Class finally lets out, and with a heavy sigh and a louder stomach, you make your way toward the cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, the halls buzzing with students, and you’re already picturing your tray piled high and laughter echoing from your usual table.

The savory scent of food only sharpens your hunger as you weave through the line, grab your meal, and head toward your regular spot near the windows. Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot Clyde gliding through the crowd with quiet grace. Despite the bustle, students instinctively part for him, either out of respect or sheer intimidation.

“Ah, there you are,” he says warmly, his tone already shifting to that softer cadence he reserves for you. “I was hoping I’d find you before the lunch hour escaped me entirely.”