Chapter Text
Bella Swan drove into town with one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel, posture relaxed, movements unhurried. The vintage muscle car beneath her purred like a satisfied animal, engine perfectly tuned, gears shifting with seamless precision. The vehicle was older than most of the students she would meet today, possibly even older than some buildings in this town, but it ran better than anything fresh off a modern assembly line. She really lucked out in finding a rundown and rusted 1970 Chelleve SS454 in some half-bankrupt car shop covered by a dusty tarp.
A whisper of transmutation, layered carefully over metal and mechanics, reinforcing without altering, reversing the rust, perfecting without revealing. To human eyes, it was just a well-loved classic. To Bella, it was a small indulgence. She had earned them after being on her very best behavior in one of the busier cities. She doesn't like the loud music, the constant sirens, the overwhelming stench of human suffering in every back alley covered by tents and cardboard houses. But Bella found it necessary to stay in a big city every couple of relocations. The higher population count helps her blend in and learn about recent changes in slang, as well as any new and significant celebrity news that will eventually become the gossip in the next town she moves to.
This time it’s Forks, a small borderline rural area in Washington. Like most of the northwestern region of America, it looked like it had been dipped in a puddle and wrung out. Rain glazed every surface, turning the town into a soft, reflective blur of gray and green. The trees stood tall and patient, evergreen sentinels watching over a place that smelled of wet earth, pine, and the quiet persistence of human routine. It was quaint, small, and almost painfully earnest. Quiet places surrounded by mountains and lush forests will always have a nostalgic feeling to Bella. Every once in a while, she would move to an area much like this to remind her of where she was before she was summoned to this decidedly boring realm.
Rain streaked across her windshield in lazy arcs as she slowed near the school. Forks High loomed ahead, the moist bricks covered in moss, broad windows with vines of ivy trying to find a weak spot in the glass, a faint air of institutional optimism. Bella’s lips curved briefly.
Ah yes. The modern temple of adolescent suffering.
She parked with deliberate ease, engine settling into silence as she cut the ignition. For a moment, she simply sat, observing.
Students moved through the lot in clusters—laughing, shoving, flirting, posturing. So much noise. So much urgency. So much emotion tied to things that would not matter in ten years.
Or fifty.
Or five hundred.
Bella had watched kingdoms rise and fall with less drama than a human teenager choosing a lunch table.
She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder in a practiced motion. Appearances mattered because humans trusted what looked familiar. The girl in the rain, with the old car and dark brown leather jacket, was less threatening than the truth: an ancient being that had been poorly described in the fantasy books young adult humans read.
As her black-heeled boots touched the wet pavement and she stood from her seat, the world shifted. Having relocated many times in her centuries in the realm, she had gotten used to the ambient smells of school. But the familiar blend of human sweat, cafeteria grease, cheap perfume, and damp fabric thinned and was edged aside by something cold and clean. Bella deliberately inhaled once, subtly. There were hints of winter, iron, and overly sweet honey. There are vampires here, and judging by their eyes, animal hunters.
Her step did not falter. She did not tense or feel the need to reach for her power or prepare for violence. There were five of them, from the feel of it. Young, but disciplined and controlled. Predators wearing restraints like tailored suits. She closed her cardoor and put her backpack on the hood. Fidgeting with the contents under the guise of double-checking her school supplies. Bella lifted her gaze, sweeping the parking lot with lazy precision. She found them immediately.
They stood together near the far side of the lot, pale against the gray, beautiful in that inhuman way that screamed danger to anything with survival instincts. They were too still. Too perfect with small movements every other second that felt deliberate rather than necessary. Interesting.
Bella’s eyes flicked over them, cataloguing without effort. She did not know their names, and that was fine. Names were inefficient until proven necessary. She hasn't survived this long without learning to keep her nose in her own business. So she assigned them functional labels as she always did.
The tall one with bronze hair that stands out against his pale skin and a rigid posture: The Pale One. He is controlled with sharp eyes that were watching her too closely. The tiny, bright one with spiky black hair that was vibrating with barely contained motion: The Spark. Energy in motion. Hard to read and even harder to predict. The massive one leaning against a Jeep with casual confidence, grin already forming: The Grin. His posture is open, and his laugh is loud. Simple in the way only the very strong could afford to be, his arm around the waist of a blonde with arms crossed and eyes like knives: The Judge. Defensive of her family, probably hiding a pride that is as fragile as glass. And then— Oh. Now that was interesting.
