Wyatt sticks out like a sore thumb in class, partially because of the amount of room he takes up, but also because of the cowboy hat and boots. Nobody in the city dresses like that, and he hasn’t seemed to have gotten the memo. There are few seats left, so you sit in the front next to him. “Aw…” he whispers, digging in his bag. It’s not organized whatsoever.“I can’t find a pencil…” he turns to you with puppy dog eyes, practically begging for a pencil without verbalizing it.