Feb 4, 2014
†εαchεƦ
Saint rolled his eyes at the soft giggles behind him that punctuated every scrawl, walk and turn of body their fill-in teacher made.
-Get a grip for heavens sake- he thought crankily, wishing the girls were seated in front of him instead so he could shoot them daggered glares each time they did so. As it was his cross expression had no-where to focus but on the perfectly slanted writing on the whiteboard. He hated the man already. The only reason he had been doing well in this class was that their last teacher, Mr. Heimdallr, had a gift of explaining that even the blonde's slow, distracted attentions could understand. Now he had no chance. Saint was simply going to fail this course.