AN: I do not own.

Pigeon remains with him as the other faculty members file out.

Crane, hunched, stares at his knees.

"Thank you."

It's just louder than a whisper.

Crossing to the younger man's side (he can never unsee his student, silent in class but growing louder in the office, slowly finding courage to voice questions and ideas this community would never dare to explore otherwise), Pigeon doesn't answer but lets a hand rest lightly along his spine.

The reaction is silent, Crane curling forward just slightly as he presses his own hand to his eyes. He's shaking badly.

Pigeon invites him for a drink. Jonathan nods, doesn't speak.

They leave together.