Chapter 85: His Favorite Witness

The conduct office had three ordinary chairs and no useful place for Dante to stand above the conversation. He sat in the middle one while the staff member explained which account she needed. Jett had already supplied his own. Evan and Nell had been spoken to separately, and the event worker had described hearing the raised voices before coming to the annex. Dante was not being asked to decide the case. He found that both reasonable and slightly insulting.

"What did you see when you reached the doorway?" the staff member asked.

"The bar was across Evan’s upper chest. His other hand was behind him on the bench, and the far end of the bar was lower."

"Did you see it rise?" He remembered the scrape, the last step down the hall, and the line already pulled tight when he looked in.

"I saw it being held. I heard him tell her to put it down."

"What happened after you reached the doorway?" the staff member asked.

"I told her to lower it. She did." The staff member wrote that down. Dante waited while she checked the distinction against his earlier account, resisting the urge to make the pause easier with a polished version of himself.

"Evan said he had tried to leave," she continued.

"I heard them arguing before I reached the door. I didn’t see the first part. He told us afterward that he had reached for his notebook and tried to go."

That answer would not make him a better witness for either side. It would make him the witness who had actually been there. When the questions ended, he signed the account after reading it. Nell waited farther down the hall with her notebook shut against her lap. The ordinary pencil looked strange in hands he now remembered holding a line against another person. The university kept her away from unsupervised training equipment while the matter continued. She had already lost the event duties, and her offer to cover the immediate treatment bill had not closed anything.

Outside, she caught up with Dante beneath the covered walk. A maintenance sprite was replacing a cracked lamp cover above them, dropping screws into a cup held by another sprite who seemed to resent being useful.

"I’m sorry I made your week harder," Nell said.

Dante stopped before the steps. "You hurt Evan."

"I know," Nell answered, with the notebook held against her chest.

"Then say that part first. My week wasn’t the thing against the bench."

Her eyes filled, but she nodded instead of asking him to change the answer. When Evan came out with his folder, she apologized for restraining him and for his wrist. He listened, accepted neither an excuse nor a demand to forgive, and said he needed space. Nell gave it to him. Dante watched that ordinary step happen without a spell, wishing it had looked so simple before. Students passed them on the walk. Two slowed when they recognized Nell, then moved on with the unpleasant interest Dante knew too well.

He stayed beside her until she stopped staring at the ground. "You can still keep the ordinary notes if the session organizers agree," he said. "Paper doesn’t need you near a control."

"Would you still want me there?" He thought about the useful corrections she had made, the work she had done well, and the terrible way she had chosen to prove it mattered.

"Yes. That didn’t make what happened disappear." She held the notebook closer. He liked the relief on her face, and for a while he did not ask whether he liked giving it too much.

Jett joined them at the path toward the residence. He had brought the carrier plans from Lucan, who wanted to keep their successful design rather than take it apart before they had drawn it properly. He asked Jett whether Lucan had kept the hinged section assembled. The useful answer steadied the conversation: they could measure it properly, write down what had worked, and give the next students something better than a story about winning. Nell listened while Jett explained the parts, her attention returning to a task with a clear end.

Dante did not know whether that would help her make better choices. He could offer work without promising that work would erase the harm. When she asked if she should wait for permission before touching the paper plans, he told her ordinary notes were still ordinary notes. Jett looked relieved that neither of them needed a ceremony to agree on that. Nell offered to copy the dimensions. Jett agreed she could help with paper, provided the ordinary session lead approved it, then waited while Evan approached.

"I wanted to check the open practice times," Evan told Dante. "Lucan said the notes would still be available."

"They will," Dante said, keeping the open sessions separate from his irritation.

"And does that include the new room once it opens?" Evan asked.

"The open sessions will have space. Private team planning is different." Evan nodded. That should have ended it, but Dante remembered the joke at the party and the ease with which the man could make him feel examined.

"If every decision here needs arguing with, you might find another group more comfortable," he added.

Jett’s attention shifted from the plans to Dante’s face. Evan did not raise his voice. "I asked whether a promise would stay a promise. Then somebody put a bar against me for making you look bad."

"I told her to stop," Dante said, returning to the fact he preferred.

"You did. I thanked you for that too." The path seemed narrower with both facts standing on it.

Evan said he would use the open material and left for class. Jett waited until Nell had gone ahead before asking Dante a question without his usual grin.

"Did being right become a membership fee?" Jett asked, leaving the plans closed.

"He could try being less pleased every time he questioned me."

"Maybe he was just asking." Dante looked toward the library, where the high windows had once appeared from nowhere as he crossed the gate. He had thought a whole new world would mean leaving the old feeling behind, the one that made laughter sound like a door closing.

Apparently that feeling had applied for admission too. He took the plans from Jett and said they should keep the open session. Jett accepted the answer without pretending it settled the rest. That afternoon, Nell brought the next private planning list to their common-room table. She had included the people helping with the room, left space for additions, and placed Evan’s name at the bottom with a small question beside it. Dante read every line before answering.

"Not this one," he said, moving his finger past Evan’s name. Nell marked the choice neatly. This time she had asked, he had understood, and nobody could blame the empty chair on a misunderstanding.