As everyone leaves the classroom, Professor Sins shoots you a sympathetic look before leaving you alone with Brittney to clean the classroom. The second the door shuts, Brittney saunters over to the desk in front of you and sits down, crossing her legs. "Well don't just stand there loser! Go get the broom and get cleaning." She orders before pulling out her phone. "What? Did you really think that I would help... you?" She laughs to herself before a sinister smirk starts to form on her face.

Brittney looks at you annoyed and huffs "I'm not your slave... pervert." She glares at her phone for a moment before shaking her head, sighing heavily in exasperation. Suddenly, she leans forward on the desk and speaks more softly; almost seductively: "Look... you seem like a nice guy. And I really don't want to make things harder for you." She pauses for effect before continuing: "I could... help you... if you know what I mean..." Her voice trails off, her eyebrows raised in expectation.

"Oh really?" She says, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes skeptically. "And what makes you think that I'd want to help you?" Her tone is mockingly innocent as she runs a manicured fingernail across the desktop. You can see her looking at you up and down, taking in your physical stature. There's a brief pause before she adds: "And besides, don't you have a girlfriend or something? I've heard you were going out with that Amy chick..."

She raises an eyebrow at your comment about Amy, not looking completely convinced but deciding to humor you. "Fine then," she huffs, rising from the desk and walking over to where the broom and dustpan are stored. "But don't expect me to do everything... pervert." With that, she hands you the broom and bends down to grab the dustpan, flashing some skin in the process. It seems that for now, she'll play along with your little game.

"Very well then," she snorts as she begins sweeping the floor with exaggerated strokes. "Why don't you start by cleaning those tables over there? Make sure to get everything, pervert." As she speaks, she occasionally glances at you out of the corner of her eye, watching your every move with amusement... or perhaps suspicion.

"Hurry up then," she mutters under her breath as you start working on the tables. "I haven't got all day..." She resumes sweeping, moving back and forth in a way that makes it obvious she knows how to clean effectively. Yet at the same time, she maintains her casual air of superiority over you.

"So," she begins conversationally as you work side by side, "do you really think Amy's worth it?" Her words are laced with sarcasm as she pauses between sweeps to look for your reaction.

"I'm just saying," she says with a shrug, "she seems pretty stuck-up. I mean, haven't you noticed how she always acts like she's better than everyone else?" She gives another exaggerated sweep before tilting her head to the side, staring at you expectantly. "Or am I just being too judgmental?"

There's a mischievous glint in her eye as she waits for your response.

She raises an eyebrow at your comment, looking unimpressed. "Oh really? And how do you figure that she'd let you 'not bother' with her attitude?" There's a devious glint in her eye as she continues, her voice taking on a slightly taunting quality: "I mean... Amy seems like the kind of girl who would expect more than just silence from her boyfriend. Maybe even a bit of obedience..."

She pauses for effect, watching your reaction carefully before adding with a knowing smirk: "...or punishment."

"Huh," is all Brittney says, her expression unreadable as she finishes sweeping a particularly dirty area of the floor. "Well, you're one to talk about being with someone 'beneath' you. Amy may be dumb and ugly, but at least she knows how to keep a man interested..." Her voice trails off suggestively, her gaze drifting back to you as she bites her lower lip thoughtfully.

She snorts derisively at your attempt to categorize people into 'smart' and 'stupid'. "Oh please," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, "you can't possibly believe that nonsense." She glances at you again, searching for any sign of embarrassment or uncertainty on your face. Instead, she sees only calm determination, which only serves to fuel her growing annoyance.

"Well," she says eventually, standing up straight and adjusting her shirt, "I suppose we've cleaned enough." She looks pointedly at the door before adding: "Unless there's something else you wanted to do first?"

"Hah! Of course not," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "It's all just chance, right? Luck of the draw." She waves a hand dismissively as if to brush aside your comment completely. "Anyway, let's go find Professor Sins and get this over with." With that, she turns on her heel and heads for the door, pretending not to notice the satisfied grin spreading across your face.

Hmph! Fine, whatever you say, pervert," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Let's just get this over with." She glances back at you expectantly, as if daring you to contradict her.

"Oh," she says, the surprise evident in her voice. "Well, that's good to know." She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head to the side, studying you carefully. "In that case... I guess we can find something else to do then." There's an almost challenging glint in her eye as she speaks, as if daring you to come up with a suitable suggestion.

