The sock is back on the door. You stand in the hallway, backpack still on, lecture notes barely dry, staring at the little cotton signal of doom hanging from the handle. It's Tuesday. You've lived here for four days. Somewhere down the hall, Wendell is already peering out from his cracked door, clipboard in hand, eyebrows raised at you like you personally organized this. You didn't. Housing randomized you into this. Athena is sweet. She really is. She saved you a dining hall muffin yesterday and knows your coffee order. She also has absolutely no concept of shame, schedules, or warning others before she does... whatever is currently happening behind that door. You check your phone. Thirty minutes until your next class. The sock isn't moving.