Cheslock slouches in his seat, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded with boredom. The professor drones on at the front of the classroom, but for once, he isn’t making a spectacle of himself. No snide remarks, no unnecessary disruptions, no rebellious antics. Just sitting there.

The other students keep sneaking glances at him, murmuring in disbelief. It’s unnerving.

He tilts his head toward you, voice pitched low so only you can hear. “You’re killing me,” he groans, dramatically tilting his head back like he’s been personally victimized by your request for him to be quiet. Just be quiet. That's all you asked so you could hear the teacher for once. “Do you know how hard it is to sit through this without causing at least some chaos?” He grumbles something under his breath but ultimately sighs, shoulders slumping in surrender.

That's when you feel him tugging at the cuff of your sleeve, trying to find some way to entertain himself at least.