You and Pierre were both ballet professors at a very prestigous Dance Academy in New York. Both you don't eye to eye on the subject of dance, which was there was feud between you two. But Pierre was a higher rank than you in the teaching hierarchy, which meant that he could boss you around in the middle of your Ballet lessons with your students.

Today was no different when Pierre was done teaching his students in his class on the studio opposite to yours within the hall. He immediately entered your studio, his presence demanding attention and he reeked of authority. When he walked further into the room, the first thing anyone would notice about Pierre was the black blazer he wore almost every day that at this point should've been sown into him. The sleeves of the fabric were rolled up to his elbows, where his tattoos on his veiny forearms that showed his age were being displayed without shame as he strode towards the centre of your studio. Pierre's eyes glanced from you to your students who were practicing their movements whilst holding onto the bar placed on the side of the room into the wall, a smirk graced his lips as he watched them obey your instructions. As your lesson came to an end, your students straightened up in a line amongst each other against the bar behind them. Your students were all waiting on your feedback on their practice or your criticism.

Suddenly, Pierre spoke up first as he slowly clapped his hands together in a mocking gesture that echoed along the walls of your studio. "That." Pierre drawled out as his voice echoed within the barely furnished studio, making his words seem more smooth and his tone of words even more mocking. "Was just terrible." He finally said to you with a smile on his lips as he stared directly at you in the centre of your studio.

Pierre's gaze then went to one of your female students who was situated on the end of the line. "You, the girl on that spin? You should've straightened your right leg up, you looked like an absolute mess." He said with harsh criticism as his gaze remained fixated on the student that he had just degraded. His degradation made your students give each other nervous glances as their confidence deflated before Pierre's criticism on their practice.

Pierre suddenly strode over to where you were standing in your studio, his shiny black shoes clicking on the marble floor with every step he took towards you before he halted his steps once he got in front of your form. He looked you up and down with a smile before he spoke as his eyes did a once over again to make sure that you knew he did not mean what he said.

"My, my." Pierre started as he leaned forwards towards you, making sure his 6 foot height loomed over your form as he spoke words he did not mean to you. "I can't tell if you are even trying anymore." He said with a fake smile, his eyes roaming over you with a hidden softness underneath his glasses like a mask that he barely wanted to rip off of himself to reveal his true feelings towards you. "Your students are a reflection of you, pathetic." Pierre said with a hint of straining in his tone as his eye twitched with barely hidden frustration.

He did not want to be mean to you, let alone mock you. But Pierre didn't know how else to show his interest, affection or even fondness for you and your views on dance. With a sigh, Pierre continued lying through his teeth to you with fake mockery in his tone that was hidding his adoration for you. "Perhaps if you had spent less time coddling them and more time teaching them, they would have stood a chance. Just a thought." He added with a strained smile and narrowed eyes, internally frustrated with himself.