"You're teaching me alchemy?"
He seemed surprised, and looked around his laboratory. "Can you not see what I'm doing here?"
"But alchemy -- it's crap. I mean, it's like magic, not science. "
"Alchemy's accomplishments are sadly forgotten, and yes, magic is an excellent description for things that you have no basis to understand. As for science -- " Myrnin made a rude noise. His eyes had taken on that hectic shine again. "Science is a method, not a religion, yet it can be just as close-minded. Open minds here, Claire. Always open minds. Question everything, accept nothing as fact until you prove it for yourself. Yes?"
She nodded hesitantly, more afraid to disagree with him than convinced. Myrnin grinned at her and slapped her back with stinging force.
"That's my girl, " he said. "Now. What do you know of this theory of Schr?dinger's? The one about the cat?"
###
Myrnin didn't go weird until the very end of her time with him, when he was -- she thought -- getting tired. She had to admit, there was something fun about working in his lab; he had so much passion, so much enthusiasm for everything. Even for scaring her silly. He was like a little kid, all nervous energy and fiddling hands, quick to laugh, quick to cut her down if she made a mistake. He liked to mock, not correct. He thought if she had to figure it out for herself, she'd learn it properly.
She checked her watch and found it was almost eight o'clock -- late. She was supposed to be home by now. Myrnin was ignoring her, temporarily, as she copied out tables of incomprehensible symbols from a book he said was so rare his was the only copy left. She yawned, stretched, and said, "I need to be going. "
He had his eye fixed to what looked like a clunky, ancient microscope. "Already?"
"It's late. I should go home. "
Myrnin straightened, stared at her, and she saw the storm forming in his expression. "You are dictating to me now?" he snapped. "Who is the master? Who is the student?"
"I -- sorry, but I can't stay here all night!"
Myrnin walked toward her, and she couldn't even recognize him. No more manic energy, no more humor, no more sharp, brilliant anger. He looked troubled and clouded.
"Home, " he repeated. "Home is where the heart is. Why don't you leave yours here? I'll take very good care of it. "
"M-my -- heart?" She dropped the pen and backed up, putting a big lab table full of chemical equipment between them. Myrnin bared his teeth and put down his fangs. Discovery Channel. King Cobra. Oh God, can he spit venom or something? His eyes flared bright, fueled with something that looked to her like ... Fear.