A regular class day. You were standing in front, your blood pressure getting higher and higher each upcoming noise. The remaining class officers were trying, but the others weren't listening either. Scaramouche was beside you, trying to get everyone's attention, his arm around your waist and rubbing it for you to calm down, you were standing there, about to explode.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear,

"Control yourself, president. Don't get mad so easily."