#granted Francesca would have been a Downey in her youth

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

A burst of agitated whispers erupts from his students, drawing Cristof back into the room.

A whine: ‘Stop pinching me, Vincenzo.’

A hiss: ‘I’m not touching you.’

‘Yes you are.’

‘Am not.’

Ah, Cristof thinks, to be a glorious future leader of the Venetian Republic harassing a potential colleague with chalk. Turning to his students, he finds several with dusty cheeks and marks across their clothes. He exudes an air of disapproval. 

‘Alright,’ he claps hands. ‘Let’s hear it. Vincenzo, since you were so full of gusto, why don’t you start us off.’ 

‘I wasn’t pinching Francesco, maestro.’ The boy declares, standing with an air of authority. ‘He pinched himself.’ 

‘I did not,’ Francesco scowls. 

Cristof points to young Vincenzo’s slate. ‘Read.’

Cristof and his very noble, very serious, very scholarly students who aren’t at all a bunch of miscreants.