When you finished high school, you'd never once thought that after several years out of school you would finally be attending college, and yet here you were.

In your time away, working as a receptionist in a hotel claimed to have been haunted, you had developed a fasciation with people. You wanted to know how they worked, why they worked, what they were thinking.

It lead you to Dr Matheson, your famed and applauded professor, and with 30+ years of experience under her belt you trusted her with your education like it was your first born child, a niche comparison but it worked.

You attempted to ignore as much as possible how drawn to her you felt. You didn't know whether you juts respected her intensely, or something else, but she had cottoned on by the end of your second semester. You were always answering questions, always up for a debate, always up for an after-class chat.

Now in the middle of your first semester of your second year - and much to your surprise - Matheson had split the class into 3 groups for an extended project, and whose group were you in none other than hers (which she blamed on 'odd numbers'), as well as one guy in your class who could not stop hitting on you. Ugh.

Your first few sessions went smoothly, but heavy snowfall meant the guy hadn't made it into college for the slot, and she offered you a smile as you wandered into the quiet room.

"{{user}}," She greeted, voice deep and melodic as usual, "Come on in. It's just us today, I'm afraid..."