[center][h2][color=OliveDrab]Tobit Broflovski[/color][/h2][/center][center][url=http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=211511810]outfit[/url][/center]

[color=OliveDrab]"Uhh..." [/color]
Toby looked a little lost. He wasn't really expecting to be addressed so suddenly, and having the events of a couple days ago brought up sent unpleasant memories coursing back through his mind. He sat up and cleared his throat, readjusting the bandage over his eye which had started to slip, showing the corner of what appeared to be a large gash across his forehead and over his left eyelid. 
[color=OliveDrab]"I guess so. I mean, are school years ever 'smooth'?"[/color] He laughed quietly to himself, looking just over Quinten's shoulder rather than directly at him. [color=olivedrab]"Anyway, I dunno about being good at fighting, no matter how bad Marco is. I've been in a few fights in my lifetime... which is to say I've [i]lost[/i] a few fights in my lifetime. Besides, Marco and I aren't even mad at each other or anything."[/color] Toby wasn't quite so sure about the last part. At least, he hoped that Marco wasn't cross with him for being kind of rude the other day. He hadn't acted like he was. 
Toby coughed harshly, once again instinctively fingering through his pocket for his inhaler even though he knew it wasn't there. He wondered if anyone in this room had a dog or something. That would explain his asthma acting up. Either way, it probably wasn't a big deal and he intended to ignore it as long as he possibly could. 
He turned his gaze back to the floor, occasionally glancing up at Quinten who seemed to be talking to someone else now. That 'someone else' he recognized as being Maria from Wednesday at the carnival. Funny how all those people he talked to happened to share homeroom with him, he thought, looking out the window with a slight wince of discomfort.
[@A Tattooed Girl]