"'Did the naughty'? How did that ever become a phrase?" Michael asked as he limped into the room. After a copious application of Vicodin, some disinfectant, a part of a splint, the aid of a cane, and<i>very</i>liberal amounts of duct tape, he had fixed up his leg, and finally got his coffee. He waved a bit to Amaya and Noah before he sat back in his seat. The rowdiness of the other ((and very fake)) students grew, and Chuck decided to take action, standing up.<br/><br/>"Alright, alright, settle down." He tried, but to no avail as the students didn't cease in their chatter. Chuck sighed before he yelled out, "SHUT UP!" The noise ceased. Chuck looked at the room, standing tall with authority. "I. Am Chuck Finley, your instructor for English & Creative Writing. You will call me Mr. Finley or Sir. Not 'Teach', not 'Teacher', and most definitely not<i>'Chuck'</i>. You each will stand and introduce yourselves as I call on you. You<i>will</i>state your full name, your abilities, your current experience in English and Creative Writing, and a few facts about yourself. Let's get started with," Chuck pointed at Noah. "You, Demon Boy. Introduction, go."