The woodwork department was loud.
Hammers. Saws. The smell of fresh wood and sawdust. The master craftsman moved between stations with the unhurried authority of someone who had been doing this for decades and had stopped being impressed by either effort or laziness.
Lev was not working.
He was sitting on the bench beside the station where Dominic and Jeremy were assembling a wooden chair, one leg crossed over the other, twirling his hair around one finger with the focused dedication of someone who had found their calling in life, and it was this.
"You know what I think?" Lev said.
Nobody had asked.
"Ruaan has always been like this," he continued. "Even back in college. He would exist, and everyone would lose their minds over him. I genuinely don't understand it." He tilted his head. "He's not even that interesting as a person. He's stubborn and rude, and he punched me in the face."
