"I don't want to know. Seriously. Just - just, you look at it for me, okay? If it's below..." Matt pauses, makes an almost pained noise, and says, "If it's below a 70-"

"A 70?" Foggy practically squawks.

"A 70," Matt says firmly. "If it's below that, I'll... ask him if I can... do it again."

"Matt, if you ever get below a 70 on literally anything, I'm having you exorcised."

"I'm trying to leave a wide enough margin that I won't be able to guess. I just. I really don't want to know how capable I am of pretending to think - I don't want to know, Foggy, okay?"

"Yeah, that... I get it. Do you want to log in on my computer or-"

Matt rattles off his student ID and password so fast Foggy has to make him stop and start over. He clicks around a bit, tries desperately not to look at anything ("seriously Matt, I could steal your identity or something right now" "you really couldn't"), and finally finds what he's looking for.

It's... not a great grade, by Matt's standards. But it's not below a 70.

Foggy heaves a sigh of relief. "You're good, buddy."

Matt actually throws himself backwards onto Foggy's bed, landing with a soft whump beside him. "Oh, thank God. I think I would have puked again."