Cutty's eyes remained upon the somehow feminine rock, and found it eerie how he regarded it as feminine. Did Professor Flamsteed want him to say hello to the rock? Was that what was going on here? Cutty swallowed. "Hi, Pebbles." He said really fast remembering the dance class where he'd met Professor Flamsteed for the first time. He was socially speaking prone to loud & oddly placed bursts of enthusiasm. Hufflepuff? No, the men were more inclined toward mellow temperament as per Cutty's observance of Alec Summers & Tobias Tempus. Gryffindor.

In an almost cautious manner, the Slytherin boy took a seat in the black leather chairs and listened as it made a squeezed rubber-like sound. He took in the sight of Airey Leighton Flamsteed and for a moment felt something like intimidation by both his physical size and his intellect. How old was the Professor? There weren't many visible wrinkles or creases about his face, which to Cutty indicated that the professor must've been a high achiever in school as well to have earned such credit amongst his colleagues & gotten published. And he was tall, TALLER even than Cutty's uncle. If he wanted to, he could probably fling Cutty right out the window of the tower and no one would ever know what happened. He failed to make the correlation between this thought and earlier ones he'd had of doing something quite similar to Fern Quimbley.

"You asked me to come to your office, Sir. To serve out my detention." He took up the teacup and brought it too his mouth and did not drink as it was too hot. He, instead, rested it in his hands above his lap where it tapped against the spool of floss. "I've brought the floss and the toothbrush. I see that what I did was wrong and I'm ready to repent for it, Sir." Did he rehearse this?