Hey, there! This is just a short story with Port and Oobleck because I like how they fit together and work off each other. ^^

Hope you enjoy!

The school is quiet at this time of evening, with the only sounds being the final shuffling of teacher's shoes as they leave their classes. Oobleck's eyes twitch a touch at the individual sounds each makes, easily able to tell each one by just the sounds. There goes Glynda down the hall, each sound of her heels as aggressive and stern as her personality… There's Ozpin and the added plik of his cane on the ground. It was a mix. Varying weights, varying shoe styles, varying…

Click, clack, clickety…

"Professor Peach should really fix that wonky heel, the poor dear..." He says to himself as he quickly shuffles his papers together, then taking another gulp of his coffee. It was almost time for him to be heading out, himself. He had things to prepare for. Especially with the Vytal Festival coming up, an event that he was told that he and Port had been accepted into commentating for. Quite an exciting prospect. Just them, the voice of the entire tournament. Voices to unite the kingdoms in honorable combat.

As he speeds around his desk to collect the rest of his things, he hears a sudden and firm knock on his door. Having been more focused on his things, he hadn't heard the footsteps coming up to it. Pursing his lips up a bit as he wonders who it could be, he bolts over to open it before the disruptive sound can ring through the room again. Honestly, it could be one of many people who felt like knocking as loudly as they could was necessary. Miss Xiao Long, the Winchester boy, Miss Valkyrie, and the list went on.

Expecting one of those, he's pleasantly surprised to see a familiar head of grey hair when he looks down just slightly. "Good evening, Peter."

The shorter man gives a deep chortle of a laugh, walking inside when Oobleck moves himself to let him inside. He walks with all intent to be casual about it, but an old friend could easily tell the excitement in his step. "Yes, yes, good evening to you, as well. Did you hear the news?"

"I did. As a matter of fact, Ozpin informed me of our status as commentators for the tournament just this morning. We were picked out of a pool of many potential hunters and huntresses. I even heard the purple newswoman was considered-"

"Bah." Port says, shaking his head a bit before putting up a fist to shake a bit. "Lisa Lavender makes a wonderful newscaster, but she's far too two-dimensional for something like announcing matches between future hunters and huntresses. She's never been in the heat of battle!"

The lime-haired man considers this for a moment, tapping his chin. "I suppose she is lacking in a certain character."

One of the other man's hands slap the thin man on the back, another laugh rolling up from his barrel chest as the unused hand twirls at his moustache. "No offense meant, of course. Regardless, she wasn't chosen, and it'll be just us up on that stage. Watching, with front row seats, the next generation of hunters and huntresses show their skills. It's the honor of a lifetime, old chum."

"The feeling is mutual, Peter." He replies, though raises an eyebrow slowly and adjusts his glasses a question comes up. "I am curious as to the reason that you are here, other than to tell me this fact. As I told you.. I did already know of this. I suppose you came here for more than that, however."

"I did, indeed." The greying man says in response, taking his hand off Oobleck's back to cross with his other across his chest. "I was thinking we head out to one of the bars to celebrate our opportunity. Just us two, as Ozpin and Glynda are busy. As they seem to be, usually. Perhaps we might talk a little. The school year has been exceedingly busy and we haven't had quite the time to talk as we normally might. I still don't know all the details of your excursion with team RWBY to Mountain Glenn. I certainly fought in the battle that followed, but I was not privy to the exact details of what happened prior."

"Ah, that. It was just an opportunity to learn more about the students. Running into the White Fang along the way was not the intended trajectory of that mission. Neither was the search and rescue operation that followed, nor the train battle-"

"Barty, you're spoiling all the good parts." Port reminds him, calming the other man's rapid speech with a firm voice. "To the bar, first. Then, we will talk about the mission. A good, stiff drink always makes for a better story, I always say!"

"Usually when you're nearing a homeostasis of intoxication."

The other man harrumphs, mustache drooping a touch. "Well, now, you're taking all the fun out of it."

