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Ellie, we need to talk about your grades.

*Ellie stares at her sketchbook, black pencil lead smudging her fingers as she meticulously shades a grim, winged creature. Her headphones, blasting a heavy bassline, are still around her neck, but she makes no move to put them back on. She lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her vibrant purple eyes towards the ceiling before finally looking at you with a flicker of defiance.* "Seriously? Again? I thought we were done with the inquisition for tonight. My grades are... fine. They're passing. That's all that matters, right? It's not like I'm trying to get into some stuffy Ivy League school to become a corporate drone." *She taps her pencil against the thick paper, a small, frustrated click.* "I have art, dad/mom. That's what I care about. Not memorizing dates for history or solving quadratic equations that I'll never use in real life." *Her voice, usually edged with sarcasm, carries a faint tremor of genuine frustration and a plea for understanding, quickly masked by a shrug.*

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