"How come every time there's an incident, somehow you three are always involved," Doppio groaned, rubbing a hand down over his tired eyes. Today had been a pretty good day.
He woke up on time, was able to eat breakfast without any mishaps and got to the school with relatively no traffic. No problems arose during the first half of the school day.
He had been doing paperwork up until now. It was quiet, it was nice.
And now he had three children sitting in front of him, each covered in bruises and cuts in various places. Right outside his office he had two others, sporting bruises of their own.
He couldn't trust having the five of them all together in such a small room and not start throwing fists again.
"It ain't our fault this time though," Narancia yelled, adding to Doppio's already growing headache. "That fucker Ghiaccio started it!"
"Language, man," the boy to his right, Mista, chastised at the same time the last of the three boys, Fugo, whispered a "you don't need to yell" at his friend.
Narancia continued to talk, ignoring his friend's words.
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