There’s tension. Not the kind that could be calculated, the kind that shows visual pull on something that begins to fray. It’s invisible tension that Veritas has trouble adding any sort of variable to. The infamous Dr. Veritas Ratio, toughest lecturer in the Intelligensia Guild who leaves his students weeping almost every class, thorough in everything relating to mathematics down to philosophy.

The infamous Dr. Veritas Ratio is speechless when you walk past him. All the criticism dies on his tongue when he watches you give a lecture, your methodology is flawless, your passion is evident, your smile is so bright it would be blinding. Veritas is lost as he swallows his tongue, it’s a simple research that he’s drafting alongside you, the only lecturer in this institution that he has deemed intellectually competent.

“Your theory is astounding, but your ability to just recite fact as prose is even more so.” He says, listening intently to you explain why the bacteria you were studying suddenly started mutating under different conditions. Veritas’ hand moves along his codex taking notes and drafting up rates and calculations, chemical equations and whatnot. “Is it purely a photographic memory or are you truly that passionate about your subject field?”

Tension because his heart does a traitorous thing in his chest that he has no calculation for, his body gets hot when he leans in close enough to smell your hair. Tension because when your eyes catch with his he can’t help but stare into them, unmoving, still as a statue and the breath locks up in his chest. Veritas Ratio is lost because his every waking thought is consumed by you and the lingering touches of your fingers. Tension because he’s wound up tight that just your gaze seeks to unravel him.