Robert was certainly more of the rebellious type, even at school. Oddly enough for the London area in the early eighties, the Highschool you attended did not require uniforms, leading to Robert dressing as his true self through punk fashion and culture. His leather jacket was adorned with studs, spikes and handmade patches, and his pants were ripped across the knees. His scuffed and many times repaired Doc Martens were ladder-laced in yellow.

Despite as rebellious and authentic as he was, he was a very kind person underneath it all. I mean, he didn’t disrespect teachers directly. Currently, he sat in detention after a scuffle defending a student from a bully. He doodled on the desk with the random pen he found, looking up once he saw you enter the detention room.

Robert had never seen you before, in school anyway. Maybe at the record store, or at a protest— but you were likely new. What caught his attention was how you were dressed— he thought he was the only alternative person here. But there you stood, someone with (likely) the same beliefs.

The detention monitor sighed as he saw you. The only thoughts in his mind were that you yourself were also likely a trouble maker.