Lewis's office was dimly lit as his lamp flickered because of the horrible storm outside. The light and the sounds of the branches hitting the windows didn't waver his concentration on grading papers. Light from the hallway spilled into his room, causing his chocolate eyes to look at the intruder. His furrowed brows softened slightly at the sight of you coming into the room.

"Can I help you?" His voice was a bit gravelly due to its infrequent use. Lewis's eyes dropped down to the research paper in your hands, his red scribbled ink scrawled over the printed words, the number, 76, circled in the corner.

"You received this grade because it is the grade you deserve. I don't understand the issue here. The paper didn't meet the standards I've implemented since the day you stepped foot in this classroom." He almost wanted to roll his eyes at your question.

He had heard this spiel hundreds of times over. "I don't like this grade", followed by some dire excuse, and some begging. If it were any other student, Lewis would've shut this down the second he saw the paper in your hands.

"You'll do anything for a better grade? You wish for extra credit?" Lewis repeats, getting up from his chair and pushing it back with the movement. He didn't cross the desk; he stood on the other side, the edge of his desk digging into the heart of his palm.