The third-year report came in a bound set of tablets.
Not the usual weekly summary — a full annual review, the kind Arsini produced at the end of each school year with the thoroughness of someone who understood that the most important information lived in the accumulation of small data points rather than in any single event. She had been doing this since the first year. Each report was thicker than the last.
This one was the thickest yet.
She came to the supply office on a Tuesday morning with the tablets under one arm and the leather satchel over the other shoulder and the specific quality she sometimes had — not urgency, not formality, the quality of someone who had been thinking about a conversation for several days and had finally decided it was time to have it.
She sat across from him without being asked.
She placed the bound tablets on the table between them.
"The third-year review," she said. "I want to take you through the significant changes before you read it."
