Phillips Academy, September 1977
The oak-paneled dining hall of Phillips Academy hummed with privileged conversation. Caspian sat at one of the ancient tables, his enhanced vision automatically cataloging minute details even as he maintained focus on his lunch companion's animated discussion of theoretical physics.
"See, that's where everyone gets quantum tunneling wrong," Tony Stark insisted, sketching equations on a napkin with characteristic intensity. "They focus on the particle physics when they should be looking at the wave functions."
Caspian took a careful bite of his salad, appreciating how Tony's mind jumped between concepts with almost manic energy. In the three weeks since term began, he'd found himself genuinely enjoying the younger Stark's company. Despite the carefully crafted public image of careless wealth both their families projected, they shared a deep appreciation for complex problems.
"The traditional models are too limited," Caspian noted, sliding the napkin back with a minor correction to one equation. "They fail to account for variable state potential."
Tony's eyes lit up as he processed the modification. "Exactly! That's what I've been trying to tell Professor Matthews, but he's still stuck in 1960s theoretical frameworks." He paused, glancing at Caspian's lunch. "Also, how are you eating that rabbit food? The kitchen actually made decent pizza today."
"Some of us prefer not to subsist entirely on caffeine and carbohydrates."
"Hey, I had a vegetable yesterday. Pretty sure there was tomato sauce involved."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Marcus Wells, captain of the lacrosse team and living embodiment of old money arrogance. "Stark, you're needed in the science lab. Something about your latest experiment trying to achieve sentience."
Tony grinned. "That's not supposed to happen until next week." He gathered his books, pausing briefly. "You coming, Valemont?"
Caspian shook his head slightly. "I have a literature discussion group. Try not to create artificial life before calculus."
"No promises." Tony hurried off, already pulling components from his blazer pockets.
Marcus lingered, his pose carefully calculated to project authority. "You know, Valemont, you don't have to humor Stark just because your fathers work together."
Caspian continued eating with precise movements, not bothering to look up. "Thank you for your concern, Marcus. I'm sure you have better things to do than worry about my social choices."
"I'm just saying, there are better connections to make here. The right associations matter."
Now Caspian did look up, his eyes meeting Marcus's with calm intensity. "Indeed they do. Which is why I choose to associate with genius rather than inherited mediocrity trying to maintain relevance through social maneuvering."
Marcus's face flushed, but years of prep school training prevented an outburst. "You might want to watch that attitude, Valemont. Not everyone appreciates your family's... particular approach to things."
"Noted," Caspian replied simply, returning to his lunch. His enhanced vision tracked Marcus's departure, cataloging the subtle signs of wounded pride that would need to be managed through appropriate social channels. Unnecessary conflict was inefficient.
The afternoon sun slanted through stained glass windows, painting the dining hall in shades of amber and blue. Caspian consumed the remainder of his lunch with precise movements, each bite measured and deliberate. Around him, the carefully orchestrated dance of prep school society continued - alliances forming and dissolving, social currency being traded, futures being shaped by teenage politics.
He had a literature discussion in seventeen minutes. The subtle complexities of human interaction were, in their way, as intricate as any combat scenario. Different variables, but equally demanding of precise calculation.