"And you'd like us to wander around, looking for this source of weird energy?" you say.
"That is a…very unscientific way of putting it," Matron says, "but broadly correct. Besides, is there something more important that you could be doing?"
"A workout," Matron scoffs. "Give me three days and a handy thunderstorm, and I'll give you a better body than you could make with ten years in the gym."
"Homework?" Michelle volunteers. "Going to class?"
Matron snorts. "I never did my homework when I was a child, and my scientific papers have been condemned by some of the highest authorities in the land. Don't limit yourselves."
You turn, taking their words as a dismissal, but you stop when you hear Matron say, "Michelle."
The teenage zombie stiffens but otherwise offers no outward reaction.
Matron hesitates before asking, "How…how are you?"
Michelle nods. "Fine."
"You are keeping out of trouble? Doing well in your studies?"
"Well enough."
Silence spreads between the pair of them. You're aware of a lot of unsaid things that are being communicated nonetheless, and plenty of unsaid things that the two are keeping to themselves. You'd much rather not be here, though leaving the room seems as though it would be an undiplomatic reaction.
After some time, Matron lets out a sigh. The sound is half reluctance, half acceptance. "I am glad to hear it." They inhale before, suddenly businesslike once again, they wave a hand at you. "Now, away with you. I have much research that still needs doing."
Michelle turns, walking past you and out of the door without another word. You glance at Matron, who has turned to watch the teenage zombie as she walks away.
"They say that teenagers are always difficult," Matron says. For a moment, you're not sure whether they're speaking to you or to themself, but then they turn to look at you. "Do you think that this is the case, or would you say that this is a more…specific matter?"