"I hope they're annoyed. I hope it bothers them. They should be. If you're too comfortable, you're living life wrong." Melchior insisted as he hung over the back of his chair. He had moved the chair around into every possible position and was hanging off the back of the chair now, straddling it so he was on the wrong way around. He never could sit still, too much to do and all.

"But yes, I will focus up. I do want to go out this weekend. There's a anti-fascism protest going on. You should come." Melchior reluctantly opened his binder back up, searching for the notes that Hänschen would need to finish the essay. It wasn't that he was restricting them on purpose, he just kept forgetting where they were in the analysis part.

He leaned over and scribble some quick annotations to explain his shorthand. "I assume you would. Being part of our favourite letter gang and all."

"You know, it should. Your right to sleep around with every guy and girl in the city is only there because we have fought for the rights and continue to. Don't forget your roots and that's the mass-to-charge ratio, don't forget formal charge is usually +1." Melchior swapped topics without breaking his pace even slightly. Chemistry was not his favourite but he was no slouch, he knew his stuff. He went to class.

He had prepared, he had been bored and he had caused quite the disruption last class by 'accidentally' knocking over a vial of Boron tribromide, causing black smoke and an immediate evacuation for the rest of the day.

"We must fight for our rights more so than ever." Melchior insisted as he continued to add to his notes. "C2H6O is around 78.0317 in exact mass."

"What?" Melchior turned his head, looking at Ernst, who was now very much looked away with his eyes glued to the book he had in front of him. Next to him was Moritz, looking deeply miserable with his lot in life. From all he had heard, Moritz had repeated a year and struggled often with his studies. Life must have been so hard for him.

"He is definitely growing up. One year he was small, the next a bean pole." Melchior noted as he amended his calculations and then slid the paper over to Hänschen. He turned his head and wondered what they were studying. "I assume it is mathematics that has Moritz looking so distraught."

"Such a shame. Life already brings him challenges." Being deaf and all. Melchior looked at Moritz for a moment, attempted to refocus on their chemistry essay for all of a second before giving up entirely. "Hans, we are very privileged, are we not? We are intelligent young men with all of this knowledge and there are people who are not so lucky. I say we extend a little ... attention to the problem."

Yes, he was going over there. And yes, he was already going before Hänschen could protest. He knocked on the desk until Moritz looked at him and then signed as he spoke. "Is it calculus, trigonometry or algebra that has you looking so down?"