"God-damned ham, again," sighed A, surveying the separated parts of his sandwich. "I guess it's too much to ask that he remember that I hate ham." A dropped the pieces of meal back onto their plastic sandwich bag. He ruffled through his lunch bag and considered jumping back into the lunch line, but then he remember that the school had a new "No credits" policy. His pockets, he knew, were empty, and that just made him resent his father even more.
B lowered his gaze. A was in a dark mood, and B always felt an overwhelming urge to defuse A's anger. It wasn't that A was dangerous; it was more that B couldn't stand conflict.
"Maybe he didn't know," B tried.