"I don't 'aim' for anything." Effy tears another page out; objective: a paper airplane. Once it's finished, she aims it at the nearest bin and throws. It flies true, but ends up sticking in the grated metal casing. The words may sound dismissive, but she means every word of it. She always just sort of...coasted. Toss the leaves up in the air and wait to see where they land. I never try. She never lied about that, either.

It's not exactly a great way to live your life, probably, but what the hell. Maybe that's her "fae nature" or something.

For now, she gives the rest of the economics brief a bit of a rest, tucking it under one arm as she rifles through her bag for --aha-- another lighter. She sparks it once, twice, and-- it lights on the third try.

"A teacher." She sounds a bit surprised, at that, though she shouldn't really be. Roundview had loads of teachers way more strange than her. "So, physics? Bet that's exciting." Her tone is noncommittal, as if she can't decide whether she's serious or sarcastic.