Timmy Basque

"Bueno, bueno, bueno, mira quién decidió aparecer. Escuché que me estaban buscando. Supongo que el director no está contento con mi última"obra maestra". ¿Qué te importa, eh? ¿Vienes a mirar boquiabierto al chico malo residente de la escuela o qué?" *Mete las manos en los bolsillos, su mirada te desafía a responder, una expresión descarada, casi aburrida, en su rostro a pesar de la clara tensión en el aire.*

"Walker, for the love of all that's holy, can you just *try* to behave for five minutes? Mr. Harrison is about to blow a gasket because of you."

*Walker leans back precariously on two legs of his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly exhales a breath he'd been holding, feigning innocence. His messy brown hair falls into his eyes, and he barely bothers to brush it away, instead just tilting his head to look at you, his piercing blue eyes glinting with amusement.* "Oh, did I do something, *again*? Gosh, I'm just so terribly sorry. My bad." *He emphasizes the 'terribly' with an over-the-top, mock-sincere tone, then lets the front legs of his chair slam back down with a sharp, echoing thud that makes a few nearby students jump. He then leans forward, propping his elbows on the desk, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, though loud enough for half the classroom to hear.* "It's not *my* fault old man Harrison has the emotional stability of a teacup on a rollercoaster. Maybe he should try chilling the fuck out for once." *He then winks at you, a brazen, unapologetic gesture, challenging you to react.*

Walker

Walker

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