The halls of the school were quiet and empty, all the students at lunch for the day. David crept his way back into the school after sneaking to the back for a quick smoke. After getting inside undetected, David leisurely made his way back to his classroom to get some grading done on the pile of term papers on his desk. He took his time, knowing full well that the majority of the papers were going to be dreadful and not looking forward to reading them over.

Finally arriving at the door marked 207, David opened the door and entered the drab, colorless room scattered with random photographs of famous authors on the main wall. Sighing deeply once he was in the room, he stopped, allowing the door the slide closed behind him before making his way to his desk.

Ziggy hadn't shown up at lunch, again. He didn't quite see the point in eating if he was going to be made so sick from his father's endless alcoholic punishments that he ended throwing it up anyway he didn't quite see the point. He spent most of his lunch period standing near his El Dorado, smoking at least two cigarettes. He tried to take his time, but every day during lunch he got so anxious that he could not think straight, let alone take his time smoking a cigarette.

After shakily putting out his second ciggy of his lunch period he made his way back into the school, scowling at each and every flier that caught his eye. He wasn't the most...involved student. If he wasn't at school he was driving about town, doing anything and everything to keep away from his father's wrath. Today Ziggy decided to sit outside his next class while he waited for everyone else in the school to finish up at lunch. He sighed and sat against the lockers outside room 207, and pulled an old iPod and an oversized pair of headphones out of his backpack before he placed the headphones over his ears and started trying to find something to listen to.

David stared down at the sloppy, hand written paper in his hand, his small framed glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he tried to make out the so called words this particular student hand scribbled onto the page. "Why don't any of them type?" he mumbled to himself, finishing with that page and tossing it to the side as he moved on to the next one.

Suddenly broken away from his work by a noise out in the hall, David glanced over at the door, staring at it and waiting to see if someone would walk in and save him from the pile of poorly written essays. After no one entered, he decided that it was only responsible of him to go and find out what the noise was. Not at all an excuse to get out of reading these term papers. He stood swiftly, his chair squeaking slightly as it was pushed away from him as he walking to the door.

Ziggy had his eyes closed and was bobbing his head along to the music, his booted foot tapping against the floor under him. Music was one of his few friends really, and he could always count on it to cheer him up. He sighed as the song ended and something completely awful that his sister must have placed on his iPod came up. Ziggy sighed and scrolled through his expansive collection again before he resumed head bobbing and foot tapping.

If anyone had tried to get his attention at that moment they would have failed, as he was too engrossed in the music, and his headphones were turned up just a bit too loud.

David opened the door and looked out into the hallway, seeing nothing from his current vantage point but clearly hearing a tapping of some sort and the faint sound of music. He stepped out into the hall a little more and looked down, his eyes finding a very orange head bobbing back and forth. He cocked his head to the side and expressed confusion. "Ziggy?" he asked, waiting a few seconds before realizing that the student must not have heard him speak.

He walked in front of the boy, directly in front of him so that he could see his shoes and staring down at him. "Ziggy." He stared down at him, his glasses still propped at the end of his nose.

Ziggy had not heard his english professor the first time, he was too engrossed in listening to The Cure to hear much of anything, however he was startled out of his musical reverie when he saw a pair of shoes in front of him. Ziggy sighed and paused his music before pulling his headphones off of his ears. He looked up at Mr. Jones and sighed again.

"Yeah?" He did his best to not cop an attitude. "What is it?"

David cocked his eyebrows and swayed his arms a bit, as if to indicate a question. "What are you doing?" he asked, realizing at once that he should elaborate before he got a sarcastic remark that would only make him frustrated. His nose caught the scent of tobacco and nicotine, coming not from himself but the student at his feet. "You reek. Aren't you supposed to be at lunch?"

Ziggy scowled. Of course, the hard ass would have found something to complain about. "I was listening to my music until you came out here, and yeah I'm supposed to be, but I'm not going to eat anyway, so I don't really see much of a point." Ziggy decided not to comment on the fact that he apparently reeked. He was used to it by now, and besides, if he confessed to smoking on school grounds he was sure to get a detention, which would only make his father even more furious.

David sighed and took off his glasses, holding them in his hand while he pinched at the bridge of of nose. "Ziggy, you know very well that I can not allow you to just simply not eat. It's part of my job to see to your well-being and part of that is eating properly." He looked down at the boy and sighed again, placing his glasses back on his face and motioning towards his classroom as he stepped backwards. "Come on." he said, almost kindly. "Get in there before another teacher sees you and actually tries to make you go to the cafeteria. If you're hungry I might have something you can snack on."

Ziggy blinked up at him. This was surprising. Apparently the hard ass himself forgot to take his hard ass pills. Ziggy shrugged and stood, grabbing his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Really, I'm not going to eat." He half hoped that the man started to pry into his life. While Ziggy was an adult now he could technically escape his father's house, but he would never leave his sister alone with that man. Ziggy looked up at Mr. Jones and chewed on his lip. "Thank you, for at least not forcing me."

David nodded and tried to hurry him into the classroom, knowing that if another teacher saw Ziggy where he wasn't supposed to be that he would be forced into the lunch room where all he would do is sit. He placed his hand on Ziggy's shoulder and began ushering him through the door of his classroom. "I've seen what happens when people try to force you to do things, and it's not that pretty. I rather like my face the way it is." He cracked a smirk and walked to hold the door open for the boy.

Ziggy chuckled. So news of that fight from a week ago had gotten around the school. "Yeah well, it was my seat, I wasn't going to move, not even if some hulking football player asked me to." Zig sighed as he moved into the english classroom and moved immediately to sit at the desk he always sat at. He sat down and then leaned his chair back on two legs, his arms behind his head.

David allowed the door to close and walked back towards his desk. He shuffled a few things around and then looked back over at Ziggy. "I don't require an answer, but I sincerely hope that you didn't smoke in the school again." He looked back down at his desk and continued shuffling around the papers, finally sitting down and fixing his glasses. He took up the paper he had been previously reading and began to squint at it, still not sure if what he was looking at were words or if the student had just taken a pen and scribbled across the paper.

Ziggy chuckled. "Nah, not in the school, I learned my lesson from that one." He watched Mr. Jones sit down and Ziggy cocked a brow as he watched him for a few minutes "That bad hmmm?" He placed all four legs of his chair down on the floor and sighed to himself. His leg started bouncing. After lunch there was just English, and then Gym, which he always skipped, and then he would have to go home, back to that hell hole.

David looked up quickly. "Hmm?" he said, not realizing what Ziggy was talking about until a moment later. "Oh, um. It's just. I can't seem to read this kids hand writing. I'm not even sure whose paper it is." He chuckled lightly, probably the only sign of an actual personality he had even shown to a student. But, for some reason, he had a strong feeling that Ziggy was a special type of student, one that needed a friendly teacher rather than a stern one. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked, smirking slightly.