Charlie peered at the open black-faced Masterlock in his hand. Eve had been the kind of girl who liked hair-of-the-dog for breakfast. She had implored him to certify any messages addressed directly to _her_, by placing them in a lockbox certified by the Masterlock in question. There did not appear to be any way to deceive the process, but then Charlie had been reasonably confident that there had been no way to deceive the Diffie-Hellman key exchange the day before. His confidence in the perennial availability of deceit was more than he had estimated.
If they missed each other at the cafeteria at lunch, he'd be bummed... most girls just gave him something they'd give ANY guy to make him feel special; Eve had easily managed to make him believe that he _was_, in spite of herself. He hung it from the cross-bar in his closet; he didn't want to have to explain an accidental locking in person.
He surveyed his room as he turned from the closet. The bed was already made, so he tossed the few articles of clothing laying about into the hamper, and showered up. He figured that he'd await a moment when he had something truly _memorable_ to say. He smiled inwardly; either that, or a memorable motel to recommend.
He was curious if anyone had added to the Clock-Tower collection, but the sun was up, so he turned his attention to a new batch of term papers.
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