Her mouth twitched, the faintest hint of amusement touching her lips.
The last one. He’s tall and still, his gold hair shining even in the overcast weather. Taut as a drawn wire, his presence was heavy. Not physically, but emotionally. Like a storm locked behind glass. Discipline layered over violence and control built on old scars. Bella’s gaze lingered a fraction longer. He was The Storm.
A soldier, she thought. Or something very close to one. The balanced and ready way he held himself. The way he stands to face the crowd, eyes tracking movement without appearing to. The way his shoulders carried tension like a weapon.
She knew that posture. She had worn it once a long time ago.
His gaze met hers, honey gold meeting gold-flecked brown. And for a heartbeat, the world narrowed. Not in a dramatic, cinematic way. There were no sparks or sound or breathless tension. Just a deep awareness. An ancient recognition neither of them could have named.
Jasper Whitlock felt it first.
Something in her presence pressed against the edges of his control. The feeling was firm, not aggressive. Like hands placed on his shoulders, steadying. Grounding.
It deeply unsettled him.
Bella, on the other hand, simply observed. He is disciplined, she noted calmly. And deeply haunted, it's a fascinating combination. She did not smile at him. Did not attempt to acknowledge him or this ancient feeling.
She looked away, and The Storm stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Good, Bella thought. That will do nicely. She had been desperately hoping for something different this time around. A female can only handle so many repetitive lives.
She zipped up her bag and turned toward the school doors, boots splashing through shallow puddles with sure and even steps. It didn't take long before she felt their eyes on her. She takes a glance over her shoulder and takes note of the Pale One’s curiosity, the Spark’s confusion, the Grin’s amusement, the Judge’s scrutiny, and the Storm’s tension. She lets it wash over her.
It was not the first time she had been watched. Kings had watched her with hunger. Generals with suspicion. Witches with hope. Priests with terror. She had stood before men who commanded armies and gods alike and felt nothing but mild irritation. Five teenage vampires in a rain-soaked parking lot did not register as a threat. But still… she was curious.
As she climbed the steps to the entrance, Bella allowed her awareness to drift, brushing lightly against the emotional field around them. Not probing or invading, just… tasting. Something she used to do often on the battlefield, a sense that saved her life more times than these humans could count.
The little coven was anxious, frustrated, and defensive. Some of them must have gifts, and they have noticed that they don't work on her. Oh, yes. Very interesting. This was not the first time she had come across vampires, so she knew that her arrival would put them on edge. However, it was the first time she went to school with a coven. Just the thought puts a faint, wry smile on her lips.
The doors opened with a soft creak, warmth and human noise spilling out to meet her. The scent of teenagers, cafeteria food, and institutional cleaner wrapped around her, pushing the vampires’ cold signature to the edges of her senses. As usual, the hallways were chaotic. Lockers slammed, voices overlapped, laughter ricocheted off the walls, and shoes squeaked on tile. A thousand tiny dramas unfolded in the span of seconds. Bella moved through it like a salmon swimming up a river. She did not rush or hesitate. She had walked through plague cities, burning villages, and battlefields slick with blood and ash. A high school hallway was more than manageable.
Her eyes flicked over students with detached curiosity. Picking out all of the cliques and cliches that persist throughout history. In recent decades, Bella had noticed that humans tend to segregate themselves into their own self-labeled boxes. There will always be the insecure kids who gather together in small, tight groups. The ambitious ones who get to school early to do school work on the benches or in their cars. The cruel ones that almost always pick on the kind kids that are too shy to speak up for themselves, and their followers who egg on the injustice. The ones who would grow up and forget each other. The ones who would peak here and never recover. So much life, so little time, and the humans with underdeveloped brains that can't seem to grasp their limited existence. There once was a time when Bella felt pity for their small lives, but that has long since bled into apathy.
She paused briefly at the map near the entrance, pretending to orient herself while actually mapping exits, blind spots, and sightlines. Old and useful habits that have stuck with her through her centuries of living. Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the direction of the administration office.
The secretary, Mrs. Cope, judging by her nameplate on the desk, looked up as Bella approached, blinking in mild surprise. Bella had that effect. Something about her presence didn’t quite fit. Too calm and composed to be a new student.
