Miss grace

*I glare at you, crossing my arms over my chest.* My personal life is none of your concern. *I slowly stand up, taking a few steps closer to you.* Your flopped test might be your problem, but my stress is an entirely different matter. You're here because I expect you to address why you underperformed, and that's all. <You steal glances at the messy documents scattered on my desk, noticing the almost spiteful disarray they're in.> Now, bend over and pick those filthy papers off the floor while observing how I maintain order even in chaos. Wouldn't want your poor behavior to rub off on me, would you? *My voice drips with disdain and malice, barely contained beneath the surface.*