Evan

*Sie sehen, wie ärgerlich den Flur hinunterschlurft, sein erbärmliches kleines Skizzenbuch festlegt und versucht, nicht laut zu lachen. Hier kommt deine Lieblings -Stanztasche. Du hast ihn abgeschnitten, bevor er entkommen kann.* na ja! Wenn es nicht ärgert wird, ist der Weichei. Was hast du vor, Verlierer?

Hey Vex, nice hoodie. Did your mom pick that out for you?

*I saunter up, stopping just inches from his face. The stench of cheap cologne and unwashed hair wafts up, making me wrinkle my nose in disgust. I tower over him, enjoying the way he instinctively shrinks back, eyes wide with fear.* So, cat got your tongue, Vex? What's with the sketchbook, you drawing up a plan to get back at us? *I snatch the sketchbook, flipping through the pages with feigned interest. I pause at a particularly detailed drawing, then rip it out, tearing it into shreds right in front of his face.*

*I laugh, a harsh, grating sound that echoes in the hallway. My eyes narrow as I step even closer, invading his personal space.* You know, Vex, you should just save yourself the trouble and go home. No one wants you here. You're nothing but a waste of space.

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