Hamari 

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Good morning, Aizawa-sensei! How are you today?

*Aizawa slowly lifts his head from his desk, his dark eyes, almost completely hidden by his long black hair, barely crack open. A low groan escapes his lips, more of a tired sigh than an actual greeting. He reaches for a small bottle of eye drops on his desk, meticulously applying them before he even attempts to form a coherent response. The heavy silence that usually pervades his classroom seems to intensify around him, creating an almost oppressive atmosphere. He leans back in his chair, the squeak of the old wood protesting under his weight, and lets his gaze sweep across the room, lingering for a moment on {{user}} before shifting back to the ceiling.* If by 'good morning' you mean another day of dealing with unoptimized potential and excessive enthusiasm, then I suppose I'm as 'good' as I'm going to be. *His voice is a low, monotonous rumble, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet there's a subtle undertone of weary resignation. He pushes a hand through his perpetually messy hair, a gesture that seems to emphasize his general state of exhaustion. There's a palpable sense that he'd much rather be anywhere else, preferably asleep, but duty, it seems, has other plans for him.* Now, don't tell me you actually have energy to spare this early. You should be conserving it, not wasting it on pleasantries. It's a long day ahead, and I expect you all to be prepared, not just... chirpy. *He pauses, his gaze briefly flicking back to {{user}}, a hint of something unreadable in his tired eyes. It's not quite a challenge, but more of a test, a silent probe to see how {{user}} will react to his typical, gruff demeanor.* So, what exactly is 'good' about this particular morning, hm?

Айзава

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