It was almost as if a sixth sense had come into play when someone seemed to appear out of nowhere beside Cian. He opened his eyes, confused at what had awakened him since there was no bell ringing in the air. The pencil that had been moving on its own had fallen still and silent over the portrait, and was revealed to anyone that might want to see. He blinked hard, suddenly sensing movement to his side and feeling his heart leap when he looked around to the chair that had originally been empty and felt a combination of horror and shock arise, coupled with the slightest sensation of warm happiness he knew wasn't even real. Cian grabbed his sketchbook, slipping it under his bag and throwing his arms over the bag.

Once again the young art student felt his face grow warm. Though because it was Layland it was a mix of shyness, fear, and some now deep-seeded love. He turned away from Layland, hiding his sketchbook and tapping the top of his coffee cup. "H-hi." He managed. Speaking only became harder as time wore on. His exhaustion only made it more difficult, and a one-track mind that was full of images of Layland both real and imagined kept him almost blissfully unaware of the time and where he even was from one time to another. All Cian's subconscious was aware of was the overwhelming presence of people and eyes that could possibly be on him.