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Reclaiming small portions of runic power here and there had been promising, but it was not quite enough, and Mimsy still found herself redirected to projects and duties that she never would have opted to prioritize. Thankfully, books and pens did not require any runestones or external power sources, so her time was consumed by theorizing and attempting to bridge the gaps between hypotheses and reality.

It was not unusual for her to carry an armful of books and research through the hallways of the labs, so her motions were almost on autopilot while she diverted her energy towards more pressing things, mental checklists of experiments that needed tending to, determining which steps needed to be prioritized, settling on--

She abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway, turned towards one of the rooms, and slowly walked inside, pausing again once she was just past the doorway. Teeth clenched, refusing to breathe, she awkwardly shifted the books into the crook of her left arm and cautiously tugged up the sleeve on her right, exhaling slowly at the sight of the scar on her arm. Its existence meant an 86.4% chance that this was not an alternate reality.

Comforting in one sense, puzzling in another: why, then, was Robert wearing glasses, reading an actual book, and doing so willingly by all appearances?

One of her own books slipped out of her arms and landed with a noisy thump at her feet.

"...what?" she eloquently asked, needing substantially more information or context to fully comprehend what was happening. There was still a very good chance that this was a divergence from the universe that she was most familiar with, which couldn't be discounted; whatever the case, she just waited and wore a look of confusion, not even moving to pick up the lost book.

As Mimsy might have expected, Robert found his way to her. That much seemed normal, even if it was not exactly the same as responding to calling his name, but it was close enough to be counted as a naturally scaled improvement instead of an irregularity. If this was in fact reality, however, this was all another significant leap that she had not accounted for.

This was going to require some adjusting, no matter the circumstances.

She reached up to tentatively tap the bridge of his glasses, hurriedly pulling her hand away again, as if she'd touched something that might bite her. Tangible. She wasn't seeing things.

"Yes. I am fine, as far as I am aware, but..." The book on the floor was filled with sensitive information that she couldn't allow some kind of otherworldly doppelganger to see, so she tried to stealthily slide it back towards her with her foot. It made a terrible scraping noise, and she spoke again to cover it up. "Your actions and appearance are atypical. Please do not consider this a complaint, because it is absolutely not, but I do request an explanation."

The remainder of the books were clutched tightly to her chest as she waited, biting her lip with thoughtful concern.

The chances of an alternate reality steadily began to decrease as he continued to speak, and the careful stance and attempts to be hyper-aware of every little sign or scrap or evidence began to relax and fade. Mimsy gave him a crooked little smile as he made a mention of her commentary on glasses. What a truly precious way for him to have tried to improve her results.

It was working effectively, of course.

She raised her eyebrows as he explained that there had been an 'issue', which came as a legitimate surprise. He spent a tremendous amount of time working in the infirmary - with that kind of dedication, how could there have been an issue?

Then it all made sense, with the mention of a test. She gathered from the involvement of books that it was not a test of practical application, and the thought of Robert even touching a written exam was admittedly laughable. Before following him back into the hallway, she picked up the book she'd dropped and held it more closely this time.

"A test? When was the last time that you successfully took a test?" Taking a test was very different than being tested, and she chose her words to reflect that. "Are you to learn all of this on your own, or would you benefit from some assistance? I may have a recommendation."

They never let her be a tutor. They never let her be a TA. She told herself that this was fulfilling that petty desire of control over the distribution of knowledge to her lesser peers, even if it didn't feel like that. At all.

The admission of his test-taking ineptitude was largely unsurprising, though Mimsy was now entirely unsure how he'd made it through school. She didn't think that she wanted to ask for clarification on that portion. That seemed like something that was best to leave unknown.

Offering her assistance was meant to provide an illusion of choice, at least, but his sudden resolution to quit meant an entirely different game. No more options, if he couldn't be responsible with his own decisions. Fortunately, this wouldn't dismantle any advancements; if anything, it would be better this way.

She narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve.

"No. This is something that you want, and you know that. Direct the stubborn determination that you have for quitting towards learning the requisite information. You are fully capable: it is memorization and repetition, and a year is an incredible amount of time to prepare for one written test. If you feel as if you are not capable, request my assistance until it no longer feels that way." Her hand moved to his shoulder, and she used it to support herself as she leaned closer, lowering her voice to a sulky murmur.

"You don't want to give me the impression that you will have no option but to quit when something feels impossible, do you?"

Some methods of learning felt more intuitive to some people than others, so it was not very jarring when Robert said he'd never tried to memorize any information. They could explore other avenues of learning - a simple solution.

