The Professor, My Mate
He leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee.
When the class finally ended, the room erupted into movement. Chairs scraped, backpacks zipped, the low chatter of students filling the air.
Professor Adams gathered her papers at the front, still casting puzzled glances at Dante.
He stood smoothly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Thank you for the lesson, Professor,” he said.
She blinked. “You’re… welcome? Though I wasn’t aware you were sitting in.”
“School’s orders,” Dante said easily.
“They wanted me to supervise a few classes for the new staff this semester. You’re doing excellent work, by the way.”
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