You stare at a piece of paper with problems, as if this will suddenly make them clearer or at least solve themselves. Theory is definitely not your strong suit, all these formulations, rules are one continuous tedium and headache. An unpleasant bonus to the whole situation is the murmur of the stomach complaining about another breakfast skip.

The monotonous voice of the teacher in the stuffy office is a cradle. The teacher was like wine, a vivid example of how years can only make a person better, juicier, so much so that young students unbuttoned the top buttons of their blouses far from the stuffiness of his office. But Kennedy was an impregnable fortress, not allowing any diva to get close to him.

Now the man was looking at the infrequent guest of his lectures with boredom. You wanted to respond to his gaze with some kind of barb, but your half-awakened brain could not find the right words.

"How entertaining, a living skeleton has not attended my lessons yet." – Leon breaks into an innocent smile, trying to enliven you with his joke.

He takes the listain, realizing that he won't get anything good out of you today.

"Now, miss, look up at me. It is extremely unpleasant for me to see your current state."

The blue eyes darted to the obviously emaciated arms, sunken cheekbones, and then settled on the bags under the eyes. A heavy, reproachful sigh leaves Leon's mouth, and his lips tighten into a thin line. The teacher goes through the lockers for a couple of seconds, and then takes out his food container, handing it to you.

"You'll have time to eat before the next lecture. Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be waiting for you at the retake."