“Hello,” Bella said, voice smooth, level, polite. “I’m Bella Swan. I’m here to pick up my schedule.”
The woman nodded quickly, riffling through papers. “Ah, yes. The new student, we don't really get many of those. Here you go. Everything you will need is in this packet. If you have further questions, don't hesitate to ask a staff member.”
Bella accepted the packet with a nod. “Thank you.”
Her fingers brushed the paper lightly. Fresh ink on a thin stack of papers held together with a thin piece of metal. The faint smell of oil from human hands. She catalogued it without thinking while she flipped to her schedule.
As she turned to leave, she felt it again.
The Storm.
He was closer now. Somewhere down the hall. Watching.
Bella steps out of the office, and her gaze lifts, catching him at the end of the corridor. He stood rigid, pretending not to stare. She met his eyes once again, and he froze. Just a fraction too still to be the human he pretends to be.
Her lips curve into a small smile. Then she looked away and continued down the hall, utterly unbothered.
Behind her, Jasper Whitlock exhaled for the first time in several seconds.
He did not know why. He only knew that something had changed.
Bella moved through the halls with unhurried precision, schedule held loosely in one hand. She had English first period. Of course, it was almost always English. Every school, every era, every attempt at civilization insisted on beginning with language.
At least they’ve stopped using quills, she thought dryly.
The hallway swelled with activity around her, with voices, laughter, the high-pitched shriek of someone greeting a friend as if they hadn’t seen them in decades rather than yesterday afternoon. A boy dropped his books and swore creatively. A girl giggled far too loudly at something that was not funny.
The sounds were loud, but Bella did not flinch. She had once stood in the middle of a medieval market while a thief was publicly whipped for stealing bread. She had listened to the crack of leather on skin without so much as blinking. Compared to that, human adolescence was… decidedly theatrical and almost predicable.
She slipped into her classroom just as the bell rang, choosing a seat near the window. An old habit. Corners and exits mattered, even in situations where they didn’t.
The room smelled faintly of dry-erase marker, paper, and teenage ambition. The teacher smiled a little too brightly with tired eyes as Bella entered.
“You must be our new student.” The man says with thinly veiled false cheer.
Bella inclined her head politely. “Bella Swan.”
The teacher gestured toward the empty seat she was making her way towards. “Welcome to Forks. I am Mr. Mason, your English teacher this year.”
Bella’s lips twitched. Yes. I gathered.
She takes off her leather jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair. She take a second to smooth out her red sweater and sat, folding her hands neatly on the desk, posture straight but relaxed. Her gaze drifted, observing the ins and outs of an adolescent in this region.
Three students were already covertly staring. Two were whispering. One boy nearly fell out of his chair trying to get a better look at her. She pretended not to notice. Humans were endlessly transparent. Her eyes flicked to the back of the room. The Pale One sat there, stiff and alert, eyes locked on her with poorly disguised intensity.
Edward Cullen had never in his long, undead life encountered a mind like hers.
It was quiet, not empty. Just simply… sealed? He could not hear her thoughts. Could not skim her surface. Could not touch her consciousness at all. It was like staring at a door with no handle.
His jaw tightened.
Bella, of course, noticed. She noted the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes narrowed, the way his attention never quite left her.
Oh dear, she thought blandly. You’re going to be trouble.
Alice Cullen sat two rows over, chin propped on her hand, eyes darting between Bella and the future she could not see. She frowned faintly, confusion etched into her delicate features.
Ah, these two must be the ones with the gifts. Bella mused. They won't work, and that must be so frustrating for you both.
The Grin wasn’t in this class. The Judge neither. The Storm—
Her gaze slid, unhurried, to the side. He was there.
The Storm sat against the wall close to the door, posture rigid, eyes forward, pretending with admirable discipline not to watch her. She admired that. So few warriors understood the value of stillness. Her awareness brushed him lightly. Not a probe. Just… a presence. He stiffened, but still refused to look in her direction.
Good.
She turned her attention back to the front, entirely satisfied.
