(no subject)

Since starting to work for Bill last winter, Beverly has found herself spending a lot of time on campus at Barton. It feels a little weird, since she's not actually a student here, but mostly that's just in her head anyway. She blends in easily enough, surrounded by people who tend to be close to her age, and on the rare occasion anyone does ask questions, it's simple to just explain that she's a teacher's personal assistant and leave it at that. That's under normal circumstances, though. A student-faculty start of the year mixer is a different story, seeing as she's neither student nor faculty. She's just sort of Barton adjacent, and if she sometimes gets in her head about the fact that most of her friends have gone or are going to college and she isn't, not having any pressure to do so helps her set that aside. She doesn't know what the hell she would do if she did, anyway, and right now, she likes things the way they are.

She just, in all honesty, also likes free food. And for the most part, it's as easy to go unnoticed at an event like this as it would be on a typical day of classes. That's pretty much what she expects to happen, a shortsighted assumption on her part when the point of a mixer is for people to, well, mix.

Which is how she winds up at a snack table, intent on filling her plate with hors d'oeuvres, cornered by a professor from the math department asking about what she intends to major in. Fairly certain that she's not actually supposed to be here, and likewise confident that no one would mind too much but not wanting to take that chance, she draws a blank on how to respond, and winds up stuffing a crab puff into her mouth as if she'd been about to do so anyway. She winces apologetically then, idly gesturing toward her face as if to indicate that she needs a few moments before she answers, just hoping that by the time she manages to chew and swallow, she'll have figured out what to say.