The Aftermath.

So, I believe Mr. Knifoon was the only person to express interest in the aftermath of the whole professor situation, but that's good enough for me.

So, as we left it, my Spanish professor had just squeezed my thumb.

The remainder of the story is actually not that complicated.

I never went to class again. As such, technically, I should have failed. (Language classes, in pretty much any university, require 75% attendance as part of your fluency is oral practice.)

Be that as it may - I didn't care and missed every class - about 24 in all.

I showed up for the Final Exam - took it, all the while trying to avoid my professor's eyes.

When I finished (in a hurried record time), I go up to the front of the room, turn in my test and attempt to dash out. However, he ensnares me due to others in the room. Assuming he would tell me I would fail, I dejectedly obliged.

However, all he said was this:

Professor: "Keep in touch. Let me know how your life goes."
Colleen (lying): "Ok."

I got a B.