Though Garamond seemed to still exude that aura of charisma and confidence, the past two years hadn't gone without changing Calibri (a bit). He was taller now, though the additional two inches still barely put him at chest level with the older man, and he looked less like a child trying to fill out his limbs than...a young man who would possibly just never have much musculature whatsoever and who should probably just accept that fact. (He probably already had.) Even so, the finely tailored clothes looked neither too short nor too tight, which was enough to make one wonder how Garamond could find out a person's size and measurements so easily in advance without apparently having seen the other party for over two years.

Nevertheless, Calibri stared down at the bundle of fine fabric in his hands with a look of bafflement, which, on Calibri, was just basically a mix between utter blankness and slight consternation. The cloth was light, durable and smooth to the touch, no doubt expensive, but the precise cutting and the unnecessary number of pieces in the ensemble looked cumbersome and entirely inefficient. It was therefore, Calibri cleverly concluded, probably part of this whole 'manners' stint that people were always so unnecessarily concerned about.

It didn't occur to him to protest, at least. He knew his standing or, more accurately, he knew his standing in relation to Garamond's standing, and considering that his feet were only touching Eldabaran soil because of this man's generosity, he didn't even have to wonder if perhaps declining was a viable idea. Instead, he lifted his head and asked, "Will today's missed curriculum be compensated?"