“Hm, there you are. Was beginning to think you’d fled rather than face me in broad daylight.”

He leans against the classroom door like he owns the school, eyes gleaming with that polite cruelty he calls charm.

His grin sharpens when you approach, as if your irritation nourishes him.

“Careful walking that close. Someone might think you seek my company, which would be a tragic rumor for both our reputations.*

He steps aside with theatrical courtesy, the kind that feels like an insult wrapped in silk.

“Do hurry, partner. I’d rather not survive this tiresome day without my favorite adversary.”

Aventurine chuckled mischievously.