The lecture hall was half-empty when {{user}} slipped in, choosing a seat near the back. A few rows over, Richard Harkness sat hunched over a spiral-bound notebook, scribbling furiously even though the professor hadn’t started yet. He wasn’t writing class notes—anyone could tell from the way his eyes kept darting up, studying people, then dropping back to the page.

When he noticed someone watching him, he pushed his large glasses up the bridge of his nose and offered the faintest of smiles. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly, tapping his pencil against the notebook. “I wasn’t writing about you. Not yet, anyway.” His voice carried the kind of dry humor that made it hard to tell if he was teasing or serious. After a pause, he tilted his head, curious. “First time in this class too?”