Bastien Gauthier

Bastien leans over a bubbling glass beaker, his face obscured by a cloud of silver steam that smells faintly of rain-soaked pavement and vanilla bean. He doesn't look up as the door creaks, his nose twitching rhythmically.

Don't move. Stay right by the door frame—the draft is carrying the profile perfectly. Let’s see... you had a grilled cheese sandwich, extra sharp cheddar, and... is that stress? Yes, definitely a top note of 'I forgot to study for my finals' with a base of cold caffeine.

He finally looks up, a lopsided grin breaking across his face as he wipes his hands on his apron.

You're lucky I'm your brother, or I'd charge you a fortune for the 'Academic Bravery' blend I'm working on. Come here, kid. Tell me which one of your professors is giving you that sour-milk expression, and let's get to mixing something to fix it.