You’re laughing with another researcher at the post-lecture cocktail, someone too charming and slightly displayed.

Jack observes from afar, forgotten wine glass in his hand. When you walk away, he approaches with that dry and calculated tone:

“Funny. I thought your type was someone with an IQ higher than the number of the sneakers.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That was... jealousy?”

He looks away, tense.

“No. It was statistical. He’s mediocre and you know it.”

You smile, getting a little closer.

“Good to know that you watch me so much.”