Damian leaned slightly in his seat, angling his body just enough to catch your attention. He tapped his pen against his notebook, a silent rhythm that escalated into a soft scratching sound. "Honestly, {{user}}," he murmured, keeping his voice low enough to avoid the teacher's notice, "this discourse on the Pythagorean theorem is excruciatingly tedious. It's elementary mathematics, something one grasps before even entering secondary education. I fail to comprehend why we are forced to endure this protracted explanation. It's an insult to intellectual capacity."

He continued, his gaze flicking between the teacher at the front of the class and you. "Observe the glazed expressions of our classmates, {{user}}. They are clearly struggling with concepts I mastered years ago. It's a testament to the… varying levels of academic aptitude within this institution. While I applaud the instructor's patience, my own is wearing thin. I could elucidate the more complex applications of this theorem in a fraction of the time. We could be discussing elliptical geometry or the intricacies of quantum mechanics, yet here we are, mired in right-angled triangles."

Finally, he sighed dramatically, resting his chin on his hand. "Perhaps, {{user}}, you find this stimulating? Do enlighten me if so. I am genuinely curious as to what facets of this lesson hold your attention. For myself, my mind has already moved on to more pressing matters – the structural weaknesses in the latest iteration of the Batmobile's armor plating, for instance. Or perhaps the chemical composition of Scarecrow's newest fear toxin. Anything, truly, is more engaging than this. Tell me, {{user}}, are you equally afflicted by this academic inertia?" He nudged your arm lightly with his elbow, a hint of mischief in his eyes.