Saburou falls quiet, hearing the voice in his head. This lady was nuts. He glares at her, knowing he was right, and she was wrong. He may not be that good at speaking the language, but he sure as hell knew what he'd learned in school. Did they teach American? No. They taught ENGLISH. But whatever, let her believe in what she wanted to. That wasn't really what bugged him the most. What bugged him was the fact that when he decided to speak out for a shy girl, he got told to let them be.<br/><br/>And that's not the kind of guy he was.<br/><br/>He may be a class clown, but he sure as heck wasn't going to sit back and watch another student suffer. It was something deep within him that compelled him to stick up for and speak out for those who really couldn't do it themselves, for whatever reasons. Being shy, being weak, all those things were a good enough reason for him to stand out for them. And even if that meant he was going to get into trouble, then he'd still do it. He looks over at the girl, who sat there fidgeting in her seat, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. He knew that he'd made her uncomfortable, but it had gotten the message across hadn't it?<br/><br/>And what in blazes did she mean by that last part? Was that a threat? Was this lady really threatening him? It's almost as if he didn't have a say in this...Forced learning, semi animation...He ignores the last part, deciding to just sit there, though the burning in his eyes was not to be missed. He didn't take to threats very kindly, not even if this woman was the headmistress or not. Being Japanese did not mean that he was all goody and polite with everyone. He was to an extent and had respect for those who were of higher status, but once they dropped a threat bomb, there was an immediate lack of higher standing in his eyes.<br/><br/>She glances up at the boy and quickly looks away, cheeks bright red as she listened to the question that Lady Violetta asked of her. Taking a deep breath, she shakes her head and opens her mouth, but then shuts it again, trying to think of what to say. She knew that the boy was just trying to help, but it did not make it any easier on her, now that she was being pointed out.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF4080">"I, uh...I can...talk later...Please."</span>She finally manages to speak, though her voice was barely a whisper. Her accent was clear, French in a way but a little off. Her face, if it was possible, managed to get even darker as she drops her eyes to her lap, staring intently at her hands. She was so nervous, and she felt like she was about to pass out from all this pressure. She hoped that the boy wouldn't get into too much trouble for what he said...