❖ classroom 01。

@☾ hestia of sicily The low grunts and tone of dismay made Lance laugh and pause from his work, not that it was in a rush and so he decided to put the mad and pen aside to confront his close friend. "Hes, look... I was starting to get burned out okay? what'd you expect me to do? sTuDy?" he mockingly rebutted to Hestia, whilst holding a pompous grin, arms crossed and back rested on his chair. Lance gazed at those prying eyes and gave each pair a familiar death glare, not really caring whether they'd pick up and understand not to get in other's business. "give me a name and I'll /fix/ it" to which everyone knew that by fix he meant 'beat-the-crap-out-of-them' type of fixing. Lance spare only a split second of glancing at the crumpled paper, it's something everyone and himself are used to by now. The troublemaker snatched the pamphlet in annoyance and threw it at the back of his classmate who's chattering boisterously. "It's not much of a big deal, Hes calm down.."

@☾ lancelot legume Hestia rolled her eyes, seeing right through the act of her long-time friend. "Oh please Lance, who else would spray paint the love story of Belle and her Beast?" She pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated at the carelessness of Lance. "And in front of the damn school." She leaned forward, throwing a few glares at the surrounding students who thought it was wise to try and eavesdrop on their private conversation. "Rumour's going around that their kid isn't happy. Apparently they went straight to the school board and now your face is plastered all over the school on the most wanted list." She lifted up a crumpled piece of paper with Lance's face on it, complete with his crime and punishment. "Again."

@☾ hestia of sicily [badass!hestia lolololol]

Lance was everywhere, it was true, but not like naruto-style shadow clone jutsu type, just that whenever you go you'd know the bad reputation Lance had gain from all of his ridiculous antics. Everyone whether it be a student or staff knew who Lance was, was this his way of getting out from his father's reputation, maybe..

"hmm?" the troublemaker hummed as soon as he hears that familiar deep-mellowy voice talking to him, he barely glanced at his female friend, too concentrated at what he was doing he asked "what do you mean what'd I do this time? whatever it was, it ain't me okay?" a hint of annoyance was obvious as he spoke, already disclaiming whatever mess the latter was talking about, although he was about to finish his sketch, he spared his friend a couple of minutes and turned to face her "plus, how'd you know it was me? not that-- I'm admitting to anything" Lance cleared his throat and went back to face his sketch pad, a sly smirk somehow managed its way on his lips.

@☾ lancelot legume Hestia slammed opened the door to the room, effectively silencing everyone in her wake. The rumouring whispers and judgemental glances shifted from the male to her, before everyone’s attention was forcibly diverged elsewhere. They recognised the look on her face. The brunette had a reputation around the school as one not to mess with, especially given her status as Hades’ daughter. She smirked satisfyingly, pleased both on the effect she had on her peers and interrupting the rumour mill about her close friend.

Speaking of which, she spotted Lancelot at the far corner of the classroom, as usual with his nose buried in his sketch pad wasting yet another piece of parchment on one of his many art projects. Hestia stalked over to him, dragging the chair before him loud before plopping to face him. “What did you do this time?” she sighed, staring at him exasperatedly.

@☾ hestia of sicily A gust of cool air comes from the classroom's entrance and makes Lance’s skin pebble. He rubs at his arm agitatedly to make the bumps go away before re-adjusting himself on the arm of the couch – one of many that made up the Art Center lounge at FTA. He pulls his marker back from his sketch before he can leave an undesired mark on his line art, resting the cap between his teeth as he moves to adjust his pad. Lance stops drawing for a fragment of a second, staring down at the design he’d been working on for the logo of his yet to be established 'super-secret-villain-kids-club'. He’d been working on a concept for three days – his monogram idea ruined the second Octavian sneered that it looked like ‘BJ’ – before choosing to work with an old, childhood nickname his mom had given him.

Eminently focused on his piece, Lance didn't notice the other students clamoring at the back of their classroom, but he could barely make out what some of the guys were chattering about 'he's in trouble again?' , 'what did he do this time?' , 'he's probably gonna be kicked out, serves him right!'