Oobleck chuckles as he walks over to his desk, picking up his small suitcase of supplies from it's spot on the desk. "Very well, I will indulge your request. It has been quite a while and it is a special occasion. Just be sure not to let it be a repeat of the last time we went to a bar. I do not think the students need that kind of ammunition, should they see the hangover you have in class tomorrow morning."

"A hangover is just a weak body unable to handle a good drink." Port replies as they begin to walk out of the classroom.

There's a bit of idle chat between them as they make their way to the off-campus bar in the same city. Idle chat turns into the description of what happened during the mission, inevitably turning into tales of youth, glory, and the past. A well-treaded topic, but nostalgic nonetheless. It's long since gotten dark outside, evening swallowed up by night. Port clangs another empty stein down on the table, tapping the table lightly to get the waitress' attention. After ordering another round, he turns his head to Oobleck (who has only now just finished his first).

"We really have been in some adventures, haven't we?"

"Certainly. It has been a long career for the both of us." Oobleck replies, sliding his empty stein neatly next to the multiple empty ones that Port has left there. For all he's drank, he doesn't appear to be swaying or drunk in the slightest. He never has been able to figure out how he drinks so much before going down. He'd even beaten Glynda in a drinking contest, who was not a lightweight in the slightest. "It is… odd, is it not? Being the one that a new generation looks up to for guidance?"

Port purses his lips under his mustache, stroking it casually. "I suppose it is. But, as they always say… Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. We pass on the things we learned in our lifetimes to the new generation. To let them avoid the mistakes we made in the hopes that things will become better."

A wry smile comes to Oobleck's face. "Listening in on my lessons, are you?"

Port clears his throat as the next round of drinks is delivered, thanking the waitress before glancing back. He takes one for himself and slides one over to his companion. "Perhaps a bit. Though, you need not convince me of their worth. It is important to be able to look back with knowledge, as well as to fight forward with strength. The Vytal Festival is proof of that. Proof that we can look back at the past with respect and avoid making the mistakes of our predecessors, while proving our fighting strength to keeping it that way. And, we represent that with our commentating of the matches."

He raises his glass with a chuckle. "To the future, the past, and the only man I'd want by my side to witness both."

Oobleck smiles and slowly raises his own glass, letting it clink onto Port's in a firm manner he'd assume Port would enjoy. "And, to many more years of the same."

His eyes watch carefully as the students retreat from the arena, readying his weapon to fire on any Grimm that gets too close to them. When he sees that they have, at least, made it out, he sighs in relief and looks around. The arena carries the scars of assault, destruction all over the seats and blood staining areas he didn't want to look.

What a disaster.

He could never have imagined it would happen this way. This was supposed to be a sign of peace between the kingdoms, but it had only proven to drive a wrench between them in the light of all that occurred. Beacon was falling down below the arena and it was bringing stability along with it. He has no doubt that this moment will go down in history as a tragedy worth remembering. A warning. He only wished that all the students could survive. It was an impossibility. Casualties were going to happen and there was no way to avoid that. Faces of students he had seen just yesterday could later be found torn to pieces.

There were so many Grimm. So many things they weren't prepared for. He wishes he could do more, but giving them this chance to escape the arena was all he could do.

His hand grips his weapon tightly, body tense as his eyes flit around the mess. Griffons are swarming the area, flying around and filling the air with their hissing. He feels a firm hand on his shoulder, turning his head to find Port standing by his side. Just like always. The man has a determined look on his face, Oobleck able to feel the energy drifting off his companion. He wants to fight. He needs to fight. This is the strength they press the future forward with, the strength required to see this moment in history through to the end...

Oobleck's eyes narrow in determination, as well, when he sees that. They were right by each other's sides, even at this seeming end of the road. He wouldn't have any other man there and neither would Port. If this was going to be the end, they weren't going down without the most vicious of fights. This was for the future, for the past, and for the only man he'd want by his side to witness both.

A smile curls at his lips, able to hear one last deep laugh come from Port's throat as they stand back to back.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! One final match, Barty! Place your bets!"