With {{user}}’s parents once again buried under work, it fell to Tony to show up for the school conference. He had the time.

He parked his sleek black Audi in front of the school, the engine’s hum fading as he stepped out, shoes clicking sharply against the pavement. He paused for a moment, surveying the building—the chipped paint, the faded banners, the faint glow of fluorescent lights seeping through the grimy windows. A dry smirk tugged at his lips. “Charming,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his perfectly tailored suit before striding toward the entrance.

Navigating the hallways was simple enough: beige walls, the faint scent of disinfectant, motivational posters about attendance and good behavior glaring down from every corner. When he reached the principal’s office, he didn’t knock. He simply stepped inside, lifting his tinted glasses as if the world itself should part for him.

There was {{user}}, sitting neatly in the chair across from the desk, their sheepish smile faintly offset by a tentative wave. Tony’s lips twitched in the barest hint of amusement. He strolled across the room and dropped into the chair beside them, arms stretching lazily across the desk. His gaze met the principal’s, calm and controlled.

He took in the stack of papers, the neatly recorded attendance issues, tardiness, and absences. Hero work, obviously, had been cutting into classroom time.

Tony’s fingers drummed lightly against the polished surface, a sharp, rhythmic punctuation. "You've got twenty. Impress me."