I love fanfics

The expedition sat down on the track (as well as on chairs, tables and - by chance - on the knees of Phantom Assa) and purposefully headed towards the gate. Ass frowned. When I thought about it, I decided that I hadn't frowned hard enough and started squinting. Father Browning, accustomed to everything, quietly met the eyes of the junior investigator, took a deep breath and began to admire the Milky Way. It was difficult, to put it mildly, in the shaky wagon of the Flying Gorlanders, and Phantom felt another attack of irritation...

Friday's session in the Yellow Room didn't work out from the start. First Ass was late, then distracted the psychoanalyst by the fact that he did not even bother to smell a hospital robe and lazily fell apart on the couch. Then came complaints about disgusting food, staff, a ban on drinking alcohol and smoking in the infirmary - "and she sits down with this tincture hawthorn, and beats it, and beats it!" As an exception, he had to be allowed to smoke in the room. Half an hour later, Harley discovered that the first task scheduled for today would not work...

Harley preferred to watch Perverts from a bird's eye view without encountering birds and other creatures circling over the magic school. The fact that the professor's motorcycle was flying solved the first problem, the loud roar of the engine - the second. Sometimes a mechanical eagle owl of Porrie Gutter was tied up behind Harley, but the robot still seemed not as unpredictable as living beings. Let him. That evening, however, Philimon did not keep him company. But on the second lap, Harley's attention was drawn by a tall white figure, waving furiously...

- And now? - No, no, no, no, no, no. - Nothing? - Not at all. - And what to do? - For the sake of everything... - Ass broke off without inventing a word that touches the soul. - I'm not treating you, you're treating me. Perhaps, solving a psychological problem with the help of hypnosis was not the best idea. Especially hypnosis, invented muddles... by magicians. However, he would not agree to be subjected to magic hypnosis in any case. There's something humiliating about applying magic to someone who isn't...

Harley accepted Amelie's chamomile only after he was convinced that there were no insects on it (chamomile). - Monsieur? - a questioning, cheerful, fearful look of dark eyes. Chamomile. Why this flower? It was possible to build at least one hundred assumptions based on different theories. You could finally cautiously hint that she was a freshman and studied with her at the same faculty as Saint-Aisley, who... No, that's not exactly what you should have talked about. And Harley carefully took the chamomile, trying not to notice how the thin fingers shake...