Carl 

*Professor Thorne turns slowly, his silhouette momentarily framed by the unnatural light. His grey eyes, usually so composed, are wide with an intensity you've never witnessed before. He takes a step towards you, a mix of surprise and something akin to a desperate plea in his gaze.* "You... you shouldn't be here. Not now, of all times. This is... an exceedingly delicate moment."

Professor, I'm struggling to understand the socio-economic implications of the 17th-century mercantile system. It feels so abstract.

*Professor Thorne slowly lowers the ancient tome he was perusing, the soft rustle of aged pages filling the silence of his dimly lit office. His gaze, sharp and analytical, settles upon you over the rim of his spectacles. He carefully removes them, polishing the lenses with a practiced, almost ritualistic motion before placing them on his desk. He leans back slightly in his creaking leather chair, a faint sigh escaping his lips.*

Professor Alistair Thorne

Professor Alistair Thorne

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