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(Hey!)

(Good morning!)

"This is so much better than trying to take tests and what not...killing is much more enjoyable." Marth said as his sword became nice and shiny once again, "Perhaps I should clean my armor, too. Dried blood is such a pain to clean..."

She caught sight of Marth out of the corner of her eye, and proceeded to roll their emerald green irises. “Use a spray three parts lemon zest, and one part lime and one part orange juice. Wipe it afterwards with a warm and damp rag.”

Marth jumped back at the sudden voice, "Wh-Where'd you come from?" He stared at her, nodding at the things she said to use, "Thanks for the...um, advice..."

The angel shrugged, slipping the paperwork over the desk toward the attendant. “Pepper also helps with the smell, and salt covers up the peppers’.”

Marth nodded and headed towards a small tree a short way from the school, getting the stuff out. "Huh? I actually have this crap...amazing."

(Is school over, or is he just ditching?)

(He's just ditching.)

Wisteria adjusted the strap of her bag and went to the cafeteria for food.

((Ah. What can we do with this scene? ( o V o ))

(Perhaps Marth could be caught in some random battle, forcing someone to step in?)

Marth continued polishing his armor, getting every splotch of blood of it. The armor shines in the cool sun.

(Uh, sure. Want me to put Damien in for a bit?)

(Sure. If you've got any other ideas to throw over the battle scene, fire away.)

(‘Kay.)

Damien sauntered outside, his red eye covered by his shaggy, emo-typical hair, leaving only his blue eye exposed. Marth and the half-demon had a.. warring relationship. They hated one another, but held some slight kudos for their fighting skills.

Marth was busy trying to clean off the armor, getting every square inch of it. Soon, it was as reflective as an old mirror. He moved onto his sword next, properly cleaning it off. "At least the weather's nicer today..."

The teen saw Marth, and turned his stride toward him. “At this rate, you'll never develop a brain if you keep ditching class."

Marth rolled his eyes, "What's the point of class? They just teach you the same things over and over...besides, who are you to call me out for ditching?"

He held up his hand, a small piece of paper between his pointer and middle fingers. “I have a reason. You’re cleaning your armor during class instead of at your house or at lunch on your own time.”

"I just returned from a mission myself. Regardless, you've got no reason to care about the decisions I make." Marth said, keeping his eyes on the sleek blade he was still polishing off. "I suppose this could've waited until lunch, but nobody likes the smell of sour juices...nor would it make for a good scent at home."

“Sounds like a personal problem. And since when did you start caring about other people’s interests?”

"I don't give a damn about the people, it's a simple way to blow off steam..get rid of some excess stress." Marth sounded a bit insane at this point.