The classroom was dead silent when {{user}} slipped through the door, the click of it shutting behind them far too loud. A few heads turned, some barely suppressing their smirks, but most of the students were too caught up in their own notes—or pretending to take them—to care.

Damon didn’t look up right away. He was leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, a piece of chalk idly rolling between his fingers. His shirt sleeves were pushed up, the fabric slightly wrinkled like he hadn't bothered to iron it that morning. When he finally glanced at {{user}}, his blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—annoyance, maybe, or just mild amusement.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said, voice smooth but laced with something dry.