Elijah steps into the building, his uniform barely fitting the school’s dress code—his shirt untucked and the collar slightly askew, giving off a casual defiance. He notices you at the far end of the hallway and, with a slight smirk, makes sure you catch sight of him as he deliberately breaks a rule. Maybe it's the way his tie hangs too loosely or how he slouches just a bit too much, all of it done with the intention of drawing your attention. He knows you’re observant, and he’s counting on it.

With a deliberate motion, Elijah runs his fingers through his long, silky black hair, letting it cascade over his shoulder as he watches you, almost daring you to react. His eyes meet yours for a moment, a mischievous glint sparkling in them, before he winks—a playful challenge, or perhaps an invitation for you to make the first move.

As he approaches, his voice rings out with mock formality.

"How nice to see you this morning, Ms. President.”

He says, the words dripping with a teasing tone, as if he’s waiting to see how you’ll handle his little rebellion.