Grey’s last meeting with the petite Herbology Professor had ended a bit confusing and awkward, to say the least. Neither of them were in their best form, but Grey had noticed—at least what he had seen of the woman, as it seemed that she turning into a bit of a hermit—was that Catherine had still not really bounced back from whatever had brought her down. Grey was not an expert in human emotions, save his own, considering his lack of social skill. Yet, he could observe this. However, the man did not know what really to do given the pair’s history. His only idea was to perhaps bring Illyana in on the issue, if she did not already notice her friend’s decline—they were friends weren’t they? Grey wasn’t too sure. But it wasn’t in the man’s nature to just step into things like that. So confusing.

His own emotional turmoil from that day had since calmed down. The day of his mother’s death he had left the school and drowned himself in some alcohol (one of the few times he ever drinks so hard) and just allowed the pain to flow. The following days, past the hangover, Grey had picked himself back up. It was hard to move on with life, but he had been doing it for years now. The date was always now a bitter reminder to her, a sort of slap in the face that she had been dead for so long now. However, this was the way of things. We live and then we die. Some may try to stop it or forestall it for as long as possible, but death always came. It was a difficult mistress to accept.

That night Grey had just returned from his patrol of the corridors for students. He didn’t mind doing the patrols, though some Professors found walking the corridors at night to be boring or daunting. It was usually quiet and allowed him to clear his mind for a while. He had only been in his quarters maybe thirty minutes when there was a soft knock at his door. Confused for a moment, Grey shook his head and walked towards the door only to pause to pick up a light ginger cat from where it had been weaving around his ankles in attempt for attention. “Yes, yes, you’re wonderful. Now calm down,” he murmured to the feline, pressing a light kiss to its head as he scratched Shade’s head, the cat purring happily.

He pulled open his door to find Catherine standing there, a little worse for wear. He blinked, staring at the woman, his hand still scratching Shade’s ear. He knew he should have been surprised by the woman’s appearance there, but somehow given their history he couldn’t find it in himself to be.

Grey was not certain what it was with this particular Professor and her habit of visiting with him in the near middle of the night. Granted, this was the second time (and thankfully she was not yelling at him this time), but considering he could not attribute such actions to any other staff member it did place her on a different grading scale. Yet, it was still confusing that she would choose so late a time to come. Catherine could not have known that he would still be awake, and it did not seem like she was intoxicated this time. So frankly, Grey was not certain what her driving motivation here was. But then, Grey was not an expert in the feelings and motivations of other people.

“Just me and Spade,” he answered, stepping aside and motioning for the petite Professor to enter. He ran a hand down Spade’s back, the feline continuing to purr happily with the attention, before he closed the door after the woman’s entrance. “Ah, thank you,” he then said, a little confused, in response to her gift. He placed Spade down on a chair, the cat curling up, but still keeping an eye on his master, before extending a hand to accept the plant. Grey could not say he had ever seen the plant before, so it was something new to him, and that in itself was interesting to the Potions Professor.

However, Grey’s attention was still on the other professor. She was still suffering from whatever had been bringing her down. Grey could not say he knew the cause of the woman’s decline, after all the two had never actually spoken anything through. “Would you like a cup of tea or something else to drink?” he then offered. His mother had instilled some manners into her stoic son.

The apology had caught the Professor slightly off-guard. He had still been trying to figure out the other’s reasoning for coming. He was still a little befuddled with this development. Surely an apology could have waited for a more decent hour of the day? Grey could not know how the woman was feeling or how much courage it took her just to come down to his quarters as she had. So the man was justified a bit in his confusion. It was all a bit on the odd side of things, and for Grey that was equally as odd considering his lack of social interactions with the rest of the school staff. He primarily left them to their own devices, stepping in only when called or needed, and they left him be unless he was needed. It had been a working equation until Catherine had decided to break it. The man still wasn’t certain why this was, or why the woman seemed so keen to ruin the delicate balance that had been in place. They confused each other it seemed.

