Ever. At all.

"Dr. Barclay. Come along, Miss Sullivan."

His self-control is wearing thin. He wants to get rid of her before it's completely gone.

"Yeah," but she's 'yes'-ing to something else, "Stupid party," something like that.

"We should get take-out instead. D'ya like," head to shoulder, his shoulder, "chinese, Alexi?"