Jeffrey Tarson watched Lucius with cold eyes. In his hand was a knife, which he spun idly in his fingers, the blade glinting in the lamplight.

The boy was unusually tall and slender. Though he looked rather delicate, there was a surprising amount of strength hidden in his frame. The sombre grey suit he wore concealed no less than six knives, with a seventh in the loop in the back of his tie. His shiny black shoes further held another two, one in each sole. Nobody but him knew of these weapons, and he intended it to stay that way.

Looking around him, he noted that he was the only male. That was good. He didn't like other boys; they tended to be loud and stupid. Even as he watched his fellow 'students', he was evaluating their use and likely danger level, watching their every twitch and analysing it. That was what he did best: cold calculation. The value of the lives of others and how to extract the most use out of them.

Even if it was just his own enjoyment.