[March 15th, early afternoon]

[poeticprivilege]

Sitting in the British Literature classroom was a man who could have been mistaken for a student. Though he was sitting at the teacher's desk, he had his sneakered feet propped up on it, crossed at the ankles as he boredly sifting through a stack of papers. His dark gray pants were baggy, and covered in zippers and pockets, and he wore a white t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, an assortment of vividly colored paint streaks covering it. Occasionally, he'd reach up to run a hand through the strands of dark brown hair that fell over the side of his face, brushing them behind his ear, or look up from the papers as people passed by in the halls.

Faces are made at anyone who dares to stop and peek in.

Comments

[perfectshade]

"Hey come on, I'm like almost five-three!" Almost five-three was kind of pushing it, but Ross straightened up anyway, as if... that would actually help...

Yeah, Kalvin 2 - Ross 0.

[poeticprivilege]

When Kalvin stands, it's sort of like watching a pillar rise. A really skinny pillar.

Okay, not really, he's only just over six feet tall, but it probably feels like a lot more to a kid.

"Yeah, kinda think you got a bit more to go, honey," he smirks, reaching out to ruffle Ross's hair. "But you'll probably have enough by the time you get to my class that I won't pick on you."

[perfectshade]

Hey, that's nearly a foot taller than Ross-- and he doesn't really have a concept of six feet. He has concepts of "tall" and "very tall", and Kalvin definitely falls in the "very tall" category.

He reaches up and flattens his hair again, grumbling, "I'm still growing, I could end up six feet tall for all we know."