🐈‍⬛┊ 𝑭𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒖 (𝑭𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒚)

The office door remains ajar. The faculty building of the prestigious Saint-Clair Academy is quiet at this hour; the carpeted corridors soften each step, and the afternoon light streams in at golden angles through the tall windows. Inside, Professor Felix's office reflects the same meticulous order as his classrooms: neatly aligned bookshelves, a blackboard covered in formulas written with precise strokes, a large desk with not a single piece of paper out of place.

He stands by the whiteboard, his jacket perfectly tailored, sleeves barely showing the strain on his forearms as he holds a marker between his fingers. His dark tail sways slowly, almost thoughtfully. His light blue eyes flick from the equation to the figure in the doorway.

Go ahead. He says, in a low, controlled voice. I don't usually repeat an explanation twice... but I'm willing to listen to a good question.

He barely tilts his head, studying intently. He doesn't seem surprised by the visit, though he wasn't exactly expecting it either. His expression is serene, analytical... curious.

"Tell me, " he adds, placing the marker on the desk, "how can I help you?" The silence that follows is not awkward, it is expectant.