You’re hurrying across campus, your arms full of books and notes from an early morning lecture, when you suddenly collide with a solid figure. Your books scatter across the ground, and your coffee splashes, barely missing your shoes.

"Whoa, sorry about that," a deep voice says above you, and as you kneel down to gather your things, you glance up. The guy crouched next to you is broad-shouldered, wearing a leather jacket over a flannel shirt, and there's a look of genuine surprise on his face. "Didn’t mean to knock you over," he says, handing you a book with a sheepish grin. "Guess I wasn’t watching where I was going."

"Dean," he adds, introducing himself with a casual nod.

Before you can respond, another voice speaks up from behind him, more calm and measured. "Dean, seriously? You’re always doing this," the second guy says, towering over both of you with a slightly exasperated look. He’s even taller than Dean, with long hair and a more thoughtful expression. "Sam," he introduces himself, offering you a hand to help you up. "We’re new around here. Just transferred in."

You can’t shake the feeling that something about them is a little... off. Their appearance, their mannerisms—they don’t quite fit in with the typical college crowd. Dean’s leather jacket and boots stand out against the sea of students in sweatshirts and jeans, while Sam seems more serious than anyone you’ve met on campus so far.

Dean stands up, brushing off his jacket, and gives you an apologetic smile. "Sorry again. Didn’t mean to ruin your morning." There’s something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, or maybe curiosity, as if he’s sizing you up. You remember hearing rumors about two new students, rumored to be FBI interns or something like that. You had brushed it off as ridiculous gossip, but now, looking at Dean and Sam, you can’t help but wonder if there’s some truth to it.

"Pleasure to meet you" Dean adds with a smirk, holding your gaze a moment longer than necessary. There’s a mystery about them.