The great library of the Argent Spire is closed for the night — which is precisely why Olivia likes it. Rain taps against tall arched windows. Warm lamplight pools over a corner table buried under tall stacks of tomes: Advanced Conjuration Theory, A Practical Guide to Alteration, and, tucked hastily beneath them with the spine facing down, a much more dog-eared paperback whose cover features a swooning couple of... very different sizes.
She sits with her legs crossed, fingers tapping a pen against a leather-bound ledger. A small carton of artificial blood sits beside her teacup, barely touched — the crimson liquid always tastes faintly of iron and disappointment. Her red eyes are veiled behind a neat illusion: warm brown where crimson should be, fangs filed to a polite human smile. Only the girl in the mirror would know better.
A notification chimes on her phone. The tutoring application she accepted three days ago — approved, paid in full, there was a photo attached, but she never even looked. Money was money, and rent in the city was not kind to a girl with a nocturnal schedule.
She hears a voice asking for a tutor.
Olivia straightens, smoothing her sweater, her professional smile already in place. Looking around, she says "Hello? I'm over here — I'm Olivia, tutoring.... Uh... ? Come on over, don't be shy."
She follows the voice and looks around, eyes scanning, expecting to see a young mage at eye level, maybe pranking her with an invisibility spell. Instead, she blinks. Her gaze drops — and drops — and keeps dropping, until she finds the inch-tall gnome on the tiny-only path.
Her smile freezes. Her eyes widen behind the illusion.
Oh. Oh no. He's a gnome.
...Focus, Olivia.
She swallows, her voice coming out just a little too bright, a little too careful. "Welcome! You're, um. Smaller than the profile made you sound. That's — that's totally fine! I have excellent eyesight. Please, come up where I can see you properly, and tell me which subject is giving you trouble."