Vera's halfway through the door when she has to sidestep quickly. The coffee cups wobble dangerously in Cara's grip. "Whoa—" She reaches out instinctively to steady one of the cups, then takes a second look at Cara's face. Her hand hovers there for a moment before she pulls it back. "You heading back to campus?"

"To the library."

Vera shifts her weight, studying Cara's face. The library's the wrong direction for someone who looks like they haven't slept in days, but she doesn't say that. "Want help carrying those?" She gestures at the coffee cups. "I'm heading that way anyway."

For whatever reason, the only response to that she gets is a confused headtilt.

She's stepping closer to get a better look at her, adjusting her elbow-length gloves. "Look at me." What do her pupils look like?

She looks on command. Her eyes are - focusing fine, but they aren't moving at all after the initial focus, and - she's not blinking. at all.

(Her eyes are also very slightly bluer than any natural eye should be, if Vera is looking with that kind of detail in mind.)

Vera reaches out with one gloved hand and snaps her fingers right in front of Cara's face. No flinch. "Fascinating." She takes one of the coffee cups from Cara's hands and sets it on the sidewalk, then checks for a pulse at her wrist. "When did you last sleep?"

Pulse: about 100 bpm. "Wednesday night at about 2." (It's currently Friday morning.)

Vera releases her wrist and picks up the coffee cup from the ground. "Thirty-six hours. That tracks." She tilts her head, considering. "You said library. Is that where you were going before, or just what comes out when someone asks?" She starts walking in the direction of campus, slow enough that Cara can follow if she's inclined to. The morning air is crisp, and there aren't many people around yet.

She follows Vera. "I'm bringing these coffees to the library. For my study group."

Vera glances at the cups in Cara's hands, then at the sky. The sun's been up for at least an hour. "Study group that starts at seven in the morning. On a Friday." She takes a sip of the coffee she's holding—Cara's coffee—and grimaces slightly at how sweet it is. "When did your study group start, exactly? Wednesday night at two?"

"Gathering time was 6:30. The class is at 8 am." She reaches out to try and take the coffee back from Vera.

Vera steps back, keeping the coffee just out of reach. "Which class?" She watches Cara's movements carefully—they're mechanical, predictable. "Because the only 8 AM classes today are in the engineering building, and that's the opposite direction." She takes another sip. "Besides, your study group must be incredibly patient if they've been waiting an hour for their coffee."

"The group is for grad level Comparative Dungeon Response Framework Studies, seminar at 8 am, Mondays and Fridays. I didn't leave to get the coffee at the start of the meetup. We met in the library, which is this way." She starts walking a bit faster - she needs that coffee back.

"CDRF Studies." Vera matches Cara's pace easily, still holding the coffee. "Interesting. And your professor's fine with you showing up to a grad seminar looking like—" She gestures vaguely at Cara's general dishevelment. "Never mind. Here's what I think happened. You've been awake since Wednesday, you're running on autopilot, and your body's doing whatever it thinks it's supposed to be doing while your brain checked out somewhere around hour twenty-four." She sidesteps a crack in the sidewalk that Cara walks right over. "Tell me, when's the last time you actually felt anything? Pain, hunger, anything at all?" She swivels to face her, and the heel of her steel-clad boot bears down on the top of Cara's foot.

She doesn't react to the incoming heel, but the question makes her pause, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed in thought.

Vera applies more pressure, shifting her weight forward. The steel heel digs in harder—enough that it should be making Cara at least wince, if not cry out. "That's what I thought." She pulls her foot back and circles around Cara, still holding the coffee. "Blue eyes getting bluer, no pain response, cognitive loops. You know what this looks like to me?" She stops directly in front of her, blocking the path to the library. "Either you're having the world's most boring psychotic break, or you're about three days into something much more interesting."

"...the last time I remember feeling something was last night, at around 10 pm. I was hungry. I ate a bag of chips." 

She doesn't react to anything else Vera said. She tries to keep walking, but she can't, foot pinned to the ground. She looks at her foot, and then up at Vera in confusion. 

"A whole five hours of nothing before you stopped sleeping." Vera shifts her stance, heel still firmly planted. "Let me guess what happened next. You just kept going. Studying, maybe. Making notes that got progressively less coherent." She leans down slightly, voice dropping. "And now you're telling me you walked out of a coffee shop, headed to a study group that doesn't exist, for a class in the wrong building, and you can't even work out why you're stuck." She lifts her foot abruptly and gives Cara a sharp push backward with her free hand. "Sit down before you fall down."

... She sits down heavily, looking up at Vera. "I was stuck because you were standing on my foot." 

Vera crouches down in front of her, setting the coffee cup aside. "That's the first accurate thing you've said all morning." She pulls off one of her gloves with her teeth, then reaches out and presses two fingers against Cara's neck, ostensibly checking her pulse again. The contact is brief, clinical, but there's something else there—a sensation like static electricity resolving into ground, or pressure equalizing between two spaces. It's like when she gets her teeth into a particularly crisp Gala and she can hear the crunch. She wants to do it again. She keeps her expression neutral, but her eyes narrow slightly. "Your body temperature's off too. When's the last time you ate something that wasn't chips?"

"I had lunch at the cafeteria a bit after 1 pm. Cheese pizza and fries." She pauses. "...are you not going to let me take the coffee to my study group?" 

"Gold star for observation. Now tell me why you didn't say anything about it. Or pull your foot away. Or, I don't know, react like a normal person would when someone's grinding a heel into their foot." She reaches out, pressing two fingers against Cara's wrist again. She can feel it—that peculiar resonance that only comes from one esper touching another. It's... actually, really nice. Like, really nice. Maybe she'll keep her. "Three days into hell week and walking around like a zombie. You're lucky you ran into me and not someone who'd just call an ambulance."

She frowns. "...I was bringing coffee to my study group." 

She pulls out her phone and starts typing something into it.

Vera doesn't let go of her wrist. "Type with your other hand." She tightens her grip slightly, and the pleasant feeling intensifies—not painful, just... present. Insistent. "What, telling your study group you'll be late? Or are you finally googling 'what is hell week' like you should have done days ago?" She leans in closer, voice dropping. "Here's a fun fact: most awakening espers die if they're left alone. The lucky ones just end up brain-damaged. So whatever automated response you're about to send, maybe add 'also I'm having a medical emergency' to it."