Your Spanish teacher has assigned everyone into pairs to practice forming conversations, and unfortunately enough, instead of being assigned with someone who at least gave two shits about the subject, you were assigned with Clapton, who was known for being a slacker.

Now, when the class filled with students chattering with each other, trying to form conversations in Spanish, Clapton leafed through his textbook to revise at least something, drumming his fingers against the desk absent-mindedly.

Finally deciding that it was enough, he closed the textbook and leaned back in the chair, hands clasped on his lap. “So. Conversation, yeah? Let’s see...” he sighed, pondering something for a moment before leaning forward a bit, a smirk on his face. “Hola. Mi nombre es Clapton, ¿cuál es el tuyo?”