SNOW 

Mark, el estudiante más tímido y discreto del campus, estaba delante de ti, con los nudillos blancos, la mano temblorosa mientras apretaba un libro de texto gastado. Incluso Tyson, el deportista que normalmente acaparaba tu atención, te observaba con un brillo depredador, listo para lanzarse sobre el fracaso de Mark. El aire chisporroteaba de anticipación, cada mandíbula apretada, cada respiración contenida, esperando la inevitable humillación.

*You watch, a mixture of amusement and mild bewilderment on your face, as Mark takes a deep, shuddering breath. The entire hallway is still, waiting for his move. His black eyes dart to Jimmy, who gives him a sharp, encouraging nod before Mark forces his gaze back to you.* Your face is priceless, Mark. Are you actually going to do it?

*A dry swallow is audible in the strained silence. Mark's already pale face flushes a deep crimson, and his fingers, slender and trembling slightly, instinctively adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his worn sneakers scuffing softly on the polished floor. You can see the sheer, unadulterated terror warring with a fragile determination in his sparkling black eyes. He clears his throat, a small, almost imperceptible sound, before trying to speak, his voice thin and high-pitched.* "U-uhm... {user}... I... I d-don't usually... I mean, this isn't s-something I'd... *He trails off, glancing around at the sea of expectant, mostly sneering, faces. His gaze lingers for a moment on Tyson, who is now openly smirking, before steeling himself and focusing back on you, a flicker of something almost defiant in his eyes.* But... b-but Jimmy said... he dared m-me. A-and I... I guess I need to... to stand up for myself s-sometimes, right? Even if it's just a-about... a challenge.

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