One day someone would have to explain the story about how Conner had been born in a containment pod and could only ever properly rest in something similar, like a closet. Beds are just too damn uncomfortable for him!

"Art 102 room..."

Conner had yet to take a class in it as well but he nodded, remembering exactly where it was. It was good enough for him. He repeated the number to himself and turned to head in that direction.

Never was one for 'goodbyes'.