As gracefully as possible

"Thank-you Ms. Naylor," You turn to acknowledge her graceful concession, but the sudden twisting motion causes your knee to buckle and a grimace of discomfort flashes across your face instead of the smile you were planning. Her hand shoots out again with remarkable dexterity grabbing you just above the elbow and stabilizing you as you totter.

"Are you well Mr. Hawkfeather?" Her normally cool reserve, discarded briefly in concern.

"Yes, thank-you." You **** a smile to your face. "I have a bad knee, Ms. Naylor. It plays tricks on me."

"Come sit down." Still gripping your arm firmly she leads you out of the bathroom and settles you in the chair by the window. You let her direct you without protest as you limp through the bedroom; the prickly fierceness that Ms. Naylor wears like armor is gone, replaced with a firm gentleness that you find hard to fight.

"Do you need some ice?"

"No, thank-you, it's better already." You assure her as you experimentally swing your legs a few times to prove your point. Although you hate letting anyone see you like this, the effect your unexpected vulnerability has on Ms. Naylor is noteworthy. Maybe you should have limped into her office with a cane in the first place, things might have been easier all around. Carefully climbing back to your feet confirms that whatever popped out of whack in your knee is once again working normally, you pick up with what you had been about to say back in the bathroom.

"And please don't bother your maintenance crew on my behalf, I can clean this place up myself. Your people have enough to do with students moving in." Ms. Naylor starts to protest, but you interrupt her before the words get out. "Ms. Naylor, my mother taught me never to let anyone do my cleaning for me, she always says pushing a mop will keep me humble."

"Very well Mr. Hawkfeather," Ms. Naylor agrees after a thoughtful look of concern. "I expect you can use a little humility, most men seem to be lacking that quality." And just like that, Ms. Naylor resets her defenses with a decisive nod.

As you follow her slender form back to the main office you notice the Code of Conduct sitting on the table and you ask her about a replacement.

"Ms. Naylor, I searched online for a updated copy of the school's Code of Conduct but couldn't find it." Picking up the book from the desk and blowing the dust from its cover you show her the twenty-year handbook. "Could you send me one to look at so I don't end up using this antique."