Ziggy blinked. He felt like he had fallen into an alternate reality. In class Mr. Jones was just so different from the man that was sitting before him now. His leg stopped bouncing at the man's smirk and he flushed slightly. "Nah, it's not a bad thing, though I guess it could be if the kid wants a grade later on."

David smirked slightly again and squinted at his paper once more, finally giving up on it and placing it in front of him on the desk. He leaned back in the chair, staring at Ziggy for a moment through his glasses before speaking. "So," he began, stretching as far back in the chair as he could and folding his hands together on his stomach. "Are you going to tell me why you're not eating? Or are you just going to make me use my imagination?"

Ziggy chewed on his lip. "It's not like I have an eating disorder or anything." He muttered, suddenly solum. "If I eat here it's just gonna go to waste. I'll go home and practically be forced to throw up at some point anyway." It felt good to talk about this. To hell if Mr. Jones reported his father. "See my dad's a raging alcoholic, and when he goes on a particularly nasty bender, which is a daily occurrence, he ends up beating the shit out of me." Ziggy shrugged. "I wouldn't want to waste the food."

David's facial expression changed from serious to morose almost instantly. Alcoholic? Beatings? Why had the school board, or anyone for that matter, heard about this before now? He leaned forward in his chair, his face plastered with a sorrowful look as he leaned across his desk. "You understand that this is not a matter to be taken lightly, Ziggy. You are serious? Because information like this can lead to ruining your father's life and possibly your own if you're not being honest with me." he said, knowing that his words could possibly be taken as harsh, but the kid was known for causing quite a bit of trouble.

Ziggy snorted and stood up from his desk. He sighed and took off his leather jacket, turning away from Mr. Jones as he folded it up and placed it on the desk behind him. "I'm not an idiot." ZIggy said before turning back and walking towards Mr. Jones' desk. He held out both of his arms, showing the man his various burn marks and other scars. "That one." He said, pointing to a particularly nasty cut across one of his arms. "Was from him brandishing a broken bottle at my baby sister and I, I had to defend her."

David moved his glasses up on his nose, sitting up in his chair and turning it to face Ziggy. He took the boys arm in his hand, carefully examining the cut he had indicated before moving on to the rest of the arm. His eyes grazed over numerous cuts, bruises, and circular burns resembling the head of a cigar. He swallowed hard, unconsciously trailing his thumb over one of the injuries and looking up at Ziggy's face. "How long has this been going on, Ziggy? Do you feel like your sister and yourself are in danger?" A lump was beginning to form in David's throat, filled with sorrow and regret for not noticing something like this sooner.

Ziggy swallowed nervously. He had only let his closest friends see the scars on his arms, and they didn't know about the ones that travelled to his back, or cut across his stomach. "He's never tried to kill us." Ziggy said, shrugging again. "He won us in the divorce, and mom's long dead now, so even if our lives were in danger I'm stuck there." He was trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "It's not that bad, really." He was surprised that Mr. Jones was touching his scars so freely, most of them were rather bad.

David shook his head quickly. "No, you're not, Ziggy." he said, finally releasing the boys arm and rolling closer to him in his chair. "You're of age, your father is a menace, and if you can somehow prove that he is unstable and unfit you can get custody of your little sister and get out of there." He stared into the boys eyes, support in his gaze and sadness in his heart for what he had had to suffer through. "If you'd like, I can help you, but only if you'll let me."

Ziggy blinked. He could, he could get himself and Lizzie out of there? "I can?" Ziggy crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Mr. Jones being that close to him. "She's only eleven." Ziggy swallowed. "I can't take care of a kid. I'm barely of age." He chewed on his lip. "Why do you want to help me anyway?"

David sighed and took off his glasses, placing them on the desk and moving his chair back a little, noticing Ziggy's sudden uncomfortable stance. "I'm a teacher. Whether you kids believe it or not, we all care about you. We became teacher's to teacher you, yes, but we also became teacher's because students like you deserve to have a place where they are valued and loved. I want to help you because I'm a decent human being, and I can't stand to see a kid get treated that way. Especially someone as young as your sister. I know that it's a lot to take on when you're so young, but if you truly love your sister you will do whatever it takes to protect her. And you will." He motioned to Ziggy's arm. "You have the scars to prove it."

Ziggy was still somewhat in shock. No one had offered to help before. "i won't let Dick touch her." Ziggy murmured. "I don't trust that alcoholic pervert." Ziggy kicked the ground with his boot. "Besides Mr. Jones I thought you became a teacher to torment your students and assign papers that you, yourself, cannot read." Ziggy smirked and ran his hand through his shock of orange hair.

David tried to remain serious, but a momentary laugh burst out of his mouth. "No, that is not what I strive to do." he said, standing up and walking towards Ziggy. "Do you want my help, or not?" he placed his hand on Ziggy's shoulder, bending his head down so he could properly see the boy's face. "I'll not only help with the case, but when you win I can also help arrange somewhere for you and Lizzie to live."

Ziggy swallowed at Mr. Jones' proximity. "You're sure? Those papers you handed back last week suggested otherwise." Ziggy had made a C, a grade that he loathed to get in English but would have accepted in any other class. "I. I would like your help I suppose. Yeah."

David smirked when Ziggy spoke. "Back on subject now, we can discuss my teaching methods another time." he watched Ziggy closely before the boy spoke again and smirked again, grasping firmly at the boy's shoulder. "I will do everything in my power to help you and your sister feel safe again."

ZIggy flushed and nodded. "Yeah. Uhm. Thanks, Mr. Jones." Ziggy chewed on his lip and looked over to his desk, where his leather jacket was still resting. He wanted nothing more but to put it back on, and resume the tough guy exterior that he always had, but then another, very very small part of him wanted to hug his professor.