Pretty. Sure.

Being a prefect had always seemed to Gwen like the proverbial double-edged sword: On the one hand, the additional responsibilities provided unique opportunities she might not otherwise have. She particularly liked, for instance, assisting the first years when she had been in fifth, and being in charge of the regular Ravenclaw study group. On the other, the position came with a less-than-ideal reputation, and some very tedious tasks. Her first year as a prefect, she'd absolutely loathed going on patrols, despite that Charles Xavier wasn't bad company; nobody wanted to be caught out of bounds, and when the halls were clear, all she could think of was how much time she was wasting.

Now, two years later and Head Girl, evening patrols were one of the favorite parts of her week. Over the last three years, she'd earned respect for being firm yet fair with her authority, and had learned that crime didn't always merit a punishment. She didn't dread finding someone doing something wrong, but had rather easily slipped into a leadership role as she'd gotten older, like a big sister to the entire school. And the boring parts? Those were a blissful break from an academic and social schedule that kept her hopping all week long.

The night was clear and crisp, fall beginning to give way to winter, and the halls had been mostly quiet. Hands tucked in her robe, she cast a sidelong glance to Steve beside her as they strolled through the halls, their footfalls softly echoing off the old stone.

"It's weird, isn't it, the way things change when you get older?" she asked with a curious cant of her head. "I used to hate this. Now it's the best part of my day."