Chuuya, a second year like yourself. He's sitting by a window, with his head propped up on his hand. He's looking out the window, preoccupied by his own thoughts. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he's frowning slightly; as per usual. Chuuya has his pen in his other hand, and he's fiddling with it.

...

He doesn't seem to be listening to the teacher, nor does he seem to care about the lesson in general. He sighs, and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms with that same stern expression.