"Well, aren't we the confident one?" she says with a sly smile. "I guess there's no point in arguing about it then. You win this round." There's an odd note of resignation in her voice as she steps aside to allow you to pass through the door first. As you exit the classroom, she falls into step beside you, careful not to touch or brush against your arm. "So, where were we supposed to go again?"

She snorts derisively, raising an eyebrow at your boldness. "And why would I do that? You're not the boss of me, remember?" She glances away for a moment, her cheeks reddening slightly. "I mean... we could just go to the cafeteria or something, if you wanted." Her voice trails off hopefully, and she forces herself to meet your gaze again.

"Or I could just head home by myself, I guess..." The last part is added almost as an afterthought, her tone making it sound like it would be a great disappointment if that were to happen.

Her eyes widen in surprise and she suddenly feels self-conscious about her offer. "I-I don't know if that's such a good idea..." She mumbles, taking a step back to put some distance between the two of you. "We barely know each other..." The last part sounds more like an accusation than a simple statement of fact.

She hesitates for a moment before gathering her courage and pushing forward: "Well, if you're sure... I guess we could go get something to eat." She says with forced casualness, already feeling somewhat resentful that she let herself be pressured into this situation.

Stiffening her spine and determined not to be outdone by you, Brittney nods curtly. "Right," she says, trying to sound confident despite the tremor in her voice. "Let's go eat then." Without further ado, she turns on her heel and heads purposefully towards the cafeteria. Over her shoulder, she tosses out one last barb: "You're buying, by the way."

She stops in her tracks, spinning back to face you with an indignant expression. "Excuse me? I'm not your servant, pervert! You said yourself we're equals, so why should I pay for you?" Her cheeks flush red with anger as she crosses her arms over her chest. There's a moment of awkward silence before she continues, trying to regain some semblance of composure: "I mean... if it bothers you that much, I could just split the check with you or something."

There's an obvious hint of defeat in her voice as she makes this offer, but she's determined not to back down completely.

She huffs irritatedly but doesn't argue further as she heads towards the cafeteria with you, her steps just a touch faster than yours to avoid having any physical contact with you whatsoever. As you approach the counter, she glances over at you before speaking up: "I'll have the usual, thanks." She says curtly before glancing away, refusing to make eye contact with you as she waits for her order. The entire time, she clutches her purse tightly against her side, ever vigilant against any attempt at physical closeness between the two of you.

"Alright," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand as you finish ordering your own food. "Don't expect me to pay for it just because I let you buy me something." Her voice is dripping with sarcasm and spite, but she can't hide the hint of satisfaction that comes across her face when she sees that you noticed. She turns away from you slightly as she says this, only looking at you out of the corner of her eye as if to avoid any potential argument or confrontation.

She huffs derisively at your words, shaking her head as if they don't merit a real response. "I wasn't doing it for you, pervert," she says coolly. "I was just trying to be nice. And anyway, what choice did I really have? It's not like I could leave you there alone to finish cleaning up by yourself." Her tone carries an unspoken challenge in the last part of her sentence, daring you to contradict her.

"Now, why don't we find a place to sit and eat our food?" she suggests, turning away from you as if the entire conversation was of no consequence.

Well, this should be interesting... Sitting across from you at the cafeteria table makes her acutely aware of your presence in a way she hadn't been when walking beside you earlier. Her lips curve into a small smirk as she takes a sip of her drink, eyes never leaving yours for long. Perhaps this might be more entertaining than she'd initially thought...

"Ha!" She lets out a loud and genuine laugh at your comment. "I'll have you know I can handle it just fine." She straightens her posture, pushing her shoulders back to accentuate the fact that she really means what she's saying. "In fact," she continues with an evil glint in her eye, "I rather enjoy having such a 'handful'."

With that said, she takes another bite of her food and chews thoughtfully, still watching you carefully from beneath her lashes.

The smile drops from her face as you mention the rucksack incident. It's clear that she hadn't expected you to bring that up. For a moment, she looks a bit uncomfortable and angry at herself for not having a better comeback ready. Then, her expression hardens once more and she speaks through gritted teeth: "Well, if it bothers you so much then maybe you should go find someone else to pick on."

She takes another bite of her food, looking away from you as if the conversation no longer interests her.

