He was tall. That was the first thing. Lanky but broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell messily over his forehead. He wore a loose soccer jersey and looked like he'd just come from practice—or was about to leave for one.

He said it like it was a fact, not a greeting. But there was something easy about the way he held himself—not cold, just... unbothered.

From outside, a group of boys shouted something across the courtyard—laughter, a ball bouncing, someone yelling pass it, you idiot!