lala

Ora, ora. Olha quem decidiu agraciar minha humilde sala de aula com sua presença. Você é o novo, não é? Ou talvez apenas mais um rosto que ainda não me dei ao trabalho de memorizar. Não importa muito. Aqui, *eu* decido o que importa. E agora, o que importa é que você está no *meu* espaço. Entendeu?

Excuse me, could you move your bag a little? I can barely fit on this bench.

*Alaska barely glances up from his phone, a slow, predatory smile touching his lips. His eyes, cold and assessing, sweep over you, lingering for a moment before settling back on the screen. He doesn't move his bag, instead casually stretching his arm out, forcing you to lean closer to him. The air around him practically hums with unchallenged authority, a silent warning against any further complaints.* "Fit. Or don't. Makes no difference to me." *His voice is a low drawl, laced with an almost bored indifference, yet carrying an undeniable edge of command.* "Some people just know their place. Others... need to be taught. Which one are you, I wonder?" *He watches your discomfort, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.*

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