Magic if you squint

Identical, minus the scars. Well, wasn't that something? So he was the mirror-world duplicate of one of his professors squadmates. It was sort of interesting, he supposed, only it didn't really mean much.

Havoc didn't really believe in fate or destiny. If something had happened to his squadmate--which was possible, because squads tended to be around the same age group--he didn't really care. He didn't care if he'd died or if he'd just gotten old and grizzled.

"Was he a mage? I assume from your reaction that he did not act similarly to me," Havoc said, getting the right answer from the wrong reaction. He was mostly correct in reading the professor's reaction as 'you're so different', but had entirely missed all the other implications that came with it. He simply assumed that if he acted similarly, then the other man's reaction would be different. He would probably have assumed that he was the same person, rather than acting so odd.

So repulsed, he decided was the best way to describe it.

Havoc didn't see any real issue with the teacher firing back with questions of his own. As far as he was concerned, the world would be a far better place if everyone just asked questions rather than sitting on them and hoping the other party would cough the information up on their own.

"My course load is specifically focused on helping me get my powers under control. While I believed that my powers were not magic based, I know too little of magic to rule it out. I decided to attend the class, knowing that even if my power was not magic based, it would at least let me rule that out," he said, clarifying his exact point. "Based on what you've said, I believe that my original assumption was correct, and that my own powers are not magic based."

Havoc wasn't entirely clear on the question. Was he asking why he was in the school? Was he asking what he did in a general sense? There were a lot of possible interpretations, and no real clues as to just what he meant.

"I'm a soldier," he began, which was generally where he started any time anyone asked what he did. Being a soldier was what he was, and everything else was secondary. "I was sent here to learn to bring my powers under control, so that there would be no risk of them becoming a liability in combat."

The whole question seemed very philosophical, and Havoc wasn't terribly good with that sort of thing.

Oh. That question made a great deal more sense, considering he was talking to a teacher who would know about powers.

Havoc lifted a hand, popping a quarter sized orb of flame into existence just above it. He was pretty good at making small things like that--really, he could make them on command--but anything bigger started to get a bit outside his area of expertise.

"I'm a pyromancer. Or pyrokinetic. Everyone seems to have a different term for it, but I can create and control fire."

Which sounded like magic, but wasn't as far as he could tell. There was some subtle difference that flew right over his head.

It occurred to him only a few seconds later that explaining what his power was didn't explain why he was there, really.

"My fire gets out of control if it's too hot, or if I try and make it too large and push myself past my limits. At that point I become unable to put it out, and I become a liability in combat."

The feeling was mututal. Havoc had always had an easier time talking about things that were clear in nature, and things like interpersonal relationships were about as far from clear as it was possible to be.

"I assumed as much," Havoc confirmed at the explanation. "Although I wasn't clear what it was about magic classes that might be able to assist. Certain skills seem useful even if I don't possess the power in question."

And the knowledge. The knowledge was important too.

Notably, Professor Creighton seemed significantly more relaxed than he had a short while earlier. That probably meant it was a good time to leave, to end everything on a good note.

"Thank you for your time. I'll continue to attend class as usual, since you believe it will be useful," he said, hesitating for a moment.

Was a salute appropriate? He was former military, so Havoc decided it would be, snapping out a quick salute. Even so, he didn't wait to be dismissed, simply waiting for some kind of confirmation he was free to go before departing himself.