Students receive instruction in the arts and sciences.

How's it going Harold?, gravelled masculinely from a few tables away. Yeah, not bad mate, as my rested pen raises brows that in turn tonguely prime lips for conversing.

Translation: there's still some hope for you, poor stammering blighter.

“So, Dillinger,” snapped a detective, “off with the winter underwear and let’s have a lookatcha.”