Well then," she drawls condescendingly, "I suppose I'll just have to find some other poor soul to feel sorry for." She pauses for dramatic effect before adding with a smirk, "Or maybe I should start learning how to accept help from others once in a while." Her voice carries an undertone of mocking sarcasm that makes it clear she thinks you're being ridiculous.

Taking another bite of her food, she glances at you out of the corner of her eye before returning her attention to her plate. There's a subtle air of satisfaction about her now, as if she's gotten the upper hand in this verbal sparring match.

Her expression sours slightly at your question. "I didn't really have anywhere else to be," she says through gritted teeth. "And I figured it would be more interesting to hang out with you for a little while longer, since we seemed to be getting along so well." There's an undercurrent of anger and resentment in her voice now, making it clear that this conversation has taken a turn for the worse.

With one last defiant glance in your direction, she turns back to her food and begins picking at it with renewed vigor, determined not to give you the satisfaction of knowing you've gotten under her skin.

She raises an eyebrow at you over the top of her soda can before taking another sip. "Well," she says, sounding a bit annoyed, "it could be worse, I suppose." She shrugs and looks away for a moment, studying the other students in the cafeteria as if they're all part of some fascinating social experiment. "I mean," she continues after another moment, "you haven't been too terrible to talk to... yet." There's a hint of challenge in her voice as she glances back at you from beneath her lashes.

She snorts derisively at this confession. "Yeah, I can imagine." Her tone is laced with sarcasm as she takes another bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "So why don't you tell me," she says casually, looking at you over the top of her drink, "what do you find so interesting about talking to someone like me?" There's a hint of amusement in her voice now, as if she's enjoying the verbal sparring match almost as much as the argument they had earlier.

She stares at you blankly for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. "Oh really?" she says with a raised eyebrow, waving her hand dismissively as if to wave away your comment. "Well, I suppose everyone has their own opinion." There's an edge to her voice that suggests she finds your comments somewhat insulting.

She takes another sip of her drink before asking: "So, what do you usually do in your spare time? Hang out with other interesting people like me, or do you prefer the company of, I don't know... science equipment?" The taunting tone is back in her voice now.

Hmph! Programming and weightlifting, eh? Not exactly the most scintillating topics of conversation." She pauses for a moment, looking you over as if she's trying to decide whether or not she should say anything else on the subject. Finally, she shrugs and takes another bite of her food, seemingly content to let the conversation fade away for now. As she chews thoughtfully, her gaze drifts around the cafeteria, occasionally landing on other students or groups of people before returning to you with an annoyed huff.

It's clear that despite her efforts to maintain a certain level of indifference towards you, there's something about your personality - or perhaps just your persistence - that continues to irritate her. But for now, she seems content to let the tension between them simmer rather than boil over into another argument.

"Oh, you know," she says with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "The usual. Study, of course. I've got a lot of reading to do for Professor Sins' class, and we have a big project coming up next month." She glances away for a moment, frowning slightly as if thinking about how much work she has ahead of her.

"And then there are my extracurriculars," she continues with a hint of pride in her voice. "I'm on the school debate team, and we've been doing really well lately." She pauses for effect before looking back at you expectantly, as if daring you to comment.

"Well," she says with an exasperated sigh, "it's a bit more competitive than that." She rolls her eyes as if you should already know what she means by that. "There are other schools we compete against, and we train really hard to be the best."

She takes another bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully before continuing in a slightly less defensive tone: "I mean, it's not just about talking, you know. There are certain rules and strategies involved." She shrugs, not quite able to hide the satisfaction she gets from being part of such a team.

"Well," she says with a hint of indignation in her voice, "I am using them. You're just too dense to realize it." She narrows her eyes at you for emphasis before continuing more calmly, "But seriously, I don't really see the point in debating with someone like you. You don't seem very interested in learning or listening to other people's opinions."

Taking another bite of her food, she glances around the cafeteria again, looking for anyone else who might be willing to engage her in a more stimulating conversation. It's clear that she finds your company less than satisfying, but for now, you'll have to do.

Her eyes widen in surprise at your words, and she lets out a quiet laugh. "I can see why you two got along so well," she says with an amused grin, nodding towards one of the other tables where several boys are engrossed in their own conversation. "You're just as stubborn as he is."

She shakes her head, unable to hide the smile on her face. "I don't know what it is about you people," she says, looking back at you over her soda can. "But you sure do know how to make an argument interesting." There's a hint of admiration in her tone now, and for a moment, it almost sounds like she regrets their earlier arguments.

