Wes just gave a defeated sigh upon getting patted reassuringly by his partner.Though it didn't really do much, a loser like him appreciated the effort. Instead of face-desking as he was previously, he sat upright, expression flat and disinterested looking. Much like one would have if they were tired and had just finished getting an earful from their mother. Something along those lines. He pushed his beat-up notebooks in front of him and turned to a page that wasn't torn, crumpled, or in a condition that would make the words otherwise unintelligible. He took out a pencil, broke the tip off as usual, and began jotting down notes he'd probably end up losing sometime later that week. Such was the life of a born loser like himself. Nothing at all like his mother's prodigious abilities nor his father's air of coolness. 

Hopefully the day would be done and over with soon enough.