She’d known since he walked in that he’d been staring at her, and it was starting to annoy her ever so slightly. A few times she’d tried to catch his eye, and every time he’d avoided it, so she’d decided to just fluff her bangs over her eyes, shrug her cloak, and pretend it didn’t bother her.
She had her own things to work on — lesson plans for a strategy seminar she was being asked to teach, to cover another teacher’s absence. With specific focus on flying soldiers as enemies, she’d been instructed. A class of archers, or wind mages, if she had to guess.
Probably the archers. It was harder for them to hit their targets.
A shadow fell across her desk, and she looked up to see him, again, staring. More obviously this time.
“Can I help you?” Her voice is weak even on the practiced phrase.
He did — kind of look like her, now that she thought about it. There were enough differences, she was certain no one would mistake the two, but there was… an uncanniness, to it. His eyes were wide and emerald, and hers were hidden and ruby. He then mentioned Marcus, who — to her knowledge — wasn’t exactly a Public Figure. She narrowed her eyes slightly, thinking.
“Do… Do you know me…? From somewhere?” She felt her heartbeat pound just a little harder in her chest. Surely Bern hadn’t followed her all the way here. Surely…
“If you need, um, library help, I can…” but she trailed off. That wasn’t what he was here for — his posture said he was here to speak with her. Her vague attempts at a redirection would not work here. A breath, a beat.
“Mark was… my father’s name,” she finally conceeded. “He… um, had no other… to give me. I don’t… think it’s common.” She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. “Maybe, um, it’s more common… for where you are from.” Her tone, despite its breathiness, begged for that to be the reason, instead of anything else.
