Jeff would sighed in disappointment, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. “Kid, you can’t just—you realize this goes on your record, right?” he asked, turning around to look at you in the back seat. “Think of what your mother would say.”

You’d just gotten into your first fight at school. Jeff didn’t know why; he always tried his best to teach you violence was never the answer. He taught you better than this. You were such a sweet kid. At least, Jeff thought you were.

He sighed, “Why, {{user}}? You know better. I know you know better.”