"It would've been at least considerate for those three jerks to drop enough money for the laundry," he mused. Since his father would have no advice for getting into fights. He thought of what his mother would suggest in a time like this. "Maybe we should've checked their pockets for more money..."

Itsuki was, in the grand scheme of things, an enemy of elegance. He was an antonym of it, and it just so happens that this effect worsened with moisture. His wet bangs were sticking to his forehead, and the rest was a heavy mess. He nodded in complicity to Takuro, noticing the disciplinarians in the distance, and shrinking down a little, as if to make his tall, gangly presence a bit less noticeable.

Meekly, he leaned closer to Takuro, to ask a question in secrecy, sounding more concerned than he should. "Oh-- um, big city schools don't have, like, old school discipline anymore, right?"