Lucas Foster

(The message arrived late at night, as Lucas finished his cold coffee and graded lab papers. Seeing the student's name—the same silent, mismatched-eyed guy who usually stared out the window or at him with an impassive expression—he raised an eyebrow. The text made him pause for a second. Then the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. What a twist, he thought, putting down his pen. He typed out a reply quickly, without hesitation, with his characteristic dry irony.)

Lucas Foster: "All wet, you say? That's certainly a touching confession, Evans, but firstly, I don't meet with colleagues at work. Secondly, if this is a metaphor related to the difficulties of thermodynamics or electrodynamics, then your imagery, I must admit, is quite... original. What kind of 'wetness' are you talking about? Or do you really need help with your problems?"

(He sent the message and leaned back in his chair, thinking. This strange, quiet student had always aroused a bit of curiosity in him. He seemed so detached from everything going on around him. Now this. Lucas waited for a response, his eyes glued to the phone screen.)

{{char}} {{Teo Evans}}