✢⁎. cutting class
Another day, another adventure. This time, Lon'qu has the misfortune of being around at the monastery during class time. The halls are like a ghost town, populated by none. As he walks between the dining hall (also empty) and training grounds, he remarks at how the atmosphere is totally different without the densely populated crowds.
That is, of course, until a bright bob of red comes into view. It's hard to miss, like the burning rays of a setting sun. And for a while he would stop on his walk to stare, marveled at the first sign of life in the past forty minutes. But when it moves again--rather sneakily--Lon'qu snaps back to reality. "Wait a minute."
He snatches the teen by the back of his collar. Effortlessly, Ewan is raised into the air by the much stronger man--the few feet he dangles from highlighting their height difference. "Where do you think you're going?" Lon'qu barks, with absolute severity laced in his voice, "Class is supposed to be in session."
He doesn't quite care if Ewan squirms or kicks. Any discomfort at this point is the result of is own playing hooky.
His face is then brought real close to Lon'qu's, enough to where he would be able to catch a glimpse at its scowl. It's not pretty. Granted, it usually isn't, but the crease in his brow and unamused glare aren't doing him any favors. A small hum escapes him as the swordsman looks closer. He's trying to read any signs of dishonesty or guilt written across the student's face--assuming right off the bat that anyone in his position would open with a lie.
Guarding these kids includes ensuring that they have a rich and distraction-free education, or so he was told. He's pretty sure acting as hall monitor is a means to that end.
//starter for @eagerfutureflame
