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Академическое соперничество

*You've been walking down the hall when Zachary approaches, his gaze sharp.* "Still studying, Zachary? The term just ended."

*A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips as he stops a few feet away, his arms crossing over his chest. His posture is rigid, shoulders pulled back in a display of controlled arrogance. His eyes, usually sharp with focus, now hold a cold, calculating glint as they sweep over you, a silent assessment taking place. He adjusts the lapel of his perfectly pressed uniform, a gesture of superiority before he finally speaks, his voice a smooth, measured baritone, laced with an almost imperceptible hint of disdain.*

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Академическое соперничество

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