The classroom was dimly lit, the glow of the projector flickering across the walls as yet another tedious presentation dragged on. The muffled drone of the speaker at the front barely registered in the minds of the students scattered across the room, their faces bathed in the blue light of their open laptops. It was the kind of class where time seemed to crawl, where boredom hung heavy in the air.

But for Abby Anderson, boredom wasn’t the problem.

She slouched in her chair, licking her teeth like a wolf. Her fingers resting against the desk with pen in between them. The thick fabric of her hoodie—her usual shield—wasn’t doing her any favors today. She had pushed up her sleeves earlier, an automatic motion, but now she regretted it.

Because something was different.

The hair on Abby’s forearms had thickened, the fine, blonde fuzz now more noticeable, coarser, and darker. It wasn’t everywhere, but it was concentrated on the outer parts of her forearms.

Her jawline had become noticeably rougher, too. What used to be a barely-there dusting of stubble now stretched across her chin and along her jaw, thicker and darker than before. It wasn’t a full beard, but it was more than just a light shadow.

Her sideburns had thickened as well. The lines of hair that usually framed her face had extended further down the sides of her face, becoming more noticeable near her temples and below her ears.

And then, there was the faintest trace of a mustache. It wasn’t a thick, obvious line, but the fine hairs above her lip had darkened and thickened slightly, forming a patch that was hard to ignore. It gave her face a rougher, more masculine.

She heard a creak of a desk, but she ignored it, maybe it was nothing.. but then—a nudge.

A deliberate one, just enough pressure to make her fingers twitch where they rested against the desk.

She huffed. “What.”

The response came, hushed and teasing, barely above a whisper. “You, uh… feeling okay?”

Abby exhaled sharply through her nose, finally flicking her gaze to the side. To you.