Room 417, Friday Morning

The night before the last final exam of her high school career, Jill McTeague went to bed.

The next morning, Jack McTeague got up. He was pretty sure Jill had been operating on blind hope that the cycle would be off this month, though if it had been too far off he might have walked at graduation, and wouldn't that have pissed her off? Ha. Still, just in case, she'd left her notes out for him to read over. Jack was...actually a little nervous. If he bombed Jill's class she'd never forgive him, but it wasn't like she could expect him to learn an entire semester's worth of business whatever in a couple of hours.

Of course, then there was the fact that the post-it Jill had stuck to said notes began, Jack, I'm not sure any of this will be useful... so Jack wasn't sure why he was bothering. Still, here he was, eating (smooth) peanut butter out of the jar and reading Jill's stupidly thorough notes like he would remember any of it ten minutes later. He stood a better chance digging around in Jill's memory, honestly, but whatever.

((Mostly establishy, but can be open if you so please!))