When William had corrected Jackson on his punching by holding Jackson's arms in the correct position the Hufflepuff was polluted by the swarm of the butterflies. Why now? Why of all places did Jackson's confusion have to come to the front, he needed to help William!
'I'm not really an angry person.' He replied, shrugging with a cute little grin sweeping across his face. It was true he was usually always cheerful. Although a part of that merriness evaporated at the mention of Jackson's problems. Nobody usually asked about Jackson's problems, purely because he never had any - or he never usually had any. Right now the problem was being here, in this room with William, seeing William punch the pad was rather: admirable? Or attractive?
'I-I don't have any.' Jackson hesitated. He was an honest person and being honest made him a terrible liar. He placed an arm across his chest and rubbed his shoulder nervously. 'So.. Boxing.' Jackson added, changing the subject and walked away from William to the other side of the pad.
WHAM! 'OUCH!' Jackson cried out. He'd hit the pad at a faulty angle and now his fingers were killing, it appeared boxing really wasn't his thing.
Bouncing up and down on the spot Jackson wrenched the boxing equipment from his hand and raised it up to his face, examining his injured fingers. There was a red mark across his fingers.
(OOC; whoever, whatever feels right
maybe Willy can comfort Jackson's hand)