Silas looked up from his rapid typing without ceasing, as a loud alarm sounded from his tablet halfway across his office. Groaning, but not ceasing his typing, he pushed his chair back as far as his arms would allowing, just stretching his foot to where the offending tablet was tilted precariously on the edge of his armchair. Flipping it over, but back onto the chair, he saw its blaring reminder “Dance Elective: 10 Minutes”. His eyes widening, he finished typing and grabbed his tablet, shutting off that insistent noise (he’d had to disable the automated PA he’d designed because recently he’d found himself yelling “ONE MINUTE” at it whilst he was doing things, much to its efficient disgruntlement). Grabbing some snacks and stuffing them into his shoulder bag he headed off to the last of the dance classes. Although he was enthusiastic about the matter at hand, he’d had to trade his earlier supervising teacher shift, having been called off campus to help deal with some ridiculous security breach at HQ that hadn’t even needed his expertise. Taking this last class meant he’d be getting the dregs of all the students, those who had thus avoided the class but needed to complete it a la compulsivity. Breezing into the bustling classroom he turned to face them “Good morning children! Or evening, depending on which time zones you’ve been having to cooperate with recently… Why don’t you look more alive?”
Skye pushed off the wall she’d been leaning on in disinterest, skimming through the crowd one last time before turning to the man. “Look at who decided to grace us with their presence and make me feel less like a pedophile. The bossman himself,” she remarked, raising her voice so her next words would be universally heard. “They’re just mad I’m here to tell them to keep their hands above their partner’s waist, which is apparently a hard concept to grasp. Pun intended.”