But when he continued his explanation, all of the plans that she had been so carefully setting out ahead of them were halted, her thoughts disrupted entirely. Couldn't read? There was no simple solution for that. Mimsy had no idea how to even approach that. How had she failed to learn this fact? She had never seen him with a book, but her first thought had never been to question his ability to read at all. It was such a crucial skill, so important to the foundation of her existence, which now felt shaken in the presence of someone who had gone so long without it.

Her panicked breath caught in her throat, coincidentally aligning with his affirmation that he would do anything she asked. That opened a doorway to the capability to do anything that she could have imagined, but she only felt hesitation in lieu of excitement.

Practical would have to come before experimental for now, apparently.

"All right," she slowly began, taking a firm hold on his arm as she led him across the hallway and into the vacant room. The room resembled something closer to a chemistry classroom than a room for private tutoring, but this would have to suffice. She nudged a chair away from one of the tables with her boot, freeing up enough space to get to it, and nodded in its direction.

"Sit." Pausing long enough to blink once at the chair, she reconsidered and attempted to get a bit more to work with. "Then briefly elaborate upon your current level of reading comprehension."

The mention of Clarice added another tally in Mimsy's favor, another task she could take over for her benefit, despite how lengthy that list of tasks was becoming. Under the assumption that Robert had not ever been blind, she figured that he needed the glasses to be able to properly read, and pushed that aside into the category of curiosity that encompassed things that should have been noticed or addressed before this point in his life.

"If you insist upon going without your glasses, I will insist that you wear them more frequently while you are not reading, and at all times when you are. The strain on your eyes will be less severe without periods of adjustment. I don't know why you chose not to wear them after my comments anyway." She gave a tsk of disapproval and shook her head, falling silent to finish listening to him.

It was hard to maintain that silence as she listened to him read aloud, and she struggled between wanting to correct him and wanting to make varied sounds of disapproval. He'd tried, though, which was supposed to be admirable. She mentally repeated that on a loop.

To avoid showing him the inevitable 'oh goddamnit, what have I done' expression on her face, she turned to set her books down, composing herself and folding her arms before looking at him again. This was going to be complicated. It already was complicated, but the task of solving this was growing more and more difficult as the actualities of this situation were slowly uncovered.

The complexity was multiplied by her lack of teaching experience, which was handled in a way that was different from just explaining something. What worked before? She frowned, trying to recall the analogies she'd used to introduce basic principles of physics and aeronautics. Kisses. Soviet space dogs. One of those was a limited stock of options, and the thought of using physical actions as a consistent teaching tool felt like it might be going against many of the intellectual principles she valued and tried to uphold.

But there weren't many options here, and her resources were slim with the absence of power and portals. She bargained with herself that this would only last until she found another effective route. If it was short-lived, it wouldn't dismantle everything she stood for. Theoretically.

There was one way to find out, and this was an experiment.

She gingerly took the book away from him and sat sideways on his lap, wrapped one arm around his shoulders, then offered the book back to him.

"Show me where you intend to begin learning or memorizing, whichever you prefer to attempt. Before we begin: remember to concentrate." The stare that followed indicated that she was serious about the concentration part, if that was somehow not obvious already.

The mistake that she'd made was evident as soon as he reacted, and Mimsy froze with a startled noise when he pressed his face against her neck, fingers curling like the extended claws of a frantic cat when she thought she felt his lips. Last time, she had counted on him staying close and fixated; every concept she showed him had been written by her own hands or spoken in her own words. There was no book between them then, but there had been this time, and she had not prepared herself for so much touching. This was what she should have predicted, had she not fallen victim to her overconfidence again. He was still functioning out of her area of understanding. She would have to work around it.

"I--ah..." She paused to clear her throat. "I see where the confusion might have come from, but I was referring to the study material when I told you to concentrate. Would it be more beneficial if I read it to you?"

Frowning, she pulled away from him and nudged his chin up with the back of her hand, attempting to search for an answer to something in his eyes. When it became tragically obvious that she had absolutely no idea how to tell what he was thinking, she gave in and asked anyway.

"Are you really going to corner me into playing 'teacher'? That is not very imaginative - though I suppose 'doctor' wasn't, either." She shrugged. "If it is the best way to assist you, however, we can explore that avenue. I doubt its effectiveness, and suspect that you will remain distracted, but that is clearly going to be an inevitable problem. Unless..."

She settled herself into his lap again, giving the discarded book on the floor a longing glance before her eyes returned to him.

"...you would prefer to spend significant amounts of time in the span of the next year with someone else who would assist you with studying?" There was no change in her voice this time, though it was fairly apparent that she was pulling the same card again. No need to alter an effective method. "I am sure that it could be arranged, if you cannot direct at least a portion of your attention to your homework."