Hawk took the proffered letter and squinted at it, while Teige turned away, continuing, "I know what it is a'ready, it's another R.I.T. notice. I've got to commit to doing something for them, or my visa's nullified. But I can't--"

He broke off. The letter was exactly what he said: a typed notice in English and Aetherian, warning that the deadline for Teige's visa election was approaching.

"...I can't go out for the fighting auditions," Teige mumbled. "I'll freeze, you know yerself, and t'en I'll be out on me ass. And t'en home to Ireland wit' me tail between me legs. More time I've wasted, more chance."

Hawk leaned back against the sink. "...Then why not do somethin' besides fightin'?" he asked, and didn't seem to notice Teige grit his teeth in response. "Translatin', somethin' like that."

"Sunshine, it JUST ent that easy," Teige said tersely.

"Wull, why not?"