This is not mine, this is not mine, this is not mine, this is a chair….. (Don't ask. Just….don't.)
You'd think I was a terrible fighter to look at me. It's true, I used to be, but since Snoddy joined and taught us all a bit, I can defend myself in a pinch. I mostly use tricks, considering that my brute force never had a chance at getting me anywhere. Still, if my heart was a horse, I would've won a fair bit of money this morning.
It started out as a nice, pleasant soaking of the scabs. I know it's necessary, but I just wish that someone else could do it. I never was one for fighting, and I don't think I ever will be. I'm more of a stand-on-the-sidelines-and-run-for-the-doctor-when-necessary kind of a guy. Anyway, in the middle someone (I've got money on Weasel) had the bright idea to call the bulls. Things went downhill from there.
Suddenly, the guy chasing me ducked as a blurred form swung overhead. I did a double take, but I'd been right the first time- it was Spot! I don't think I've ever been that glad to see someone in my life. Alright, so that's an exaggeration. But still.
Spot. There's something bothering him, I can tell. I'm better friends with him than Jack is, and I know he's been depressed lately. I don't have to be Teacher (see bottom) to know that something's wrong. He's just sitting there, lost in his own thoughts. Not nearly as sure of himself as usual.
I hope he'll tell me.
Note: I had a lovely little Teacher fic, but I've lost it, so I will explain the he is notorious for being unusually observant- he always knows everyone's thoughts and feelings and opinions and helps them sort out problems. Make more sense now?