WHO: Tom & Melissa WHAT: Running timmmmes WHY: Because Tom has expectations. WHEN: Tuesday Morning, 5:30 am...ish.
Tom had long ago come to understand that to be allowed to sleep in was never to be his course in life. In childhood he was up at four and five to get the bus to his part-time gig opening a Cum&Go from 5:30 til he caught the bus to junior and senior high. And then upon arriving to the Island, earlier still to hit the gym and make up for a life-time of sub-par nutrition and city-living. At least, that was his reasoning for the first half of his decade here. Now it was second nature, as constant as the manner in which he tied his shoes. Waking up at four thirty instead of a quarter til was nothing, giving him plenty of time to arrive on the track, run his usual course and still have the moments needed to sort out who was to be who, and how he ought to speak to each of them.
After all, being passionate and aloof hardly worked for everyone.
He'd have to be clear about what he was hoping for, yet give everyone enough time to feel it out. It'd be weeks, months even before he would know for certain if the students under his observation would be enough to make the cut. Have what was needed - not just the tools and talents, but the drive to forsake all their learning for the truth. To cast aside comfortable lies and live once again in the shadows to which all are born... to be ready to change the world.
It wasn't yet the appointed time when the first figure on the race-track appeared. Someone was trying to make an impression.. and to be honest. It worked. Narrow, short and hardly imposing Tom knew it was far from him to question the choices of his superiors... but really? Melissa Woodcock?