**Jamie Drummond**

Three. Two. One. That was how many seconds it took for Jamie to analyse the situation, freak out (mildly) and consider his options. He could deny it, with the cigarette in his hand; bribe the teacher – Physics was a chill subject, right? – like any true Drummond would do; or he could bluff his way out, professionally, and plead ignorance.

As it was, his nerves were so frazzled that he “decided” on a mixture of them all, stifling the remains of his cigarette on the nearby window frame and tossing it out before turning to the teacher with a grin. “Wassup, sir?” His fingers itched and he stuffed them in his pockets before continuing, “Nope, if I recall correctly, there's not any rules on it. D'you want one?”

Jamie surreptitiously took a step back towards the staircase, as nonchalantly as he possibly could. He would have to run if things went south – not from the teacher (he lied to himself), but so he could make football practice in time. His ever-present grin didn't fade from his face the entire time, but it did sour slightly, a lie plastered across his face.