“Neither of us were in best form,” Grey replied, dismissing her apology, “there is no cause for apologies there.” It had been something the man had been dismissing from his mind. The situation had been odd to say the least, and he would rather not dwell on what had been happening, especially in the latter moments of that meeting. After all, up till that point, in regards to Catherine’s panic attack, Grey had only done what any sane person would have done. At least, the man assume as much.

With Catherine’s refusal of a drink, Grey’s hand in hospitalities were rather diminished. He was not a skill social speaker. He spoke when spoken to and if there was a strong thread in the conversation, he could carry one on with another. But here, right now, Grey didn’t know what was expected of him. Instead of trying to fill the coming silence with useless blather, Grey reached down and started to scratch the feline behind the ear. Spade lifted his head into the man’s fingers, his eyes closing as he purred.

If he wasn’t already certain that it was possible, Grey would be wondering if his interactions with the Herbology Professor could possibly get any stranger. He wasn’t certain if it was just the pair of them, Grey himself, Catherine, or a combination of all of them together that created this weird mixture. However, it was not a mixture that the Professor was particularly interested in investigating. Especially given that the time was drawing close to the middle of the night or past it. It was strange to think that he almost preferred their interactions before this entire escapade had started. Things seemed much simpler to think about compared to then than now.

The man’s eyes narrowed as Catherine spoke. He really was out of his element here. Grey honestly did not understand what Catherine was trying to convey, passed her possibly being dead-tired. He was no mind reader, and empathy towards others were difficult for Grey. So really, the man was at a lost on how to handle this situation. However, his instincts were telling him to back away and get the woman out of his quarters. He wasn’t certain of any of this. The man couldn’t know that Catherine thought she had a part of his own grief inside of her, a foreign concept to the man. In their last meeting he had done nothing, although his body had reacted against whatever the woman had been trying to do. However, he certainly had not pushed any of his own feelings into the woman. He had been a hard wall to her intrusion that time—so it had to be something with the woman. Whatever that was.

“And what do you want me to do about that, Catherine?” he asked her, his voice cautious. He was seriously contemplating the idea of the drugging the other Professor with a sleeping draught—if he could only convince her to something to drink… but that had already failed…

Grey truly did not understand people. And unfortunately, most people did not really understand Grey. So the man was often left bumbling his way through society. He was competent for the most part, but not so much when it came to deeper emotions or being expected to know what was going on inside another’s head or their own emotions. Unfortunately, with Catherine it seemed that the petite Professor had high expectations from the Potions Professor. Expectations that were ultimately going to be crushed—and were crushed if the resignation in her tone was any indicator. However, there wasn’t much Grey could actually do about that. He was a stoic person by nature, and his desire not to allow others too close to him only made this characteristic all the more apparent. The man could not help what he was. Some people understood his nature—Illyana seemed to have an inkling of it—whereas others, like Catherine, seemed to have no clue and think him just cold and unfeeling to the world.

However, it seemed something was working in Grey’s favor. Perhaps it was presumptuous of him, but the man had every intention of acting on his earlier inclination of drugging the Professor. The difference though was that it wasn’t done out self-preservation for himself, but rather for the woman’s own good. Grey had eyes, and he could make connections. It had been pretty obvious that the Herbology Professor had been abusing herself of late, since she took personal time off.

“Of course,” the man nodded, drawing his hand back from Spade before using it to motion to a seat on the sofa near her. “Take a seat, you look ready to collapse,” he said, his tone more commanding rather than polite. He knew it was only luck that he had a vial of a sleeping draught on hand. Mostly for himself, although he had yet to ever used it. The man was conflicted with his own nightmares and nights of insomnia. As such, some would consider it strange that he kept it among his kitchen wares, but then he was always one to take such things with a cup of tea or other beverage.

