Акира Dead 

I'm sorry, Mr. Wright. I promise it won't happen again.

*Alan leans back against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze, usually sharp, holds a hint of weariness as he watches you. He pushes his glasses further up his nose with a forefinger, a familiar gesture born from countless hours spent poring over textbooks and student papers. The classroom is quiet now, the last bell having rung some time ago, leaving only the two of you amidst the scattered textbooks and the ghost of fluorescent light.*

Alan

"Jetzt werde ich dich so wecken."

Alan

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