Private Dragon Intervention

Qing knew that he didn't look at all like a teacher. At most, he was an older, slightly more tired post-grad student who'd had one too many cups of tea. At best, he resembled one of the college kids finishing a degree. When he witnessed the fight, he almost wanted to sit back and watch the kids duke it out — one of them was clearly losing, and the other's words filtered over on the breeze.

"You're gonna apologise to them."

A bully, eh? Qing guessed that the winning kid was defending the other one — the younger student was watching from a safe distance, looking like they wanted to puke. The would-be bully flinched at the blue-haired kid's statement. He looked like he was regretting his life decisions. Hell, if he were a mortal, he'd be scared, too. The kid was taller than Qing himself!

Which meant that Qing had to do his job. He strode over, and patted the victim on the back, aiming to reassure. Then, with his baby-blue scarf tucked neatly around his neck, the teacher emerged into the fray, stepping in between the Boy and the Other Boy.

"That's enough," he said in a calm, even tone. A hint of amusement poked through his voice, as if daring either one to contradict his ruling. "What," motioned Qing, to the cowering bully, and then the blue-haired one, "Is going on?"

@Saber

"Jiang Zheng Qing, Faculty." Qing responded equally bluntly, though the amusement in his voice crept up even more. "And I can see that."

Then, he raised an eyebrow in return. Qing craned his neck up to meet the blue-haired kid's eyes, watching him steadily. He still stood in front of the bully, shielding the kid with his body. He'd no love for bullies, but the kid was still a kid, no matter how distasteful his actions were. Just because one person got beat up didn't mean that a whole beating-up chain had to ensue.

"I'm gonna ignore that statement," the teacher said with a wry smile. He was certainly done with any college papers he had to do — especially since he'd written a grand total of zero. "So how 'bout you let me deal with him? Bullying isn't tolerated in this school, but an eye for an eye makes the world go blind."

"Kid, I like your philosophy," Was he even supposed to be affirming students like this? "But that's not something you do in this school, like it or not. Vigilante justice and playground fights escalate things."

They didn't, not if you beat the bully up until he couldn't move, and left him there to rot, but Qing wasn't going to tell the kid that. He didn't want to encourage even more violence, and anyway, beating other kids up within an inch of their lives would be assault in more ways than one.

"Detention, methinks," He smiled at the bully, "And you'll be suspended if you do it again." Qing motioned to him to do what the kid had said, and that was apologise. Then, he turned to the younger student. "You okay? Get thee to the infirmary if you need physical repair." Best to get this mess sorted out asap.

The kid was trying not to look smug, but it practically leaked out from him in waves. Not that Qing minded — if he'd been in his position, Qing probably would have done the same — and more, if a teacher hadn't stepped in. He nodded at the kid as the bully slunk off. Only when he'd disappeared, did Qing relax, stretching his arms in front of him. The kid's looming height didn't seem to bother the teacher, who was almost dwarfed.

"Yes, yes, we're done. I'm gonna need your name and your level, for administrative purposes." Qing shrugged, but looked expectantly at the boy. What was he gonna do about it? Refuse? Even if he kept mum, Qing could ask around and find out. And it was true — he did need to know who the kid was, since he'd been involved in a playground fight. "I'll have to give you a warning," he said to the boy, "but I'll buy you lunch. Fair's fair."

"Aw, hell no. I'm not a kid, kid. I'm probably old enough to be your father."

Qing wrinkled his nose and set off, hands folded behind his back, walking at a leisurely pace. Eein would have no problem following along, but Qing was content to walk slower and take in the sights. Ah, a job well done. One point for him in the brownie points book.

"Level, grade, tomato, potato. Same thing." He waved a hand. He was too used to calling them levels, and he guessed that the kids just referred to them as grades all the time. Damn, the kid looked old. With his height and his fists, Qing had pegged him for a 17 or 18-year-old, not... whatever age a junior was supposed to be. Years and years, and he still couldn't remember which age went where.

"A teacher, yeah. Mr Jiang — that's for the kids who're sticklers for the rules. Most of 'em call me Zheng Qing. My kids call me Jiang Lao Shi. What," Qing raised a brow in amusement, "Y'think I'm too babyfaced to be one?"