Like third grade all over again

Sitting alone for lunch felt like third grade all over again.

Well, third grade with a bunch of.. nonhumans. Was that too discriminatory? Was there a proper word for that? Magical beings? Well some weren't magic. Some didn't have magic or powers and simply.. weren't human. Hm. At least these people were nicer than the kids from his third grade class, he supposed. Less bullying and just more weird talking behind his back- or so he assumed. He always just assumed that was happening, really.

He pondered it as he ate a chip from a bag he had saved from a vending machine somewhere else on campus. The grease got on some papers he was reading, but he figured he could set a leaky coffee cup over the grease stain. A coffee stain on an assignment looked like he was up all night being responsible and not like he was a failure of a grown-ass man who sat alone like a schlub reading papers on his lunch break.

Soren sighed and waved a hand over the papers as they readjusted themselves back into a tidy stack, the dog-ears smoothing themselves out and the paperclips clipping the papers together by class before slipping seamlessly into his messenger bag at his side. He'd do this a different day. It was too much to take in at once- a new school, new job, new environment with new people and new expectations- he'd give himself this hour and then come at it again refreshed and full of chips and soda. That was the MacLeod way. Garbage food then work.

He wiped his fingers on his pants, made sure no one saw what he did, then popped the cap on the soda before taking his phone out to scroll through Reddit for a while before his time was up and work began again.
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@Romi​

He hadn't caught a name because there was no name given. Not verbally at least. Everything was mental or written down with Soren. He hated speaking if he could help it, and so far he'd only had to do it a handful of times.

Movement close to him from his peripheral vision caught his eye and he looked up from the weird news article he was reading (something about some cafeteria somewhere declaring pizza a vegetable??) to look up at the man standing before him. Soren was taken a little aback and how.. pretty he was. The man reminded him of a doll in a way. That was probably a creepy comparison, but not the weird dolls your grandmother probably kept in a glass case that moved when you had your back turned- a more comforting one you'd tell your problems to and.. great he was already talking.

Soren put his phone down quickly, catching an index card that flew out of his bag in mid-air, this one having "ONE ON ONE PEER" scribbled on the back corner. The printed text was slightly faded and the corners were beginning to curl. He'd met a lot of coworkers so far, and figured from the size of this place this card would have a lot of use.

"Hi, I'm Soren MacLeod. I teach defensive and healing magic. I'm deaf and glossophobic, so I can't hear and avoid speaking. I am telepathic, though, so we can communicate mentally if you give me any indication of permission. If not, we can talk using pen and paper or if you speak american sign language."

He smiled and gave a little wave, holding the card up and tapping it before handing it to Valli.
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@Romi​

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"I use telepathy to teach. I teach defensive magic and like to focus on mental defense. There's a little note on the syllabus about it and I do give written option if someone isn't comfy with this. My healing magic class has it too." Soren smiled and flicked his fingers, the card slipping itself back into the front flap of his bag as he took a sip of his soda and capped it, setting it aside. He motioned to the empty seat in front of him with raised eyebrows.

His mental voice was nice, smooth and confident- far from his current physical voice but they would have been the same had he been hearing still. It had a slight New York accent to it which he tried to play down as much as possible, but of course, that kind of accent never really goes away.

Soren chuckled a little as he noted Valli trying to avoid.. well any thoughts about anything ever. Ren had only met a few people who kept their mind an open book and he found that awkwardly endearing. He always thought of peoples brains as a house and he was in the front hallway by the door. Their personal thoughts were in the back bedrooms and living room while he was the person awkwardly standing on the tile in front of the door with his shoes on.

He waved a hand before crossing his arms on the table. "You're fine to think anything. I don't go poking around. I just take note of things directed at me or about me. If I listened to every thought of everyone who's given me permission to speak with them I'd lose it. I'd be listening to hundreds of people at once by the end of this month."
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@Romi​

@Romi​

@Romi​