It didn't surprise Kyle one jot that Prof-- uh, Headmistress Hawthorne had nipped the drama and the tension in the bud in the blink of an eye, but he had been hoping that it could have continued for at least a few moments more. At least there was still some entertainment in the form of the highlight reel on the large viewing screen.

That was where Kyle kept his focus for the next twenty minutes, his eyes practically glued to the screen as clips of each competitor's challenge played, while he finished off his chocolate frog. Naturally, he immediately noticed the way in which all the fake No-Maj were different ages and genders (he wondered if the variables made any difference; how much easier might it have been had he been dealing with a child rather than a middle aged woman? probably not much easier at all, given they had all essentially been puppets anyway) but mostly Kyle tried to focus on just what techniques everyone else had gone with. Now, his mind was certainly on the scoring, on whether he had done enough to pass through to the next round.

Kyle may not have been as wildly and openly competitive like he knew some of the other Ilvermorny competitors to be, but he did like to succeed, nevertheless. Did anyone really like to lose or be shown up, to be the first eliminated from a competition upon which all eyes were on? Certainly not, especially if you wanted to stand out, to set yourself apart from the rest, something Kyle had recently become so obsessed with. He kept running through his own actions back in the forest, what he had done, what he should have done in order to complete the task faster, more efficiently, or more... impressively. Had what he had done been enough? He had his doubts.

It felt like a lot longer than twenty minutes, while at the same time it seemed as though hardly any time had passed at all, but soon Headmistress Hawthorne was back, ready to announce the scores, and exactly who would be progressing to the next stage. Discreetly, Kyle crossed his fingers and folded his arms before leaning forward on his knees, ready to start hoping to hear his name called sooner rather than later.

And then... he--... it--...

The--...

What?

The first name. His was the very first name out of Hawthorne's mouth, and if Kyle hadn't been paying such rapt attention, he would have suspected he had misheard. But no, there it had been: Kyle Baker, Ilvermorny, 25 points.

There was no denying it - though Kyle was generally fairly confident in his intellect and abilities - this took him by surprise. First place? Full marks?

It was quite possible that he was sat there, stock still and staring, ever so slightly agape.