The dead light shone into Capricornus' eyes, and he wiggled his useless wings in protest. "Blast," he internally exclaimed, "I don't even have the luxury to hide my face from Celestia. I suppose these are the downsides to having a paying job." He stretched his deformed wing, as if he were trying to increase its size. Alas, he'd have to face the new questions his students would give him, or make them fear asking him. He chose the latter, and wore an insecure scowl on his face as he grabbed a bag and walked out.
En route, he noted the weather. Overcast. No stargazing tonight.
On campus, he spotted his building, Alphabetical "A" for astronomy, and slipped into the corresponding number. It was a square, white lecture room, and Capricornus frown deepened. "This chaotic university doesn't have an observatory? Do they expect me to paint the stars on the cieling? I suppose that's what I'll have to do-- and they better at least provide me with paint." Upon this, took out a sheet of paper and wrote a note requesting black and white paint. He opened his door slightly and paisted it with a pound.