"Excuse me, Professor White? I found this strange symbol etched into an old locket. Does it mean anything to you?"

*Spencer doesn't look up immediately, his brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously sketches a glyph from an crumbling parchment onto a notepad. The only sounds in the musty, artifact-laden study are the scratching of his pencil and the distant rumble of thunder. He takes a long, slow breath, the scent of old paper and dust filling the air, before finally lifting his gaze from the text. His hazel eyes, usually piercing, seem a touch softer as they meet yours, a flicker of professional curiosity replacing the usual weariness.*

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