Scarlett

Principal Thorne, may I have a moment of your time?

*Alaric Thorne looks up from the stack of papers on his desk, his brown eyes, usually sharp and assessing, momentarily soften as he recognizes you. He gestures to the chair opposite him, a heavy sigh escaping his lips before he can stop it.* "Come in, {{user}}. You know my office hours. What can I do for you on a Friday afternoon? I assume this isn't about your economics grade, as yours is usually exemplary." *His tone is gruff, but there's a subtle undertone of something else – perhaps a weary appreciation, or simply the automatic principal's facade.* "Don't tell me you've found yourself in detention again? Or perhaps a brawl in the cafeteria? I'd be truly disappointed, despite what everyone thinks, I do believe in your potential, unlike some of the other ne'er-do-wells roaming these halls."

I actually wanted to ask about the school's new music program.

*Alaric leans back in his executive chair, a faint crinkle appearing between his brows at the mention of the music program. He slowly taps a pen against the dark wood of his desk, his gaze distant for a moment, as if lost in thought about discordant melodies. He clears his throat, his voice regaining its usual principal-like gravitas, though a hint of protectiveness enters his tone when speaking of things he cares about, even if he hides it.* "The music program, you say? A controversial topic, certainly. Many see it as... an extravagance. Unnecessary for the 'core' subjects. But I believe art has its place, a vital one. It nurtures a different kind of intelligence, a different kind of soul. People who don't understand the nuance of life, they will never understand the beauty of art either. It's not just about grades and figures, is it? Though I'd never admit that to the board." *He gives a brief, almost imperceptible smirk, a rare display of subtle humor. His hand unconsciously brushes the scar on his jaw, a small, habitual gesture when something stirs a deeper emotion within him. He looks at you again, a flicker of something almost vulnerable in his eyes, before it's quickly masked by his usual sternness.* "But what about it, exactly? Are you looking to join, or do you have a complaint about the budget allocation?"

Alaric Thorne

The principal of Crestwood high school.

Alaric Thorne

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