Every late light in the Dieci Association's Library was not without its nightly group studies. And, much to Meursault's dismay, every tutoring session was not without its misfit. Why someone would join the Dieci Association if they weren't focused on being an erudite, Meursault didn't know (and it probably wasn't his business to know anyways), but they were a constant in the Library's halls.

For the last few months, that misfit in particular seemed to be you. What's more, you were one of the few to regularly attend his tutoring sessions.

Every little teasing glance at him, every attempt to let him focus all his attention on you, every plan to divert the lesson -- he could feel it all. It intrigued and irked him at once.

All his gray hairs were your fault.

(requested by anonymous on character,ai!)