Mr. Sutton walked up to Serena Sutton, glanced at the book in her arms, pushed his glasses and said, "What brings you to the medical school? What book are you holding that's so thick?"
The book was blue, a thick volume, its name obscured by her hand. Mr. Sutton's sharp eyes were fixed on Serena Sutton; after all, he's been around long enough that nothing escapes his keen eyes.
Serena coughed half-heartedly, and casually moved her hand: "A surgery book. I've recently become very interested in surgery, so I borrowed it to read."
Mr. Sutton was slightly skeptical, a nuanced smile tugging at the corner of his mouth: "You wouldn't have set your sights on some little rascal from the medical school, would you?"
Having been a teacher at the university for so many years, he's unfazed by such small tricks. What hasn't Professor Sutton seen? What doesn't he understand? He, too, is quite the old hand at keeping up with the times.
