There she was, five days before the midterm exams, watching as a man she had considered a criminal acted like some sort of magical whizz in the kitchen, using all these knives and spoons and things to create cooking stuff she could barely comprehend. Before she could even notice that something had been dirtied, it was clean again, swept back into a cupboard as if he’d never used it.

Erica, being the kind of cook that burns milk and cereal, was left in a silent stupor the entire time until he placed a plate of it in front of her.

With just a whiff and a taste, a surreal realization set in.

Aha… So that’s what this was, then.

Kreig here must be some sort of cook/artist genius who dropped out of high school to focus on his art or something, but then when the social checks stopped rolling in and he realized he needed a high school diploma to become a world-famous artist, he decided to get a tutor or something. Maybe. Really, she was just making it up on the fly, hoping it’d suit the situation. If this was the case, which it actually wasn’t, she actually felt a little enraptured, what with being allowed into the private abode of such a person.

Ah, then again, the whole art thing was still up in the air, but… Either way, he was one heck of a fine cook. She ate gladly, though somewhat protective, shooting little glances at Kreig himself.

After all, what if he poisoned it? She hadn’t seen him doing any monkey business, but she was still generally suspicious of him.

In and out. Teach him, get out. Simple.

At the table, she didn’t speak a word. Neither did Kreig for that matter, but it still felt just a little awkward. Before she could so much as offer to clean the plates (no student of hers had ever made her lunch, she wasn’t used to this), Kreig had stood up, cleaned the plates in a matter of seconds, and made to wander back to his room. No room for questions or suggestions. He was a… strangely assertive man, that was for sure. In a silent kind of way.

Unlike any of her former students. She followed him.

The rest of their session together was… Simple in format, really. They checked through all the books again, made sure he really (really) knew next to nothing about anything, and then got to reviewing what he did know.

“You’re good at cooking and art, what else would you consider your strong points considering everything we’ve discussed so far?”

Cooking would mostly qualify him for home economics, though it wasn’t a subject he was taking in his final grade. Art was, but she had no doubts about his grade there. That left her with everything else. About a dozen subjects, five of whose textbooks she had brought today, and among those, she was sure Kreig must be knowledgeable in some subject. You couldn’t get as old as he was without learning something. Anything.

Kreig stared at her for a second, those empty vacant eyes of his growing even more distant, until he finally levelled his gaze with her. “None.”

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...Alright, that was. Uh. Not very promising.

“What about…” she grasped at a straw, hoping he hadn’t just had his body ballooned up out of nowhere, “aren’t you good at P.E? Physical Education? Such as being strong and fast.” Not a reach, considering he was built like a castle. Good deduction, Erica! That’s sure to get him nailed down!

“...I’d say I’m rather strong.”

-Nice! Good! This way, Erica wouldn’t have to do any of the dreary P.E related stuff she so dreaded. It was horrible. She had no condition, and although she had grown to accept it (not everyone can be a speedy sprinter), having to try to teach someone with better condition than herself would be an absolute plight. This way, she could just note down an A and be done with it!

Ah, co-operation. What a delight.

“Great! Okay! Anything else? Let’s say… Know anything about philosophy? Plato and Sartre or whatever?”

He shook his head. Alright, that’s a bust.

“Any chance your painting has made you learn anything about, for example, time periods from the view of art and artists?”

“...”

She took that as a no.

“...Alright, uh, do you speak any language other than English?” she asked, mostly just to get it out there.

“I speak Mandarin and German as well, alongside a little Afrikaan. Nothing eligible.” Now that had her surprised. Oho? Not just a second language, but a third on top of it? Impressive for someone who seemed entirely disconnected from the regular curriculum. The languages were rather spread-out, too, pretty much giving him linguistic access to most parts of the world. Asia, Europe, the Americas, and parts of Africa. A very good language palette if one were, say…

-Secretly a former master artist and chef on the run from the authorities after having toured the entire world, finally finding himself in America, trying to make do by getting a degree through the help of a tutor.

Right. That had to be it! That’d explain his quiet confidence and everything else, too! Oh, how clever she was, uncovering this entire ruse through a mere half-a-day there! Surely, if she were to continue tutoring, obviously not because she actually wanted to, merely for the sake of curiosity, she could uncover the entire mystery behind it. Every aspect of who Kreig Wiedemann was, should his very name not be an alias.

Lost in her wild fantasy, she forgot to even ask Kreig if he actually could speak three languages. It was the truth of the matter, but for Kreig, watching his tutor spiral into a hunched ball of cackles was… Mildly concerning.

“-Okay! Any other hidden talents I should know about?” she said in such a drawled-out voice that Kreig was at a loss for words.

“None.” He said it as starkly as he could, all to make sure she wouldn’t poke at him any more. The idea of having to explain to her that he was especially proficient in out-of-combat physical interrogation didn’t quite appeal to him. She seemed to slump a bit at the refusal, but once both she and Kreig got back to the work at hand, they did pretty well.

Sure, no actual work was done, it was just their first day, but his tutor introduced him to how they’d work together, what they’d do and when he should ask for help. The basics of tutoring. Kreig listened intently, trying to really understand it. He didn’t do too well, but since he knew his tutor was a nice woman, he also knew that she probably wouldn’t mind if he asked her to reiterate at a later date. All things considered, she seemed like a much better tutor than his former one.

Though… That could all change, as many things did. Just meeting her changed nothing, and he still planned on dropping the whole situation sometime next week.

...He’d see about it.

The clock hit 14:50, and that was a time his tutor considered proper. She stood up, left the textbooks on the table, said she’d bring more tomorrow, and walked to the door, accompanied by a silent, thoughtful Kreig. Once they were at the door, once it was open and she stepped out, only then did he speak, after long consideration.

“Tell me, tutor…” She turned to him, eyes full of cautious wonder. “-Have you any name for me to call you by?”

Her brows shot down, a frown marring her face, before her face suddenly did a complete 180, eyes and brows flashing up in shock. “Oh-! Oh, uh, yeah! Of course I do!” she smiled, “it’s Erica. My name is Erica Hildebrand, glad to be your tutor! Call me Erica though, a few of my other students feel like it’s disrespectful, but tutoring and teaching are different things. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kreig.”

He nodded. “Well met, Erica.”

And that was that.