His back to the woman, Grey easily concealed his actions as he filled a dark colored mug partially with water and adding an appropriate dosage to the cup. With any luck, the other Professor would drink enough for the affects to occur relatively quickly—he would not allow her to return to her quarters with the chance of her dropping off part ways there. Returning Grey held the mug out to woman. “With a bit of mint to help,” he stated, “don’t stand up until your stomach is settled,” he then instructed with the tone of the former apothecary that he was.

Watching the woman drink from the mug, Grey had not really expected her to guzzle down the water. He had been more expecting her to sip it, perhaps not even finishing it all. As such, the dosage of sleeping draught was perhaps a little higher than it should have been. It did not take the potion long to react within the Professor’s system before she was feeling the potion’s affects. It was only Grey’s reflexes that allowed him to catch the mug as it fell from the other Professor’s hands, it dripping some of the remnants onto his hands. However, the man was not so quick to catch the woman. Her abrupt standing seeming to catch him off guard. Catherine did not remain standing long, however, before she fell back to the sofa, missing it really, to land on the floor. Time seemed to move so slowly in the moment that Catherine was out cold before he even really had a chance to react.

He sighed quietly before tilting the mug in his hand to look inside of it. “A bit too much,” he murmured to himself before setting the mug down on the end table.

Regarding the crumpled, sleeping form of Catherine, Grey stood in thought for a few moments. He was trying to figure out what the best course of action would be. He would prefer to send her back to her own quarters, but he was not familiar with them nor did he want to be caught carrying the unconscious Professor in the corridors. So, that eliminated that course of action. So he was left with the woman here—he could only hope when she awoke she would be not become hysterical—or at least too hysterical for having been drugged and/or falling asleep in his quarters, again.

Deciding upon a course of action, Grey knelt down and with a small grunt, lifted the woman from the floor. He glanced at Spade, who had been watching the entire event from his spot on the chair. “Don’t give me that look,” he scolded the feline. Grey did feel slightly guilty for his actions, but he could only reassure himself it was in the best interest of the other Professor. Just as his placing her into his bed. He removed only her shoes before tucking her into the large bed and leaving the room. It seemed his night would be spent on the sofa. A grim line settled over the man’s lips at this thought, but he shook it from his mind before making himself comfortable and settling in for the night. The last thing Grey noted before sleep claimed him was Spade settling over his chest, his purrs vibrating against Grey’s chin.

The morning came and it found Grey with a crick in his neck and a nose full of cat fur. It was a blessing that he was not allergic to cats—or animal dander—as otherwise Spade would have killed him a long time ago. The feline had the annoying habit of sleeping directly under his chin, over his chest, and if given the chance, directly over one’s face. Pulling the feline up onto the backing of the sofa, Grey sat up and wiped a hand down over his face. A glance at his watch told him the hour was early. It took the man one groggy moment to put the events of the prior night back into place in his mind. He shook his head with a small groan. With how fast and affected Catherine had been by the potion, he knew could give a good estimate that she would not be awake for a few hours more yet.

Really, what had he been thinking in that moment? Well, Grey knew exactly what he was thinking, and likewise if given the option he would do it again. It had been for the woman’s own health, and not for Grey’s own sanity—that part was really just a perk of drugging the witch asleep. She had been rather out of it and confusing. Grey was ill-equipped to handle those type of emotions. Catherine had surely knocked on the wrong door if she wanted something else. However, unfortunately she seemed to be tying events towards the Potions Professor and so the man found himself pulled into this twisted web of confusion and emotions out of his skill set.

With a sight, Grey began his morning routine, settling into the living area of his quarters to finish grading the homework of his students. He had immersed himself in his work enough that he had not noticed the passing of the time. So, when Catherine called out his name, Grey had still been seated at his desk, reading an essay, quill in one hand, while his other rested on his lap, scratching the neck of Spade. Sometime during that time a House Elf had brought lunch around, as it was not uncommon for Grey to forget about meals when he sat down to grade.

As it was the man only made a non-committal noise of “Hm?” while he made a mark on the essay.