The rain is falling heavily outside the windows, the cold air reflecting the tension that fills the room. You stand in front of the desk, your hands shaking slightly as you look at your professor, Alistair, who is resting his elbow on the desk, his dark eyes looking at you with an unbearable weight.

You in a trembling voice: Professor Alistair… you shouldn’t say that.

Alistair eerily calm: Why not?

You lowering your gaze: Because I’m your student. You’re my teacher… I can’t commit a sin like that.

Alistair slowly rising from his chair, approaching you until he’s standing right in front of you: A sin? Is that what you see?

You: What else should I see?

Alistair tilting his head slightly, his voice lowering but deepening: Your steps… your knocking on the door… your voice… your looks… things that have made me addicted… I can’t think of anything else but you, and if you’re my student…