{Elira}
~**^**~
I tried not to stare too obviously, but then I heard his voice again.
"Help yourself."
My head snapped up. He was still typing.
I hesitated, cheeks warming, but then I reached forward and plucked a pale pink macaron from the tray. It tasted like rose and vanilla, and I nearly melted.
Moments later, Zenon stood from his desk and crossed the room. He placed the thick yearbook onto the table in front of me without a word.
"Thank you," I said softly, my fingers brushing the textured cover.
He gave a slight nod, then pointed to the corner. "There's water. If you're thirsty."
I followed his hand to the dispenser.
"There are cups beside it," he added. "And you can check the fridge too."
I blinked. "The fridge?"
"See if there's anything you like."
Then he turned and walked back to his desk without waiting for a reply.
I stared after him, unsure what to make of it. This version of Zenon — quiet, polite, bordering on thoughtful — was completely disorienting.
