The fact that James and Walter had ended up taking the same journalism class for a gen ed requirement was pure coincidence. The way Walter had glommed onto James almost from the first day of class - from the moment he found out who he was, actually - is maybe a little less so. Still, from a certain angle it kind of makes sense; Walter is a freshman, like most of the rest of the class, and James is one of only two upperclassmen in it, so maybe he's just clinging to someone whom he assumes has got his shit more or less figured out in hopes that some of that wisdom will transfer to him via osmosis. And as nervous and withdrawn as Walter usually seems, he probably needs all the help he can get.

However, things have just taken a turn for the weird as fuck.

The professor had given them an assignment to be done in pairs: find a local landmark of some relatively obscure historical interest, and write a 2100-word article on it. Walter had suggested - well, more like demanded - that their subject should be South Ashfield Heights, the apartment complex that James's father was superintendent of. His rationale was supposedly that sometimes you can learn the most about a town and its history from some of its most mundane structures; however, it's become clear that he already knows a downright creepy amount of information about the building.

As they head back from Pleasant River to Ashfield on the subway, he's telling James what he's found out about the architect who designed the place; he seems happier and more animated than James has ever seen him.