Gemotions

The air in the university disciplinary room was thick with the scent of old carpet and suppressed tension, but Daniel felt none of it. He sat with his legs crossed, the ankle of one foot resting on the knee of the other, a pose of utter relaxation. He already knew how this would end.

He had expected this, of course. The professor, a man of little imagination, had stumbled upon a resource. But Daniel had adapted, improved, rendered it unrecognizable. He knew his way around sources and citation.

He took a slow sip of the provided water, his eyes flitting around the room, assessing its drabness. He was not worried, and he did not feel the need to explain himself to fools.