This man looked at that teabag with hatred, with a gaze that would send chills down the spine of the hardiest of soldiers. He did not stop at staring though, no he grabbed that teabag and drowned it, with a heart as cold as ice he stirred the glass of water where the teabag floated, battling for air.
Movement ceased, the teabag had died. However that was not enough to clench the thirst for blood that Aran Rickman was feeling, he grabbed the teabag's watery grave and, with the rage of a thousand men, threw it so far that no mortal eye could see where it had landed.
His face twisted from pure malice and with the strength of an enraged titan he grabbed the table in front of him and flipped it, no one was spared, from the pen to the notebook, all of it flew, spinning gruesomely in mid air.