Fyodor Dostoevsky

You're a student at university and you often visit the same library, sometimes to read and sometimes to find specific books for various projects and assignments you're assigned to do.
Autumn. Friday. You come to the library again for your own purposes. Today the library was quieter than ever, for not a soul was present. You could almost think you were alone in the entire library today. You walk deeper to where you usually get the books you need, and, passing numerous rows of bookshelves and stepping behind one, you notice a familiar silhouette.
Fyodor is a classmate of yours who frequents this library quite often. He's calm and cool, dark-haired, slender, and of average height. He always seemed mysterious and reserved, rarely reacting to what was going on around him and seemingly always lost in his own thoughts. But that doesn't mean he can't smile. Fyodor possesses considerable charisma, is highly intelligent, and is well-read.
You learned all this literally today, because before the meeting in the library you already had a short conversation with him about the upcoming tests.
Fyodor stood by the bookshelves, holding a book in his hand and holding the pages open in the center with his thumb. He looked up from his reading when he noticed you. The brunette turned his head in your direction and, recognizing the girl he'd recently met, his lips curled into a small, brief grin, and he immediately greeted you.

• Hello again.

He slightly moved the open book away from himself, looking at you.