𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐁𖣠𝐘 . [Rinney]

( . . . 𝟓 )

"Robin Arellano."

"Fuck." He mumbled in response, "What?"

The old lady scowled at him, disgusted by such an inappropriate manner to respond within a popular college. "It's been... this is the first week and you already beat up someone."

Robin's eyes (which one was black) rolled and shifted into his seat, sighing loudly in attempt to make the old gag feel his annoyance. "That bitchass started first! Why am I the one getting thrown at the principal's?"

Her eyes opened in disgust, utterly shocked. "ARELLANO." She slammed her hand on the wooden desk: Robin didn't flinch in the slightest. "Such inappropriate way to express yourself!"

His eyebrows raised, staring intensely at these blue eyes in front of him: he was definitely going to walk all over her. "Okay, alright, dang. If I need to get the hell out of here, I'll be a good boy."

She pulled her glasses up to her nose with two fingers. "It seems that you threw a punch first."

"How the fuck did Moose even get in here?!" He grimaced. "Who's the dumbass that saw his sheets and said 'Oh! he looks appropriate for our so prestigious school!'"

"ARELLANO." She yelled, and Robin just groaned in response. "I'm going to expel you directly if you open that nasty mouth of yours again just to throw such a tantrum!"

Not going to deny that if it hadn't been for the Principal's ugliness, he would have taken things a little more seriously. She had a double chin, disturbing blue eyes, a pointed nose, red hair in a bun, and arms that were probably double Robin's.

"Sorry, sorry." He said, muffled. "Moose is the bad guy here, not me. He called me- he called me a... faggot and- I don't even know how he had the balls to do that to ME."

It was pointless. "Doesn't change the fact that you're the one who threw the first punch." She debated, which made Robin's blood boil.

What kind of thinking is this? "Can't I defend myself?" He asked.

"Not if it's through violence."

This was the first time he was getting kept inside in the Principal's Office for this long. And he did not like the sensation - old and smelly. The Smell of sweat.

"You do realize that he would have thrown it first anyway, right?"

She was getting fed up, but so was he. "Then he would be here instead of you."

"Are you saying," He pointed at himself, eyes squinting, as if he was about to tell a joke - and the woman's face? "That I should have been the one beaten up?" Hilarious.

"That's not what I'm-"

"Yes you are!" He answered, still sat comfortably on the chair, like it was his house's couch. "It's like, 'whoever keeps himself from beating the other up' wins."

"Your behavior is absolutely unaccepta—"

"This is-" he cut her off, "BULLSHIT." And he slammed his hand on the chair's arm.