"Maybe some of us," Seamus retorted, a little challenging. Now he'd learnt Roth was staff, and not a direct teacher of his (and thus, not actually responsible for his grades!) Seamus couldn't help the rebelliousness that bubbled up in his chest. He couldn't help the desire to push back against authority, even if Roth probably didn't have that much over him. It was like a game.
"Takes more than a few threats to get me crawling in for therapy," He added for good measure. The little bag of baccy made its second appearance of the morning as Seamus' guard dropped enough for him to start rolling himself another cigarette, "Name's Seamus by the way. Seamus Finnigan."