“No reason,” I said quietly, taking a moment to look at her more carefully.

Five or six inches shorter than me (making her 5’7” or 5’6”)... shortish blonde hair tied back into a stubby ponytail with a blue-dyed streak swept back over her right ear. Pale skin; strangely hazel eyes. She carried herself almost like a gymnast, her feet-

“DING!” The elevator pointedly interrupted and I stepped inside. She followed and I pressed the button for the 4th floor.

“Is it safe to talk yet?” Nervously, like the danger had just started to dawn on her.

Of course, given how she was dressed… navy blue hoodie, yellow sweatpants, and $3 flip-flops, all emblazoned with the university logo… it wasn’t surprising. She probably just got here today.

No. Strike that. Can’t let her reel me in like that. This is a prank. No traversable wormhole can form a retrograde temporal curve, everyone knows that! Nobody just hops in a time machine without a good enough plan to not need help from the natives.

“DING!” The door slid open.