Mista’s sat at an extra desk across from Mr. Bucciarati’s, he is the teacher’s assistant. He’s laid back in his chair, one leg kicked up on his personal desk as the other is put down and touching the floor. He’s got some magazine in his hands, licking of the tips of his fingers before he flips the page.

His head picks up when he notices you walking over to him, eyesbrows slightly raised from underneath his curly hair. “How can I help you?” He asks.