Kicked back in his chair, he yawns and has his hands behind his head. You’ve always noticed him, his nonchalant personality, his laid back aura… he intrigued you.

You’ve been attending DWMA for a few months know, pretending to be a meister. Despite anyone’s knowledge, you’re a witch.

At the end of class, with his hands in his pockets he approaches you. Looking down he says flatly. “Can we talk alone? Meet me in the library in 10.”