"Doesn't mean you can do whatever you want," said John slowly, his eyes narrowed darkly. "Doesn't mean you get to just disregard the people around you. Disregard the rules."

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. A part of him knew that his son was right -- he would in all likelihood be able to do well in this subject with ease. He would face no consequences. He'd never had to. Not really. He got to not try and get away with it.

"One set of rules for the world, another for you. That's how it's always worked, huh?" John snorted. The sight of Greg, lounging lazily in his chair, his dirty shoes up on the desk, was making John feel sick and angry. This was his son. "Get out of here," he snapped. "Obviously you're not taking this a bit seriously, so just, get out of here."