Hello. Is it me you're looking for?
Who: Uchiha Sasuke and Uchiha Itachi
What: Apology demands?
Where: Itachi's office.
When: Oh, let's say monday? (May change/get more specific as we...figure out what we're doing.)



Distraction. Wonderful, blissful distraction from the horrific note pounding in the piano room came in the form of ungraded papers. It was a horror of itself but one Itachi would choose over poor playing any day. Badly written papers were a lot less noisy than badly played piano.

So many papers to grade. Uchiha Itachi had never imagined in all his life that he would be so bogged down, this early in the semester, with papers that begged so loudly for grades. And in such sloppy hand writing...

It made his eyes hurt.

Next round of assignments, he would be sure to remember to require the papers to be typed and not...scribbled on notebook paper like school children. And all these frayed spiral bound edges? Grotesque in a sense he had never anticipated. There were little flakes of paper edges everywhere-over his desk, under his feet, and, horror of horrors, on his shirt. It was like some sick explosion of notebooks. He felt as though he had rolled in these stacks of papers.

He shuddered at the thought.

Itachi looked sorrowfully at his desk gargoyle and the standard issue name plate that sat right next to it-both ominous and bold and dark-and wished his advisor had imparted to him more advice and less desk decor. Or a shredder. A paper shredder would have been nice. And he was so caught up in his own irritation over the stacks of badly printed papers that he had forgotten to lock his office door.

It was standard procedure for him, normally. But today had been...unpleasant to say the least.