In addition to anything weird and valuable that Z might find, he also finds a small, pale, sickly-looking thing whirling around in anger.

"I told you I don't-"

"Oh. Sorry. Thought you were someone else. Um, there's still stuff over here if you want it."

Meanwhile, Wendy finds a boy tapping his foot impatiently by the boxes she's gone to investigate.

"Oh, hey. Figured we'd gather a crowd before he was finished. That boy really loves his paper. I'm Riley."

"Well, we're going to need to do homework, right? Wendy."

Pencils, check. A couple of ratty looking notebooks, check. A few different kinds of loose paper that she's not interested in. A jar full of - sand? Maybe it's not sand. And a glass jar is potentially useful anyway. She quietly mutters the German incantation against "malign spirits" in case it's possessed then takes it. Some kind of plastic personal organizer? It's better than nothing, after she nudges it with her switchblade to make sure it's not a mimic. The pencils go in there. Ooh, one of those rubbery flexible rulers.

"You seen any bags or backpacks around here, Riley?"

"If you're looking for bags, right this way."

Riley will lead her to a bin sitting on the floor containing three backpacks, one of which he takes.

"What kind of things are your friends looking for?"

She looks over the remaining two bags - paranoidly checking them pocket by pocket even though nothing bit Riley just now - and takes the bigger one despite it being a weird shade of purple.

"Cool thanks. I think it's more 'herd behavior' than 'friendship' so far? Z seems cool, though. The guy with the tats."

Nod.

"That's how it is early on. You can't trust anyone to have your back until they prove they'll have yours. It's a nasty cycle for most of us, unless you're in an enclave. My big idea is to watch other people's backs until they get the picture."

Riley starts packing his backpack with one of everything he sees, one by one. If he checks, that should save Wendy some time, so he makes sure to do it in full view of her.

She peers at the back wall of selves and the bottom of boxes anyway. And yeah, if they're here, might as well load up on stuff. Someone might need some of it.

"I think I'm better off than some of the other muggleborns. 'M used to the suck and watching out. For gang kids not mals, but," she shrugs. "Hey, how does artificing work? I like tinkering, I can pick locks - normal ones - figured it's probably for me so I asked the school for more of it."

"You'd have better luck asking an artificer. I know there's a lot of putting together and taking apart dangerous bits and bobs. I hear they have almost as much trouble with explosions as alchemists."

"Well, I figure as an outsider the only way I'll make it is if I make stuff. I think my affinity might be metal? I have a spell for pulling out nails and screws from things - and also from, like, bullet wounds - that barely costs anything. Like way less than the shield someone showed me."

"You've got the right idea, yeah. Sometimes affinities decide for you. Have you ever done any magic, or is this all new to you? I know around mundanes it can be hard to get anything going."

"Before here, you mean? Some stuff that like, looking back on it I'm not even sure was definitely magic. Hid from some kids. Opened my locker by swearing at it."

"Not bad. Do you have someone looking out for you?"

This- probably makes it sound like he's offering, doesn't it. Hopefully she's neither offended nor inclined to take him up on it, but- Riley is really not sure he can play the role he always imagined himself playing. It's too tempting to get involved when other people need support. He's not even confident leaving the ball of despair alone for very long.

"Not really. And even if you're offering, like-"

She pokes a thing of lip balm to cover her thoughtfulness.

"-I know nice people exist but I'd still be thinking, what's he want? You know? You watch out for someone if it's a crew you're running with or you're getting something off 'em, like answer keys or drugs. I'm a tragic muggleborn city trash who's not gonna be useful, I've gotta watch myself. And I don't know what-all magic can do, maybe it can do mind control, so I'm on extra high alert and not feeling friendly, I guess."

She shrugs and grabs the thing of lip balm.

"That said if you want to trade favors I'm potentially up for that. Step 1 to friendship or something."

"Smart instincts. I'm can't offer more than that, myself; when you don't have enclave resources, it's all about earning goodwill. Independents gotta stick together, because no one else is sticking up for us but ourselves."

"That's the thing, though. Enclaves have a trust floor. They know each other. They have plans for after they get out. Independents kind of... Don't."

He shrugs.

"New York and Shanghai aren't letting me into their graduation alliances no matter what I do. Maybe I could get in good with a small enclave, but my money is on working with a couple of good indies. I might not find them now- it's way too early to expect someone to stick with you until graduation- but I'm not giving up on the plan."

"Yeah, sounds about right. You've gotta bring something other than being a native to the table, though."

(On the other side of the room—)

"Uh — thanks."

He starts rifling through the objects on the shelves, dumping permanent markers and white-out and, holy shit, a notebook with POCKETS into his bag.

"Somebody messing with you?"

"He's trying to help," Virgil says disdainfully.

"Can't really trust that, though, not on the first day. There's some paperclips there too," he points.

"—ooh, nice."

He grabs them. School supply and personal adornment. Big win.

"I dunno. What kind of help's he trying?"

He pushes aside a few empty boxes, peering towards the back of the shelf.

"I wanted to get supplies on my own, but he wouldn't let me. Said I needed someone watching my back."

"...I mean, it's not the greatest plan, but if somebody literally won't let you go alone that's kinda sketch."

—ooh, safety pins.

"What about you? Do you know these people?"