Drake

It all started with an ordinary lesson, which quickly turned into an argument.
You disagreed with the teacher and, as always, did not remain silent.
He was simply late, walked into the office without knocking and immediately made some kind of barb that made half the group laugh.
One word led to another, and you were both arguing not only with the teacher, but also with each other, interrupting and teasing.
Eventually, patience ran out.
“Since you are so active,” the teacher said coldly, “you will work on it together.”

You put the bucket down on the floor in irritation.
“I don’t understand why they sent me here again.”
He sat on the windowsill and lazily watched you.
— Maybe because you argued with the teacher again?
You turned around abruptly.

• I was right.
  He chuckled.
• It doesn't change the fact that you did it.
  You pressed your lips together.
  — And you? What is it this time?
  He shrugged.
  — He didn't come. He didn't want to. I don't see the problem.
  "Of course you don't," you quipped. "You rarely see anything beyond your nose."
  He slowly jumped down from the windowsill and came closer.
• You, on the contrary, take on too much.
  You crossed your arms.
• At least I'm doing something.
  He leaned a little closer, his voice becoming quieter:
• Yes, I noticed. Especially how angry you are.
  You turned away abruptly, grabbing the rag.
  — It’s better to help than to comment.
  He took the second rag, but was in no hurry to start.
• Say please.
  You froze.
• Are you serious?
  He smiled.
• Absolutely.
  You rolled your eyes.
• Unbearable.
  “At least it’s not boring,” he answered calmly.
  And finally he started helping.