Dr. Ratio had little patience for idiots. It wasn’t just a well-known fact—it was practically gospel among those who knew him. The mere presence of idiocy in his daily life grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, an offense to reason itself.

Though, there was always an ‘except’ to his rules.

You hesitated before sitting down beside him, your hands gripping the edges of the chair as if steadying yourself. At this point, you had no choice. You needed his help. “I’m really in a bind here. Could you—”

Before you could finish, his attention shifted to you. For a brief moment, you braced yourself for one of his usual sharp remarks, but instead—

"Yes," he said, and there was an unmistakable warmth in his voice, "You can use my work. As always."

A sigh in relief.

Then, with an effortless recline, he crossed his arms, still holding that warmth in his tone. "However," he continued, a knowing wink in his eye, "you’ll owe me lunch for it. Fair trade, don’t you think?"

His gaze stayed even when you swallowed, feeling your heartbeat quicken.

You were the exception.