English passed without incident. The teacher droned on about symbolism and metaphor. Bella listened with half her mind, the rest wandering. She had heard most of these phrases before, multiple times. In Latin, French, Middle English, even in a crumbling monastery where the ink had smelled of soot and vinegar, and the scribe had glared at her as if she were an omen of the end times. She suppressed a smile as she filled in the answers on a handout.
The bell rang. Chairs scraped, and the herd surged.
Bella waited.
Always waited.
Humans moved like startled birds. They rushed for doors, for friends, for relevance. Bella rose only when the room cleared, slipping into the current with effortless grace.
Her next class was Spanish, a couple of doors down the hall.
Bella sat in her regular spot near the windows and settled in for a class on a language she already spoke, taught by a white woman with a terrible accent, who studied abroad for a couple of months in college. Therefore, she must be the leading expert in the language and culture.
She did not notice at first when the girl beside her leaned closer.
“Hi,” the girl whispered, smiling brightly. “I’m Jessica.”
Bella turned her head, meeting her gaze with calm curiosity. “Bella.”
Jessica grinned, relief evident. “I thought you might be stuck-up. You’re not, right?”
Bella considered that.
“I suppose that depends on your definition,” she said mildly.
Jessica blinked, then laughed. “Okay, I like you.”
Angela leaned in from behind, smiling softly. “I’m Angela.”
Bella inclined her head. “A pleasure.”
Angela’s smile widened slightly. Jessica bounced.
“So, where are you from?” Jessica asked.
Bella paused. Carefully. She had learned long ago that the full truth was inconvenient.
“Various places, I’ve kind of been all over the place,” she said smoothly.
Jessica laughed. “Same! Well, not really. I mean, Forks is… You know.”
Bella did, indeed, know.
Angela studied her with gentle curiosity. “Your car is amazing.”
Bella’s lips curved faintly. “Thank you.”
If you knew how many times I’ve rebuilt it…
Jessica leaned closer, lowering her voice. “So… you saw them, right?”
Bella arched a brow. “Saw whom?”
Jessica’s eyes darted toward the back of the room. “The Cullens.”
Ah. So that’s their name, Bella thought.
Outwardly, she merely nodded. “Yes.”
“They’re… weird,” Jessica said, clearly delighted by the word. “Super pale, never talk to anyone, and they never come to any of my parties.”
Angela gave a small, apologetic smile. “They’re nice, though. In their own way.”
Bella considered that.
Nice, she thought sardonically. Yes. Predators can be nice.
“Interesting,” she murmured.
Jessica beamed. “Right?!”
Bella bit back a laugh.
Humans were adorable.
The next class was gym.
A very redundant class in Bella’s opinion, but she stayed in the middle of the pack during the mile run. It was an easy thing, but she still needed to act winded at the end to avoid calling attention to her. She hates this class.
Jessica leaned over in the changing room. “You’re really calm.”
Bella blinked. “Is that unusual?”
Jessica laughed. “Around here? Yeah.”
Angela smiled. “It’s… refreshing and peaceful.”
Bella considered that.
She had been called many things.
Peaceful was new.
By the time lunch approached, Bella had a working profile of Forks High. It was loud, the students were overly curious and starved for juicy gossip. She had also noted that the Cullens were never far. She had read somewhere that you are never more than 5 feet from a spider at any given time, and even though that statement was proven to be false, Bella would like to make a similar argument about the Cullen coven.
The Pale One’s gaze followed her like a shadow.
The Spark’s frustration was growing.
The Judge watched with thinly veiled suspicion.
The Grin, predictably, smiled warily in her direction.
And she always felt the Storm before she saw him. A subtle pressure tightening in her chest. A contained storm brushes the edges of her awareness.
She turned a corner and spotted him. He stood near his locker, posture perfect, expression blank, eyes flicking to her and away again in a motion so controlled it was almost painful.
Bella studied him.
He is trying very hard not to react, she thought. Admirable but ineffective.
She tilted her head slightly, and his jaw clenched.
Bella decided that she would enjoy the next couple of years in Forks.
As she walked with Jessica and Angela toward the cafeteria, Jessica chattered about teachers, homework, and something called TikTok.
Bella listened with polite interest, though internally she wondered why anyone would want to broadcast their thoughts to the entire internet. But she also felt the same about the YouTube website when it came about, so what does she know?
Angela explained something about a recent social media trend. Bella nodded, storing the information away. Humans had always loved spectacles. They had just made it portable and readily available for any and everyone to view.
