[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

[borntolose]

"Darlin'," Eddied growled, "I could break your fucking face to pieces and every bone in your fucking body, and you'd still never be just like me. Don't make me laugh."

The words were spat, dripping with bitterness and scorn. Oh, yeah, he could tell Kalvin liked breaking things, but he wouldn't do it honest, oh, no, he'd just fucking push and push. "I don't want it, and I don't give two shits if I understand it. So piss off, you silly bint, some of us have to work for a fucking living."

Breathing heavily, he turned from the teacher to head for the door. He was not, not going to be provoked into doing something that could get him kicked out of here. And if the ponce liked breaking things, that'd probably be a fun game for him, too - no. He wasn't playing. No matter how much he wanted to show the other man a thing or two.

[poeticprivilege]

"This is a job, you know," he rolled his eyes, but smirked to himself, dropping into his chair as Eddie charged past the desk. He let the big man go without further comment; there was no point in provoking him further. He had better things to do.

Like come up with lesson plans. He hummed to himself as he picked up a pen and pulled a clean sheet of paper towards himself. He didn't care much for the 'recommended materials' he was expected to use, so he needed to pick out things that fit the criteria but suited his tastes better. Eddie was right, after all. He did like to push and bend and twist things, pushing to see just how far he could go, just what he could get away with.

And Eddie did seem to have an awful lot of buttons to push.

Hee.