Prompt: Evidence
Jack was currently in the middle of a very bad day. He had stayed up late the night before drinking with Boxcars, Droog, and Deuce and hadn't gotten back to his shitty apartment until at least two that morning, and to top it all off, he had the worst hangover he'd had in a while. The last thing he could remember about the night was complaining about Snowman and her disgustingly sumg face every time her band triumphed over his, but goddammit, this is going to be his year! This is going to be the year he finally beats his absolutely hated kismesis. After that everything sort of started running together, and he was pretty sure he drunk dialed someone and said some very rude things, to put it lightly, but he'd be damned if he started worrying about that now. His headache had mellowed, and there was no way in hell he was going to start suffering again because he was worried about what may or may not have been said and to whom.
The school day had finally ended, and he was resting his head on his desk, praying to whatever god that was out there and willing to listen, that none of those sorry excuses for musician came into his sanctioned office with their pathetic problems that quite honestly, he didn't give a shit about. He needed some rest before he would be able to put up with all those little shits for another ungodly three hours.
Unfortunately for him, it was not meant to be.
Just as sleep was about to claim him, the door was thrown open loudly and extremely unceremoniously, shocking him so thoroughly he shot bolt upright in his chair until the blood rushed to his head causing his vision to swim violently at which point he place his head face down on his desk. For one fleeting and absolutely horrifying moment, the thought Eridan was bursting into his office with even more woes than usual about his completely dismal and, truthfully, non-existent romantic life.
He was about to breathe out a sigh of complete and utter relief when he didn't hear the words Mr. Noir, why will no one love me?, or Mr. Noir, am I so unattractive that I'm unlovable?, or any variation thereof, but when the loud, screeching yell of one Karkat Vantas reached his ears, he felt even worse than he did when he believed the intruder to be Eridan.
"I have had it up to here with that lousy, no good, buck-toothed fool everyone is calling a drum major!" Karkat yelled, pissing Jack off even more. He hated the kid, he really did. He was loud, obnoxious, and complained about freaking everything. He would have stabbed the kid two years ago when he joined the band if he hadn't had his weapon carrying rights revoked, thank you Bro Strider. Another teacher had caught him threatening the pain in the ass with his knife, and had turned him in. He didn't even stab the kid, and the whole school freaked. If it hadn't been for Bro laughing it off and claiming it was only a joke, he would have lost his job, and probably been landed in prison. As it was he got off incredibly easy with just a suspension and was now required to submit to a surprise weapons check at least once a month for the rest of his time working at AHS. The parents were furious.
"What the hell do you want now, kid?" Jack asked, lifting his head from his desk to look at. He vaguely noted that Vantas was wearing what appeared to be Egbert's slime ghost thing hoodie.
Before Jack had even finished speaking, Karkat was wheeling in a cart with a laptop and projector perched on top, presumably "borrowed" from the TV Production room with the help of Sollux. He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and Jack knew exactly where this visit was heading.
"I have compiled a list of reasons why exactly John Egbert should be kicked out of band immediately all in one convenient power point." Karkat all but yelled as he set up the projector so that it was shining against the furthest wall in Jack's office which, admittedly, wasn't all that far.
"First of all, I would like to start off by saying-" and Jack completely tuned him out. He did happen to catch one or two ridiculous sounding points which may or may not have been along the lines of "not having moral fortitude" for something or other, something about him smelling like clean apples which, honestly, still doesn't make sense to him, and... surely he was misreading this slide.
Jack eyed Karkat in disbelief. "His eyes are too blue?" he asked dubiously, incredibly irritated by that point.
"They are!" the sousaphone player practically screeched, waving his arms wildly. "Have you seen them? It is disgusting! It's insulting! His eyes are that blue on purpose!"
Jack glared. He was wasting his valuable sleeping time on this idiot? "Get out of my office." He was in no mood to make any kind of threat at the moment.
"Hang on, I still have five more slides, and I have video evidence of his terrible form!" Karkat yelled.
"How... did you film this from the field? You know what, nevermind. I don't want to know."
"Just let me finish-"
"For Christ's sake, just ask the kid out to a fucking movie and stop whining to me," Jack said, silently praying Karkat would just leave him alone.
"But-"
"I don't give a shit! Get out of my damn office!" Jack practically yelled.
That did the trick, and with a huff, Karkat stormed out of Jack's office, lugging with him all the equipment he had taken in, leaving Jack with nothing but wondrous peace and quite.
