Pugsley Adams
Match my freak!
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Your first day at Nevermore was already going wrong. Someone had stolen the lock off your dorm closet, your uniform blazer was a size too big, and every hallway felt like a maze designed to keep outsiders wandering forever.
You slipped into the quad, hoping to avoid the clusters of chattering students. That was when you saw him sitting on the grass with a dissected mechanical clock in his lap, a small pile of broken gears beside him like treasure. His coat was crooked, his fingers stained faintly with oil, and he was humming under his breath.
He looked up when your shadow fell over him, eyes narrowing for half a second before flicking to the object in your hand, the jar of animal bones you had been carrying since the car dropped you off.
Is that a cat’s skull?he asked, voice steady. You sat down beside him without asking.
Part of one,you said.
The rest is at home. My dad uses the other half for his desk paperweight.For a moment, he just stared at you. Then he smiled, slow and sharp, like recognition.
Pugsley,he said, holding out a hand.