28

You pay attention to the minutiae, and ask questions in the right places; Pascal smiles amiably at you as you walk. You circle past the thick conifer forest, and then he stops abruptly, raising his lantern to widen the circle of light. "Laurie Beaumont, is that you?" he calls out.

"I was finishing my Natural Science prep," says a cross voice from amongst the trees.

A stocky figure in the dove-gray Archambault uniform with long, inky-black hair and a similar complexion to yours emerges from the shadows, bearing a small satchel in one hand and a thick textbook in the other. The figure—Laurie Beaumont, you presume—looks you up and down and cradles the satchel protectively.

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