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Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Apr 18, 2011 21:25:08 GMT -5
 Francis is sitting, alone, in one of the auditorium's seats. He'd be in class, but he just can't find it in him to get up and go; besides, it's not like he's learning something that he doesn't already know. The courses hold nothing interesting for him, so why should he bother to go? With a slow, lazy sigh, he pulls out a cigarette, lights up, and takes a long drag. It's been a long week, anyway. A boring week. No one to talk to that he hasn't talked to lately, nothing new, just the usual boring routine. God, he should stop smoking. But whatever. He could use some excitement. Maybe he'll get caught. (Come on, make his day.) |
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Post by Lars Van Der Zant on Apr 25, 2011 23:43:27 GMT -5
((Hi there! Hope you don't mind if I butt in (: ))
Getting kicked out of class got old. However, getting kicked out of class, by a teacher who was teaching you your own life story, as well as testing you on it , just didn’t.
Mrs. What’shername’s voice progressively grew louder as Lars turned his back to her, focusing merely on the caricature he was illustrating on the whiteboard. He snickered to himself quietly as a large pair of thick rimmed glasses was daubed onto a lopsided face. The class behind him could do none less but laugh. Finishing with a swoop of his wrist, Lars signed his name with a flourish and looked to the professor for mock approval.
She gave up yelling or trying to chastise him any further and pointed to the door. Lars bowed smugly to the class and sauntered out the door.
Told to wait outside, he began to stroll about the halls, donning a lighter and a pre-rolled joint from his chest pocket. A thin coil of smoke began to trail him wherever he went. In truth, Lars really only acted out in “class”, if it could even be considered one, because it was fun. He could be the best student out there if he really wanted to, honour roll, straight A’s, the headmaster’s star. But fuck it; he knew everything they were teaching. Could’ve probably even taught it better than three quarters of the paid educators in this academy.
Lars felt a minute twinge of guilt, he did give the teachers a hard time...
By now his wanderings had taken him to a room with large wooden double doors, thick gold print read AUDITORIUM . That meant comfortable chairs, anything better than the stiff plastic Lars began his day in continuously.
Swinging one door open, he inched it closed as he walked into the seemingly empty theatre. Holding the joint in his teeth, Lars stretched out his arms comfortably and cracked his knuckles.
Bright orange dragged his eyes to a corner of the theatre where a man with long blonde hair was sitting facing opposite Lars.
”Oi!”
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