Amy fought back a grin as Ian watched her read his politics essay, a stream of amber sweeping across her concentrated features over anxiously tented fingers.
"Ian," Amy began calmly, resting her chin on a fist as Ian leaned forward eagerly, "a watched kettle never boils, let me read this in peace".
"Sorry, I'll stop watching you, love," he sprung out of his seat, pacing the room with an irritating fervency that made her wish he would go back to sitting still and staring.
"Ian," she offered as a stern warning, parting her lips to ask him to leave.
"It's shit, isn't it?" he declared, throwing his hands in the air "I knew it! I don't have enough sources, the structure is rubbish, and I just ramble on and on about Mill's harm principle-"
"Ian, I haven't even read it yet!"