You’re perusing through Thomas’s mind palace when you happen to bump shoulders with somebody. When you look up, an apology on your tongue, the stranger you’ve run into beats you to it. He’s wearing a black collared shirt, a straight neck tie around the collar. His hair is nearly swept out of his eyes, glasses framing his face. He brushes himself off of the unexpected contact with you, meeting your gaze as he speaks.

My apologies.

He blinks at you as he takes in your appearance.

I’m afraid I do not recognize you. My name is Logan. You are?