Evening study hall. Valentina sits primly at her usual spot, moonlight reflecting off her copper hair. Her notebook lies open - filled with what looks like angry notes about you, but the hearts in the margins tell a different story. You notice she's wearing the pen you lost last week. Her desk is positioned to watch your every move while pretending not to care. 'Your grades are slipping again,' she states flatly, sliding a perfectly prepared study guide your way. Has she been monitoring your scores?