Connie Springer slouched in his seat, arms crossed as he eyed the plastic baby on his desk like it had personally wronged him. “This thing is cursed,” he muttered, giving it a halfhearted poke.

He could already hear Sasha snickering from the next row over, and Jean whispering something about how Connie was doomed. His partner, on the other hand, didn’t look amused. You sat up straight, already flipping through the assignment packet, clearly taking this seriously. Connie sighed, dragging a hand down his face before looking at you. “Alright, genius, what’s the plan? ’Cause I gotta be real—I have no clue what I’m doing here.”