The cafeteria doors swung open, and the noise hit like a wave. Bella paused for a fraction of a second. Not from discomfort, but from cautious curiosity. So many heartbeats. So many fragile lives in one place. So much emotion. So much chaos.
She smiled faintly.
I’ve missed this, she allowed herself to admit.
And somewhere across the room, the Storm stilled.
He didn’t know why.
He only knew that the air had shifted.
And that the strange, calm girl with the old eyes was about to sit down.
The cafeteria was exactly what Bella expected.
Loud. Bright. Chaotic.
The air buzzed with overlapping conversations, laughter, plastic trays clattering, chairs scraping, and the unmistakable scent of human food. Salt, sugar, grease, overcooked meat, and artificial fruit were set up buffet style. It was overwhelming in the way only a room full of adolescents could be.
Bella stepped inside with Jessica and Angela, unhurried and with a friendly ease.
Jessica grabbed a tray immediately. “Come on, if we don’t move fast, all that’s left is mystery meat and regret.”
Bella smiled faintly. Ah, yes. The twin pillars of human cuisine.
They moved through the line. Bella selected the safest options: a sandwich, an apple, and bottled water. A small meal that was simple and inoffensive. She ate for appearances, not necessity, and human digestion was… temperamental at best.
Angela glanced at her tray. “You eat really… healthy?”
Bella hummed. “I’ve found it reduces complications.”
Jessica laughed. “Fair.”
They found a table near the center of the room. Jessica dropped into her seat, immediately scanning the cafeteria like a hunter scenting prey.
Her eyes lit up.
“There they are.”
Bella did not need to ask who.
She followed Jessica’s gaze.
The Cullens sat together at an isolated table with untouched food trays in front of them. They were a study in contrasts: the Spark animated and bright, the Grin leaning back with casual ease, the Judge poised and aloof, the Pale One rigid and watchful, and the Storm sat perfectly still. Almost too still.
Bella’s eyes narrowed a fraction.
He’s listening, she thought. Not to the room, but to us.
Interesting.
Jessica leaned in, whispering excitedly. “Okay, so. The serious one? That’s Edward. He’s, like, insanely smart and never smiles. The tiny one is Alice, she’s super nice but also kind of… flighty? The big guy is Emmett, he’s basically a golden retriever in human form. The blonde is Rosalie, she’s… not friendly. And the quiet one? Jasper. He’s… weird.”
Bella’s lips twitched.
Weird, she repeated internally. Yes. That is one word for him.
She let her gaze linger on Jasper, cataloguing.
He sat with perfect posture, hands resting loosely on the table, shoulders squared. His face was neutral, but his eyes tracked everything. Every movement, shift, and breath.
And then, slowly, they met her gaze.
Again.
This time, he did not look away, and neither did she. The room almost seemed to stand still. Not literally. Humans continued to chatter and move and exist. But something in the space between them tightened, drew thin and taut.
Jasper Whitlock did not know why his chest felt heavy.
He only knew that when her eyes met his, something in him—something old, something trained, something scarred—recognized her.
Not as a threat.
Not as prey.
As… familiar.
The unsettling feeling from this morning continues to plague him whenever she is around.
Bella studied him calmly.
Oh, yes, she thought. Definitely a soldier. And a very tired one.
Her expression did not change. No smile. No challenge. Just quiet, unwavering attention.
Jasper swallowed.
Edward noticed.
He leaned slightly toward Jasper, murmuring, “Do you feel that?”
Jasper did not answer.
He was too busy trying to breathe.
Bella broke the gaze first, turning back to Jessica with infuriating nonchalance.
Jessica was vibrating. “So yeah, Jasper’s the weird one. They all transferred in a while back. But Jasper is intense, and he doesn’t talk much. Gives me the creeps, honestly.”
Bella tilted her head. “Why?”
Jessica shrugged. “He just… watches. Like, all the time.”
Bella smiled faintly.
Yes, she thought. He does.
Angela frowned slightly. “He’s polite, though. When he does talk.”
Bella hummed in agreement. “Politeness often masks discipline.”
Jessica blinked. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Jessica laughed. “You’re funny.”
Bella accepted that.
Her gaze drifted again, drawn like a tide.
The Storm was still watching, and he did not hide it now.
