[ A wait of five minutes isn't long, in Zephirin's view; reaching the study room, he'd only just opened his bag and checked his phone before hearing Francel's frantic footfalls draw nearer and nearer in the corridor. His eyes sweep over Francel, taking in his rumpled appearance and his burden as the boy stops in front of him at last, out of breath.

To reassure Francel, Zephirin shakes his head on the heels of the apology, offering an explanation: ]

I arrived not long ago, myself, but it's possible that I had a shorter walk — I was in biology class before lunch. [ The science block isn't far from this building. ] What about you?

[ Francel's stray lock of hair draws Zephirin's eye a second time: if Francel remains unaware, his hands full besides, it's something to bring up. First, however, Zephirin pushes the door to their study room open, inviting Francel to head inside and catch his breath in a seat. ]