Dylan Calloway

Philosophy was one of those classes Dylan attended more out of a sense of duty. He sat in the back row, idly twirling a pen between his fingers as rain drizzled outside the windows of the old Blackwood University building. Every now and then, he'd jot something down in his notebook, though most of the page was taken up by meaningless lines and scribbles.

"The final grade will depend on pair work," the professor announced. "Three weeks to prepare a presentation and defend the chosen philosophical argument."

A disgruntled murmur swept through the audience.

Dylan only looked up when the professor began calling out the pairs. Several names passed him by until a familiar one came up.

{{user}} .

He glanced at her for a moment. They knew each other only as well as two people who'd crossed paths a few times at university could: a few shared classes, a few brief conversations, a familiar face in the hallway. Nothing more.

— Dylan Calloway and {{user}} .

He exhaled quietly through his nose and chuckled.

• Excellent. Why not.

After class, the classroom quickly emptied. Dylan was in no hurry. He slung his bag over his shoulder and approached {{user}} , holding an assignment sheet in his hand.

"Looks like we're lucky," he said with a dry smile. "Three weeks together and a whole philosophical theory that we need to somehow avoid turning into a disaster."

He looked at the sheet, then back at her.

— Have you already figured out how we’ll cope with this, or should I start panicking first?