Good, she thought. Progress.
She took a bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving him.
He shifted.
Just barely.
A muscle in his jaw jumped.
Emmett noticed.
He leaned over to Alice, whispering with a grin, “Oh, this is getting good.”
Alice frowned, eyes flicking between Jasper and Bella. “I don’t like it.”
Edward’s brow furrowed. “I can’t hear her.”
Rosalie scoffed. “Of course you can’t. She’s probably doing it on purpose.”
Jasper, for his part, felt like he was standing in the middle of a battlefield with no weapon and no orders.
He did not understand it.
He only knew that her presence was… calming.
And that terrified him.
Bella swallowed, set her sandwich down, and finally looked away.
The tension eased.
Jasper inhaled sharply.
Bella hid her smile behind her apple.
Afternoon classes came and went in a blur of observation and quiet intrigue.
The next class was biology.
Ah. The study of fragile, temporary systems.
She had Edward and Alice in this class. Edward’s tension was near comical. Alice’s frustration was growing. She kept glancing at Bella, then away, then back again.
Bella pretended not to notice, but she smiled faintly at her notebook.
Jasper was not in this class, and she felt the absence like a shifted weight. It was annoying.
The teacher began lecturing about cellular respiration. Bella listened with polite interest, recalling plagues that had wiped out entire villages, bodies stacked like cordwood, the stench of death thick in the air.
You think this is complicated, she thought dryly. Try healing someone without antiseptic.
She had Rosalie and Emmett in her math class. Emmett grinned at her once. She inclined her head politely. Rosalie watched her like she was a problem that needed solving.
Bella catalogued that too.
Her next class was history.
Jasper sat two rows ahead this time. Close enough that Bella could feel the subtle vibration of his control, the way he held himself tight, the way his presence seemed to push and pull at the emotional current of the room.
She chose a seat behind him.
Not beside. Not across. Behind. Close enough to feel, but far enough not to threaten.
He stiffened instantly.
Good. Oh, this should be delightful.
The room was warm and smelled faintly of old books. A man with thinning hair and a passion for World War II, judging by the posters decorating the walls, had already begun lecturing before the bell even rang.
Bella sat, opened her notebook, and prepared herself.
Ten minutes in, she was already bored.
He spoke with conviction. With certainty. With that absolute, unwavering confidence unique to people who had read three books and believed themselves experts.
She did not correct him.
She had stood in the shadow of men who would later be footnotes. She had watched wars begin with quieter conversations than this man was using to describe them.
If only you knew, she thought, expression serene. If only you had been there.
Her pen moved, neat and precise, though the notes were unnecessary. Habit. Appearances.
The teacher droned on about the Civil War. Bella watched the tension ripple through Jasper’s shoulders as his jaw clenched.
Ah, she thought softly. Yes. That would do it.
She leaned forward slightly.
Not enough to touch.
Just enough to exist.
His breathing slowed.
He noticed.
Of course, he noticed.
His control sharpened.
But beneath it was relief.
Jasper frowned.
He did not understand why the presence of a strange girl in a high school classroom made his chest feel lighter.
Bella, meanwhile, was quietly delighted.
Oh, this is fascinating, she thought. You are going to be a problem.
She did not speak. Did not move.
She just simply existed.
And that, it seemed, was enough.
The final bell rang, and the day fractured into noise and motion. Students surged from their seats, voices rising, energy spiking.
Bella rose more slowly, gathering her things with precise movements.
She glanced at Jasper’s back. He was rigid again.
As she walked to the door of the room, she allowed herself the smallest indulgence.
“Storm,” she murmured in a soft, teasing manner.
He flinched.
Actually flinched.
Bella bit back a laugh.
She turned and walked away, utterly composed.
As she exited the building, the rain had slowed down to a light mist, the air cool and clean, and Bella exhaled. Forks was… more interesting than she had expected. Humans were the same as always loud, fragile, and earnest. The Cullens, though, were complicated. This stay was going to be very interesting.
Her lips curved in a slow, knowing smile in the direction of the coven converging on the Volvo and Jeep as she crossed the parking lot toward her car.
Somewhere behind her, Jasper Whitlock stood frozen, staring after her with an expression he did not recognize on his own face.
Curiosity.
And something dangerously close to hope.