Ashling heard the voice of an intruder in the domain of the girl's bathroom and turned her head to face his interrupting words that ignored her presence entirely. She immediately hated him, despised him, loathed him. Everything about him disgusted her. His ears, eyes, nose, mouth, tongue, legs, knees, stomach, ribs and bottom made her want to vomit up. He was repulsive, loathsome, grotesque and insupportable. She wanted to kill him, she wanted want to twist his nipples off and throw them to the dogs. The scum. That low, corrosive lump of fecal horror, that maniac bastardly turd. She would rather have drank stale urine from Norman Fowler's arse-pit than remain one moment more in his defiling company. He was filth, he was cack, he was the ooze of a burst boil, she abominated him, the towering mound of corrupted slime. His every utterance was like the slithering hiss of a fat maggot in the putrid guts of a decomposing rat, his face is fouler than the unwiped inner ring of Satan's sphincter.
The Succubus cleared her throat and gestured to the door with her right hand, her left holding the hidden sheath attached to her waist. She hoped that it would be enough to send the male back into the hallway, as there would be no rule-breakers on her account in the bathroom, nevermind one that ignored her presence entirely, regardless of whatever rights he sought to place upon his shoulders as though he was the King of Go-Screw-Yourself Street. "Sir, would you kindly leave? The boy's bathroom is on the other side of the hall." She requested clearly in a tone that held no violence, but had a firmness to it that was perhaps the most teacherly thing the students had heard all day, if his teacher was at all like Higoroshi's.