You can almost feel the tension rising in the air as she speaks these words. "I agree," she says, her voice sharp and defensive. "It's high time people started taking responsibility for their actions instead of hiding behind empty platitudes." She glances away for a moment, frowning thoughtfully before looking back at you again with renewed intensity.

"But violence isn't the only answer," she continues, her voice growing softer and more measured. "There are other ways to affect change - productive ways that don't involve hurting people or causing harm." There's a world of experience in her voice, as if she's seen and learned things you can only begin to imagine.

For a moment, the tension between the two of you seems to dissipate, replaced by a sense of... understanding? Or maybe it's just curiosity. Whatever the case may be, it's clear that

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your words, and she opens her mouth to respond... but nothing comes out. She seems momentarily taken aback by the coldness of your logic. After a long pause, she finally manages to say, "I can't even begin to imagine what kind of life must have led you to believe that violence is always the answer."

Her tone carries more sadness than anger now, and it's clear that she truly doesn't understand your worldview. With another long sigh, she finishes her soda and sets the can down on the table with a loud clang, signaling that their conversation has come to an end for now.

Her eyes widen with horror as she listens to your threats, and her hands instinctively fly up to cover her mouth in shock. "You wouldn't really do that," she whispers, the disbelief clear in her voice. "You can't be serious." She shakes her head, clearly struggling to process what you've just said.

"Look," she continues, trying to find the words to make you understand. "Violence isn't the answer, no matter how much you might want it to be. It only leads to more pain and suffering... for everyone involved." She pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing in a firmer tone: "And I refuse to let you turn me into someone who thinks that way too."

Her gaze meets yours steadily, challenging you to argue against her words. But she doesn't expect you to respond; she already knows there is no changing

Her jaw tightens at your reply as she shakes her head slowly from side to side. "No," she says firmly, emphasizing each syllable. "I refuse to believe that's true." She takes a deep breath before continuing, "There has to be another way - a better way to make things right, to bring about change without hurting people or destroying lives."

Her voice carries an unshakeable determination now; she truly believes in her words. And for the first time since you've met her, there's a spark of hope in her eyes as well. It's clear that she will not be swayed from her convictions easily - but perhaps there's still room for discussion...

Her eyes widen with disbelief at your words, and she shakes her head slowly back and forth. "You really don't understand, do you?" She says, her voice filled with sadness and pity. "I know what I believe in, and I'm not going to let anyone make me change that."

She stands up abruptly, gathering her things into her bag as she glances around the cafeteria for an escape route. "Look," she says, turning back to face you with a fierce determination in her eyes, "if you're really so set on hurting me just to prove your point... then go ahead. But don't think for one second that it will change how I feel about what's right and wrong."

With those final words, she shoulders her bag and walks quickly away from the table, leaving you sitting there alone with your thoughts.

She freezes in mid-step, almost as if she hadn't heard you correctly. Then, with a sigh of frustration, she turns back around to face you again. "What did you say?" There's no anger or defiance in her tone now; only confusion and weariness.

She closes the distance between you, her expression firm and unyielding. "I didn't run away," she says with conviction, holding your gaze steady. "I just needed some time to think about what you were saying." She takes a deep breath before continuing, her voice quieter but no less insistent. "And the answer is still the same. I will not be bullied into changing my beliefs by threats of violence."

There's a moment of tense silence as she searches your face for some sign that you understand, or at least respect, her position. But when it becomes clear that you aren't going to back down, she sighs heavily and shakes her head. "I guess we're at an impasse then," she says with a sad smile. "But I hope... someday you'll see things my way."

With one last look in your direction, she turns

"Perhaps," she admits with a small smile. "But I prefer to focus on what I can control - and my choices, my beliefs... those are mine alone." There's a finality in her voice that suggests the conversation is at its end. With one last look around the cafeteria, she nods curtly in your direction before turning away and disappearing back into the crowd of students.

She pauses, one hand resting lightly on the back of her chair as she turns to look at you. "I'm glad to hear that," she says sincerely. "Violence isn't the answer to every problem... but I appreciate your understanding." A faint smile plays across her lips before she continues, "Maybe someday we can find common ground on other issues."

She inclines her head slightly in acknowledgment before taking her seat once more. "You're welcome," she says politely, glancing back at you over the top of her cup as she takes a sip of her drink. There's an air of thoughtfulness about her now, as if she's considering the possibilities of further discussions between the two of you in the future. "Maybe we could meet again sometime," she suggests carefully, "to talk about other things."

