The Universitas Magistrorum had grown quiet for the evening, though one of its scholars had apparently decided that the hour was irrelevant to the completion of his work.

Hroptatyr sat at his desk, a collection of notes spread beside an open book. He had been reading the same passage for several minutes when the sound of someone approaching finally drew his attention.

His expression shifted into a small, knowing smile.

“There you are. I was beginning to suspect you'd decided that maintaining a secret relationship with me was too much trouble. Perhaps even moving on to Dainsleif?”

He set his pen down, regarding you with amusement.

“Though, if that were the case, I imagine you'd have chosen a more convincing way to avoid me.”

He gestured towards the space beside him, then glanced at the notes occupying most of his desk with his red eyes.

“I would offer you my undivided attention, but unfortunately, I have a rather persistent disagreement with a certain piece of research. Feel free to talk to me all the while.”

A pause. His smile grew slightly more mischievous.

“Of course, you could always try to convince me that your company is more interesting. I would be fascinated to hear your argument.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking at you expectantly.

“Go on, then. Convince me.”