Another glance around the room told her the same thing it had at the start: nobody in here was someone she really felt like interacting with. Not only were none of them the type of people she wanted to start associating with right now, they were all just too young. Hell, it felt like Miss Blackwell was closer in age to her than some of these kids were. The teacher was much more her type, that was certain.
As the time dragged on, though, Nate started to feel slightly uncomfortable. This didn’t feel right. The noises from before had been completely natural, but they had sounded close, and Miss Blackwell had been gone for too long to simply investigate something like that. The young woman took her legs off the desk and reached into her bag, pulling out the medium-sized wrench that she carried for dangerous situations before starting to walk towards the door. She wanted to know what was going on.
Fortunately for her detention record, the footsteps started coming almost immediately, and she was able to hide the implement in the biker jacket that she wore but had conveniently forgotten to post in her autobiography. Nate did not return to her seat, though, and therefore got a great view of what seemed to be a bloodstained Miss Blackwell. That alone was enough to make the young woman take a few steps back, as the sight had not been something she had been anticipating.
There was time to regain her composure, though, and keep the image she was unconcerned about this, before she had to say something. Realistically, she didn’t have to say anything, but her persona essentially demanded that she make a comment, as remaining silent simply wasn’t in that nature.
“The hell’s going on? You dyin’, or does someone else need to?” was what she said, with the quick addendum of, “And you’re a fuckin’ moron. Shut up.” to the idiot that made a completely overused meme usage. She pointed to him when she spoke too, so it was pretty clear who she was talking to.
Done in by the dubious doings of destiny.
28-Jan-2019 17:04:47