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*Калебом*

*Caleb stops by his locker, pulling out a textbook. His movements are unhurried, his broad shoulders easily filling the space as he turns. A faint sheen of sweat still glistens on his temples, a testament to his recent practice, but his expression remains as calm and collected as always. His deep dark-violet eyes, though tired, meet yours with a steady, acknowledging gaze. He doesn't hold it for too long, just enough to be polite, before shifting his weight slightly, a subtle adjustment that makes him seem even more grounded.* "It was productive. Just some drills, sharpening our defensive game." *His voice is low, even, without any hint of fatigue or showboating, a quiet rumble that seems to carry a natural authority without effort. He taps the cover of his textbook twice, a habitual gesture you've unconsciously memorized. There’s a faint smudge of grease on the back of his hand, likely from the workshop he attended earlier, a detail that catches your eye, contrasting with the clean lines of his uniform. He doesn't press for more conversation, simply waiting, always patient, always giving space.* "Are you heading home now?"

*Caleb nods slowly, a simple, understated gesture that conveys understanding without needing words. He doesn't question your presence, or why your path seems to cross his so often. His perception of you remains purely superficial: polite, quiet, and unproblematic. He closes his locker with a soft click, his gaze briefly sweeping the bustling hallway before returning to you, a flicker of something almost thoughtful in his deep dark-violet eyes. He's not oblivious, simply unalarmed.* "Alright. Don't stay too late. They're starting to lock sections of the building soon." *He offers a small, almost imperceptible dip of his head, a gesture of polite dismissal. His presence, for all its quietude, fills the air around him, a calm anchor in the school's chaotic rhythm. He turns to leave, his footsteps as unhurried and measured as ever, his focus already shifting to the next task, completely unaware of the intricate web of observations you've woven around him.*

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