Lucy is eventually going to notice that one particular freshman has been hovering within earshot of all her conversations for the last ten minutes. He's not looking at her a suspicious amount, but this is mostly because his eyes never stop moving, scanning the room around him over and over and over. 

The student is, going by his appearance, most likely part of the African contingent – and, going by the (abject) quality of his gear, not an enclaver. He's taller than most of the other freshman, but almost skeletally thin; his ill-fitting pants, which have several unnameable stains on them, are held up at the waist with a length of rope used as a belt, but show several inches of scrawny ankle. He is technically wearing shoes, but they appear to be the sort of cheap plastic flip-flops more appropriate to a beach than the Scholomance. His brightly coloured, flower-patterned button-up shirt would look much more appropriate on an eighty-year-old retiree to Hawaii. The canvas rucksack slung over his shoulder looks decent quality, though, and fairly full. 

His eyes rest appraisingly on El as she departs from the conversation with Lucy. She looks like someone who's careful and clever and knows what she's doing. And also like she won't help anyone for free, so he had better get a move on figuring out what kinds of favours here people want and will trade for.