The Professor is snapped out of the rapture, the meanings seared in their brain, right behind their eyes... Such magnificence, a scope of wonder beyond any other, and yet... It was dread what they felt, scratching within their skull with twisted nails of misshapen emotion, doubt, swimming in a vast nothingness that proved to be quite more inhabited than it seemed at first glance. The tears are pooling in the goggles, so they take them off without replacing them with their shades, wiping the tears softly with a tissue.

Their eyes are the color of (natural) honey, pupils slitted like a reptile's, and in any moment they blinked. They didn't mind to show it, not now, not after that... That unprotected dive into the hidden depths of their own mind, given shape and weight in the form of a language than can't be forgotten once learned, that can't be ignored once pronounced...

They looked around. Their companions weren't doing any better either. And shared burdens, they say, lose half their weight. Maybe kinship is right what they all need...