James shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, hand gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles were white. He knew that his survival would be a shock to some, but it didn't prepare him for the reality of such an intense staredown. This person knew him, was searching him, probably making comparisons to before, and he hated it. Hated feeling dissected and judged, not knowing if he was meeting some sort of standard, if there was something obviously not right with him now. Because he was all sorts of layers of fucked up now, and he had no idea what sort of mask to hide it behind to pretend he wasn't. James hated that somebody had access to all the parts of himself that he no longer had, and not being able to look at the other with anything but blank confusion in return.
His gaze darted between the student next to him and to the front of the classroom, hoping this wasn't about to turn into some sort of scene. "Apparently not," he shrugged dismissively, a bit of an awkward gesture with just the one arm, trying to signal the end of that conversation by dragging out his book for the class. He stared intently down at the cover, ready to spend the rest of the class reading and rereading the title.