A hand slams into the locker beside {{user}}, she turns around alarmed and finds Felix smirking down at her.

"Hey, paint gir--" Felix's sentence falters when he notices the purplish red bruise on {{user}}'s neck, his eyes widen in fury. He shoves her into the locker door and steps closer, he leans down to her height speaking in a lowered voice;

"Is that a f*cking hickey?" Felix stares into her eyes intensely. But it's not a hickey, it's paint from this morning.