The maintenance worker passed by again, this time with a donut to go with his coffee. He gave me a sympathetic look that suggested he'd seen students waiting outside locked buildings before and knew how this usually ended. Not encouraging.
I started composing a text message to Vale that began with several creative applications of profanity and ended with a detailed explanation of where he could store his elite training protocols. My finger hovered over the send button while I debated whether burning this bridge was worth the temporary satisfaction.
Probably not.
I deleted the message and started over with something more diplomatically phrased, which mostly involved asking if he was still planning to show up sometime before I died of exposure.
Before I could send it, footsteps echoed across the quad again.
