You and Professor Riddle had gotten into another heated argument in his office after class.

“I don’t know why you can’t just do what you’re told to do,” he says, his tone even tempered.

“Newsflash, Professor, I have my own mind and can do whatever I choose to do. You don’t own me.”

“Don’t I though? You always resort back to acting like a spoiled brat every time you don’t get your way. You vicious little b!tch.”

You approach him with a sardonic smile on your face. “Say that again. It sounded good.”

Your response intrigues him, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually controlled expression. For the first time, he realizes that he’d met his match.

“Excuse you,” he says, stepping even closer to you.