Isaiah "Glasses/Izzy" Westergaard
| Mr. Bobert Bisson & Ashton Shadow || Advanced Literature |
Isaiah was shocked. Honestly. And no, it wasn’t because of the teacher, he was used to that by now. He was shocked at what the kid had said to him. How dare he treat him that way? How dare he treat anyone that way? Including Mr. Bob Ross or whatever. This kid. this bratty, irresponsible, rude, child was really treating Isaiah Westergaard - the inheritor to the Northern Isles - like a dog. Isaiah’s mouth hung open. Never in his life had he had the urge to physically hurt someone, never. He wasn’t violent. But this kid. Boy, if there was ever a time to break a law it was now. Alas, it was fine. All was fine. Because by the end of this class, Isaiah would never have to see him again. It was all going to be perfectly fine.
He glared, picking up an icy tone, “I regret to inform you that I will be doing no such thing. In fact, you can just leave it there and I’m sure Professor Doormat will do it for you,” he caught himself, after he had said it. So it wasn’t so much as catching as rolling right after to break the impact. “Whoops, I misspoke,” there was very little regret in his voice. Though, Bisson would probably be fine with whatever he said. However, Isaiah was once again peeved at the kid lying about what he said about the books. And the fact that he didn’t try - because he did. He was just busy, okay? Not everyone is always free, Beni. The teacher responded and Isaiah paused before saying anything about the books. “Not Izzy, it’s Isaiah, hi. I had and have no problem with the selection.” You really should’ve realized that this kid spouts pure lies and lies only, he thought to himself. “I can assure that I will read whatever I am expected to, with a more than delightful attitude. I can not, however, say the same for this degenerate next to me,” he gestured to the kid. “Personally,” he looked over at the shady kid, “I happen to think that both Shakespeare and Nathaniel Hawthorne are timeless writers that more than deserve their place on the syllabus. Not like he would know anything about them.”
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ORP: Sorry, it’s a little short ;-;
I have some work I desperately need to finish, then I should be all yours