Sebastian had been surprised when he had been called in to speak to his chemistry professor on one unremarkable day in Bethas. As far as he had known, he didn’t owe any assignments and had managed good marks on the recent test. The reason for the request was made clear when he arrived. The professor informed him that he had been assigned to tutor another student. The other student, he was told her name was Chrysanthe Palmifer, had missed the first several weeks of the year due to some events concerning her family. The professor didn’t elaborate, and Baz didn’t ask. It wasn’t any of his business, he figured. He was asked to help her learn what she had missed, and catch her up to the rest of the class. He had agreed. He had the time, and had always been good at explaining things. He was told to meet her in the library the next evening.
The library was quiet, as it usually was. There were a few other students scattered around the place, reading or studying amongst themselves. Baz was familiar enough with Chrysanthe Palmifer to remember what she looked like. Tall-ish, skinny blonde, with hair that was usually in long braids. He didn’t see her seated anywhere else, so he sat at a table that offered him a clear view of the door, and waited. And waited. He had begun to think that, perhaps, he had gotten the time wrong, and shown up early. He had managed to keep himself busy for the first little while, finishing some coursework, but once that had run out, he set to looking for other distractions. He didn’t want to get up and go looking for a book to read, afraid that if he did, he would miss her. Instead, he organized his notes. He made sure he had everything he would need to walk Chrysanthe through what she had missed. Laid out things on the table. Fiddled with his pocket watch. Had it been half an hour? He had definitely gotten the time wrong. He should have brought a book that wasn’t school work.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He heard the door open and sat up straight again, but the person who walked in was not tall-ish, or blonde, nor did he have braids. Not Chrysanthe. He looked down at the table, at all the things he had laid out, and then picked up his pencil. He leaned back once more and decided to amuse himself by balancing said pencil on his upper lip. It wasn’t exactly challenging, but it was something to do that wasn’t just sitting there. It was silly, but it was keeping him occupied, at least for now.