Ashil wasted no time in hurrying to his room once the formalities had been taken care of. He was, to put it plainly, sick of how the day was going, and really all he wanted to do was change. His clothes. They'd seen defeat for the day and that was enough for him to want to don something else, something fresh and perhaps a little showy. Didn't want to give off the impression he was going to just go quietly. So, once he was in his room, he quickly shut and locked the door before shedding the outfit he wore. It was nice, and he'd probably wear it again, but the vest and tie did little to boast confidence in the face of defeat, so he'd save it for a better day. Instead, he slipped into something more comfortable. The pants he put on were snug, and a deep but unimposing blue, and over that and a loose-stitched shirt he threw on a shining-bright cyan robe, embroidered with flowing lines that splintered around the curves of his shoulders and hips. He bound it tight around his waist, and rolled the sleeves up enough to throw some simple but elegant arm-warmers that ran up to his elbows. Moving to the mirror, he preened for a bit, fluffing his hair one such way, and then another, tying it up and then dropping it down. He liked the natural bounce it had, made things like this much easier.

It was then he felt a darker presence, and despite seeing nothing in the mirror, he turned around. Apep always demanded an attentive audience. The room was empty save for himself, but the old god was there all the same, as he always was. 

"It was a long day," Ashil said in a huff.

The emptiness was not sympathetic, and all at once he stood up straight, like ice had shot up his spine. 

"I know. I saw him. I'm not gonna be able to do anything about it [i]now[/i]. Just give me the rest of the day. Please?" 

After a moment, he let out a sigh, and adjusted the robe around him. A shudder crept its way up his shoulders, but he paid it no mind; encounters with the serpent left him harrowed in the best cases. Recomposing himself, he looked back to the mirror and traced a finger down his eye. This was good -the school-, it was a good opportunity for him. He needed the getaway, he needed the new ground. Most of all, he needed to learn to win. 

Snatching a small box from his largest suitcase, he left his room and strode through the halls of the dormitory, scouring the space for tables of some kind. His search led him outside, which was no trouble to him; he took a seat upon a bench an set the small box beside him. Inside, he found an orange, and a few wrapped sweets for later. He was indeed hungry after such a day, and having skipped breakfast to make it to the airport on time, he wasted no time in getting started. He always ate oranges the same way, each time; he buried his teeth into them, and then dragged the juice from it, drinking the fruit dry before peeling and eating what remained inside. He never required much to fill him up, and that would hold him for now.