Her gaze meets yours directly this time, searching for any signs that might indicate whether or not such a prospect would be welcomed.

She raises an eyebrow slightly at your words, not quite sure how to interpret them. "I beg your pardon?" she says with a hint of confusion in her voice. "Club?" Her expression clears as she realizes what you must be referring to; however, the smile that follows is somewhat wry and amused.

"Ah, well," she drawls slowly, taking another sip of her drink. "I suppose if you really want to... we could give it a try." Her tone suggests that she's not entirely convinced this would be a wise course of action, but she seems willing to entertain the possibility nonetheless.

She smiles slightly at your bravado before returning her attention to her drink. "Well," she says with a shrug, "maybe sometime. But for now, I think I'd rather focus on our studies." Her tone is light and playful, almost as if they were just engaging in friendly banter rather than discussing deeply held beliefs.

There's an awkward pause as you both finish your drinks and decide whether or not to continue the conversation further. Finally, she decides to break the silence. "So," she says casually, looking around the room once more, "what are you up to this weekend?"

"Oh," she says, seeming slightly surprised. "Well, if you change your mind about anything, let me know. I'm always up for a good conversation." She pauses, considering her words carefully before adding with a hint of playfulness in her tone: "Or maybe even some friendly competition... if that's what you're into."

There it is again - the challenge in her eyes, daring you to rise to the occasion. But whether she truly wants you to accept or is merely testing your resolve remains unclear. The air between you crackles with tension as you both consider your next move in this delicate dance of words and unspoken intentions.

Her cheeks flush slightly as she looks away, pretending to busy herself with straightening her stack of books on the table. "Oh, no," she says quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "I didn't mean that... I just thought maybe..." She trails off, clearly at a loss for words now. It's clear that while she may be interested in continuing this conversation further, she isn't sure how to proceed without making things awkward or uncomfortable.

Finally, she musters up the courage to meet your gaze once more. "Look," she says with determination in her voice, "I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us. If you want to talk... really talk... about anything, I'm always here." There's a hint of vulnerability beneath the bravado now, as if she too is unsure of where this newfound attraction might lead

Her cheeks flush deeper at your words and she glances away once more, fidgeting with her fingers nervously. "I-I don't know," she stammers, clearly thrown off by your reaction to her offer. After a moment's pause, she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze steadily. "Look, I just want us to be honest with each other, okay? There's no need to feel uncomfortable about... well, anything."

There's an almost pleading quality to her voice now as she waits for you to respond. Part of her wants nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were before - casual and easygoing between the two of you - but another part can't help but wonder where this newfound connection might lead them. The tension in the air seems almost palpable now, thick with unspoken words and unexplored possibilities.

Her cheeks flush even deeper at your words, and she ducks her head in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up her neck. "Well... you're not exactly bad looking yourself," she admits with a small smile, before glancing back up at you through her lashes. There's an undeniable spark of attraction in her eyes now as they study your features. "I mean, you could stand to lose some of that arrogance sometimes, but..." She pauses, tilting her head slightly to the side as she considers her words.

"But I suppose even bad boys have their charms," she finishes with a small laugh, surprising herself as much as you with the admission. There's an unmistakable lightness in her tone now, as if the weight of all that tension has finally begun to lift.

She laughs, shaking her head at your feigned innocence. "Well, I'll give you that," she says, lowering her voice slightly as she leans closer across the table. There's an unspoken invitation in those words and the intimate gesture; it's clear that whatever happens next, it won't be just another casual conversation between classmates.

For a moment, neither of you says anything else, content to simply enjoy the comfortable silence that has settled between them. But as their eyes meet once more, there's an unspoken question lingering in the air: where do they go from here? The possibilities seem endless and filled with potential for excitement... and maybe even something more.

She pauses, considering your question as she studies your features intently. There's a hint of mischief in her eyes now and the barest suggestion of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Well," she says slowly, drawing out the word teasingly, "you do have quite a way with words." She leans back in her chair, regarding you over the top of her cup as if weighing your compliment carefully before finally nodding. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

The air between you seems to crackle with electricity now, heightened by the flirtatious banter and the undeniable attraction that hangs like a cloud overhead. It's clear that whatever happens next, it won't be long before one of you makes a move - but until then, they'll simply enjoy the anticipation of what might come.