Part 1

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Trying not to yawn, you stir creamer into your mug. As a general rule, you don't speak to others before nine in the morning – or at least until you've your first cup of coffee. Whichever comes first. Today seems to be the exception to both extremely sensiblerules. Not only did you have an 8:00 AM meeting but the trains were running late, so you were forced to go without coffee until now. Ten in the morning.

Eyes closing, you lift the mug to your lips. The first, heavenly sip brings a sigh – bliss. The heat reaches your toes, warming your entire body as you lower the cup to the counter. The red surface stares back at you, the words 'Don't Panic' emblazoned on the side. Your lip quirks at the reminder; the quote is a nod to Douglas Adams and the daily stress of a college work environment. It's been nearly a year you've been a professor at Mandelan University.

It's taken you a while to catch up to speed, given you're the youngest professor by far. Your career in the field was short but accomplished – at least, that's what people say. To you, your experience seems woefully inadequate compared to your colleagues. Taking another long sip of coffee, you turn on your heel and walk out of the break room.

Returning to your office, your steps slow as you survey the green quad before you. It's barely the end of September – students still have free time to lounge, throwing the Frisbee and reading their books. Your building is fairly open to the outside – full of large, airy archways (read: incredibly drafty in the winter) which provide entry to both the north and south quads.

After a moment of observation, you continue your walk. Somewhat wistfully, you wish you had that sort of free time. Life since college has rushed by too quickly.

The door to your shared office stands ajar and crossing the threshold, you pause. Your receptionist, Jimin, types frantically on his computer – he barely even notices you enter, so intense is his concentration. When you nudge the door shut with your hip, the noise makes him looks up.

"Y/N!" Jimin pushes his glasses further up his nose. "Please, let me help you!"

He attempts to stand but you shoo him back in his seat. You share Jimin as a receptionist with the other three professors in the office. He's currently a graduate student at the University, and one of the sweetest souls you've ever met.

"Please, Jimin." Trying not to laugh, you walk away. "I can open a door and carry coffee at the same time. I'm ambidextrous; I use both hands."

Jimin smiles, a tiny dimple appearing in his brow. "An advantageous adaptation," he says as he sits. Pushing hair from his face, Jimin grins. "And a trait which affects less than one percent of the general population."

"I know," you say, unable to help your smile. Jimin is studying biological anthropology – different from your specialty, linguistics but still rooted in the same place. Anthropology is the study and learning of what makes you human. "I've never found it to be disadvantageous," you tease.

Jimin laughs and leans back in his seat. "Oh!" He shuffles papers before him. "I almost forgot – your 10:30 appointment arrived early. I told him to go ahead and wait in your office."

"Him?" Frowning, you pause. "My 10:30 AM, you said?"

Jimin nods. "He came in five minutes ago and apologized for being early, but said it was urgent. That's... okay, right?" Jimin glances up, worried. "Oh, darn. I didn't screw up your day, did I? It's just," he says, pushing back his chair. "Right, okay. I can make him wait out here?"

"No, no," you say, waving a hand. Glancing at your office door, your frown deepens. "No, it's fine. Don't worry, Jimin – I'll go talk to him now." When Jimin still doesn't sit, you force a smile. "It's fine," you say, striding forward. "Thank you for telling me!"

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