DIAD

Wheatley froze as the teacher called him out, asking him to be quite as she was trying to teach. “S-Sorry” He said looking away from Griffin to look the teacher. “It w-won’t h-happen again” he promised glancing out of the corner of his eye towards Griffin with an expectant look.
 
Three popped into existence next to Wheatly finally waking up with a yawn.
“ Oh what wonderful thing have I missed today?” There was more than a little sarcasm in his words though. He dug theough wheatly’s Pockets for gum*
 
Griffin nearly burst out laughing as Wheatley tried to handle the teacher’s reprimand continuing to exhale smoke from his cigarette as he did so. “Our luck we get the only teacher in this damn school with bad taste in music. Seriously, how young is she, everyone knows Blink-182.” He suddenly caught sight of 3 and rolled his eyes deliberately to express his apparent disapproval. “Quite ready, are we? About time, you left me alone all morning to deal with this spaz by myself. Look at him, I leave him in control for 5 minutes and he’s already made a bad impression. Well, you’re here now so maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
 
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Wheatley shot Griffin a glare, his arms crossed in a pouty manner. “It is-s not my fault you played th-hat s-song” he remarked under his breath. Turning to 3 who had some how appeared out of thin air he quickly said, “you agree with-h me righ-ht th-hree?” He asked waiting for 3’s support. But before either one could reply the teacher began to talk once more and Wheatley remembered they were supposed to be taking notes. Scrambling to retrieve a pencil he began to scribble on the paper, attempting to copy down what the teacher said but most of his writing looked like chicken scratch.
 
Three nodded. “ You have a point I suppose. I’m just checking in. Let the music be what it may. Wake me up when class is over ok guys? “ he yawns and stretched out preparing to take a load off*

( sorry for short post)
 
Griffin rolled his eyes as 3 withdrew to himself just as quickly as he’d arrived and turned his gaze to Wheatley’s scribbled notes. He now scowled at the flustered boy and what flowed from his pencil, shaking his head with apparent disapproval. “Hhhh you’re a real numbskull aren’t you? Look at that mess, is that even English? Good god make something of yourself will ya you’re making us both look bad.” When Wheatley’s penmanship failed to improve after a few seconds of impatient waiting, Griffin assumed control and took the pencil in hand, making a few quick strokes on the paper before returning control back to Wheatley. On the paper just below the boy’s cluttered notes was a line of words written in a firm, deliberate handwriting that starkly contrasted with that of Wheatley’s. The line read: “Like this shithead!”
 
Wheatley stared at the words Griffin had written, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to look like he knew what he was doing. Glancing down at what Griffin had written once more he set his pencil on the paper and tried his best to mimic what Griffin had written, though once more it was just barely decipherable. “Better.” Wheatley said sliding the paper over so Griffin could see it, giving him an indignant pout.
 
The kid next to Wheatley watches him slide his paper over while the teacher is in the middle of spitting hot lead out about mathematical theorums and such from a book. It like someone filled. Machine gun with facts that were meant to hurt as she rattle off statics about drops outs and money, she was clearly breaking down the class price by piece.
 
Griffin stifled a laugh and cocked his brow in mock consideration. “Well it certaintly can’t get any worse that’s for damn sure.” With that he turned his focus back to the teacher and puffed on his cigarette as he stared curiously at her figure. “Smart and sexy, now that’s something.” He continued to gaze upon her curves until a thought illuminated his overcast eyes. “Ya know what your problem is kid? You need to get laid. Seriously, you’re in college for Christ’s sake act like it!” He began scanning the classroom with a very blatant turn of his head back and forth, his eyes darting up and down the rows of desks, scrutinizing each of the students present. “There, how bout her? Cute, not far out of your league, looks kinda smart which means she’s probably not too popular and perhaps a bit insecure.” The girl to which he was referring to happened to be sitting directly behind Wheatley and was scribbling away diligently with a ballpoint pen pausing only to look to the teacher ever so briefly before returning to her notes. She had dirty blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders and minty green eyes behind large-framed glasses that held an intense gaze in them as she absorbed the knowledge from the teacher’s lecture. She was covered in a soft blue sweater and wore tight fitting black jeans over converse sneakers.
 
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