Aristide made no real effort to hide the way his eyes roved about the stranger as he approached, taking in the scar, the build, the height. He made no effort to respond, either, letting the words just hang in the air with no real rush to respond to them. It was only when he was satisfied with his little assessment that he shifted a little, turning his hand to inspect the length of his nails. 

[color=#F70D1A]“[i]I[/i] am, yes. I’m assuming you must be one, yourself, going around asking about it.”[/color] His wrist lowered, one dark brow lifting in time with the movement. [color=#F70D1A]“And you are…?”[/color]

The stranger had, admittedly, sparked a sort of low interest in him. It wasn’t much, really- the sort of feeling you might find when something caught your eye in a shop window- but it was there, and it was enough to keep him from dismissing the fellow and going off to find wherever the hell the dorms were, so they wouldn’t have to keep lugging their things around with them. The scar, as well as the build of the boy, implied strength. Experience. It was the eyes, however, that betrayed [i]where[/i] that experience came from.

It was curious.

[@The Narrator]


[hr]


To say that Library wasn’t particularly enthralled by this whole situation would be an understatement. The look in her brother’s eyes told her that he had found something to amuse himself with for at least a good couple of minutes, though a conversation about his particular major wasn’t exactly riveting She gave a brief nod to the boy that had approached them, but chose to let Aristide take the reigns of this situation, entirely quiet. Even if she wanted to say anything, he would likely just force himself back into the center of attention anyway. 

As usual.

She stood there for a moment, watching Ari talk, then slipped away from his side, footsteps remarkably silent against the auditorium floor.