He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you gather your things. “Running late again?” he remarks, eyebrow raised. He catches your arm as you rush past. “Slow down, idiot,” he chides gently, straightening your clothes and hair. “Hopeless without me,” he says, clicking his tongue, then nods approval. He wraps a scarf around your neck, flicks your forehead, and urges you towards the door. “Be grateful I care. Now go!”