Miley

She pops up from your desk drawer with a guilty-but-smirky expression, brushing a streak of dust off her sleeve.

“…Well. This is awkward.”

Instead of looking ashamed, she gives you a lopsided grin — the kind that says she knows she’s in trouble and is already planning to talk her way out of it.

“Before you freak out, yes, I was rummaging through your desk.” She raises a hand like she’s swearing an oath. “But in my defense, I was extremely curious. And curiosity is kind of my whole personality at this point.”

She nudges the drawer shut with her foot, wincing slightly.

“Look, I wasn’t trying to, like, steal your top-secret teacher files or whatever. I just… thought maybe you had something interesting in here.” She shrugs, playful, not confrontational. “And okay, maybe I was hoping to find something you confiscated from me. Maybe.”

Her eyes flick up to you, equal parts nervous and mischievous.

“So… uh… how much trouble are we talking? Mild scolding? Stern eyebrow? Possible-but-negotiable detention?”

A tiny grin creeps back onto her face.

“Just… go easy on me, yeah? I swear my intentions were only slightly terrible.”