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Cricket seemed somewhat contented when she noted which students had left, and who was still remaining, seeming to fiddle with a long length of that transparent (and glowing...then again, she glowed in a way other glow-ers would be jealous) hair of hers. HmmMMmmm~

"Well, is anybody else going to leave or do I have a bunch of students who are here to hang onto my every last word?" she inquired, seeming to fiddle with the contents of her desk, though that gesture only proved to unleash even more of the creepy-crawlies who had ALREADY taken over a good chunk of the room.

Aiiieee!

However, she did want to know who was still hanging around.

Bugs. Bugs were decent enough, Malodore supposed, and an excellent addition to properly bloody nightmares of medical malpractice... though it thought perhaps the bugs should be more gritty and grungy, and less spectral.

Nevertheless.

"Infermiera, will our further courses have more... hands-on experience?" the plague doctor inquired, nodding to Nurse Cricket in what it hoped was a respectful manner.

Admittedly, Thackery hadn't meant to still be in Cricket's class after the majority of the other students had wandered off, but once he started daydreaming, it was kind of hard to stop. He supposed that he'd really been lucky that she didn't specifically acknowledge him, because that would have been embarra...ss...ing...oh Jack, his paper. He paled as he remembered the kitsunes and the general lack of any sort of legitimate answer on his paper. What a terrible first impression! Now she might hate him, and that would be awful!

"I, uh-" Again, he wrestled with apologizing, wondering if it would even do him any good at this point. Adding to his conflict was the fact that he was just as confused as his classmate - could he, perhaps, regain his favor and restore honor to the Cerberus name (which he had surely tarnished with that abominable submission) by staying a little longer?

But then came the bugs; rather, then came Thackery's realization that there were bugs, and that they had been here all along. Oh, oh no. THOSE were what he felt scratching behind his ears!? Not a dream-kitsune?!

He seemed especially pale as he gathered his things (only after debating leaving them, because they probably had bugs all in them, ughhh). Wide eyes stared at Cricket. If he seemed to be a little detached, it was probably due to another daydream of sorts - though this one was far more nightmarish. Fleas. The bugs in his mouth. It had taken so many baths and his room smelled like wet dog and the kitsunes were now wearing flea collars and he could not do this again.

"SorrysorryI'llbegoingnow," he blurted, hastily tiptoeing towards the door, fighting that morbid need to listen for possible crunches on his way out.

Lilura flinched a bit at the scolding. She wasn't use to that kind of thinking. She had thought of what others thought when she didn't speak their language. Mostly because everyone around her always spoke spanish. English was used only around guests or visitors.

"Ah sorry then," she flushed, a bit embarressed. She looked around at all the other students who where there, hoping she hadn't offended anyone. Then she looked back to the smaller girl. "So how long have you been here? I'm still trying to learn the grounds."

Tartalo had an idea that he wasn't approved for his term of endearment to Lilura by the look on the creature's face. He had been warned about this by Lilura's mother in a private meeting. It was hard for the scythe to understand why a simple word would cause such a disturbance. He cared for Lilura and would give anything to protect her. Is that not what a parent does? Her mother had tried to explain it but the poor scythe just got more confused. Perhaps it was a side effect of his animation, a reaped soul losing all sense of memory and emotional understanding at the time of death. Ah well, perhaps around this creature he would refrain from the term.

Cricket seemed to sigh. Well.. as much as any ghost could (given lungs weren't really a part of their figure), counting how many students had actually stuck around up until that point. There had certainly been a certain few who had bolted out the moment they realized she wasn't holding them captive. However, there had also been one that had bolted in, earning Sammy a look from the ghost.

"..." It was with a simple gesture that the professor offered the undead one of the papers that Shehk had been handing out earlier. "You will always be able to come and go from my class as you please. However, do take note that while I will not take offense to either coming or going, you may miss out on vital things I may share in your absence." she answered, glancing from Sammy toward Maritess.

"I also have no intentions to always say I have nothing more as early as I have today." she continued, slowly rising up from the seat she'd taken, some of the less spectral creepy-crawlies seeming to flee the scene as she moved, so with that it seemed that Cricket had had something up her sleeve for those who had stuck around for as late into the lesson as they had.

"The most basic of all critical skills is to know how to stitch. While it will not be the one that everybody will immediately need in a response, it is the one thing that is easiest to learn and, in a sense, may be applied to other things."

Just as the two centipedes which curled around her wrists at that moment had crawled from the glowing marks on her form, it seemed she stashed a LOT of stuff in there (enabled by her natural ability, fortunately), peeling out a few spools of thread, needles, and some very VERY thick fabric to set on every student's desk. Each student was given two pieces of fabric which were almost reminiscent of the lead bibs put on when one was getting an X-ray.

"I want you all to practice at being able to make those hold together. I do not require perfection in it. But you will see that when you move on to setting bones and bandaging, similar principles apply."

There was a reason why she'd chosen fabric that didn't really take well to sewing, however.

Shehk was currently leering at them. Couldn't the undead just skip this practice due to long periods of practical application?

(Hurr, good job to whoever it was who called me out on that ;P )

Sitting back down, Israfel gave Tess a look as if to apologize. He had been looking forward to ribbon decoration. Still, sewing he could do! It was a passion of his and-
and...
And this fabric was not fabric he would have chosen.

A frown did little to hide his disappointment in sewing materials chosen. Why not a nice Skellyglow green or Valhalla black? Then it dawned on him as he threaded his needle. This wasn't some kind of fashion show. This was medical. Medical as is, this was not meant to be in pretty colors, (besides skin tones and maybe blood red). He was supposed to sew...and this heavy material was supposed to be like...

"Aw man." He sighed as his needle sunk into the material the nurse had provided. A small shudder as he pictured having to do this to someone's body. Now he knew how some undead felt. His face twisted as he pictured such an event. Still, sewing he knew. So while his mind strayed, his hands made the motions, pinching the needle in and out of the fabric with only moderate difficulty.

Sadly, he was doing such a weak stitch it likely wouldn't hold. He'd be forced to do it again soon enough.

Ah, splendid! Malodore's beak dropped in an uncharacteristic grin as it picked up cloth - heavy cloth! - needle, and thread. Here was an example to display its skill...

The cloth, however, fought back a bit harder than Malodore expected. Though its hard mask could not screw up into a grimace of effort, the plague doctor definitely felt its bones creak as it forced the needle through the incredibly thick cloth. It was possible, of course, that some monsters would have flesh so thick and unyielding...

The point of the needle slid along one claw in a sharp rasp!, making Malodore wince. Though the needle couldn't pierce its claws, it could definitely scratch, and that was still painful. But at least this was genuine hands-on experience! Of a kind!

Much, much better than papers.

"Pliers?" Malodore cocked its head to one side. "I am sorry, signorina, but I do not. I do posses several fine sets of tweezers, however, if they would suffice. One of them is extremely heavy gauge."