[b][u]Chris[/u][/b]

    The room was small. Kinda dingy, actually, and a mess. An open duffel bag lay on the table, a few shirts hanging out over the edge. Jeans were draped over a chair, a jacket hung on the doorknob, a blanket had been kicked onto the floor, and even the bed itself was a mess. Well, if it could really even be called a bed, more like a glorified cot (admittedly a little wider) with a bedroll on top, but that's beside the point. It was nicer than what some of the other to-be 5th years stayed in at least. 

Chris woke up early that morning. Which is to say, early by [i]his[/i] standards. He rose with the sun. But today was different; he had to go back to the Academy. Fuck. He was only half-packed. Again: Fuck. He scooted over, sat at the edge of the cot, rubbed his eyes,scratched his [i]organic[/i] bicep -the left one- and yawned. A rag sat on the end table against the wall next to his bed. He picked it up, and gave his metal arm a once-over, rubbing out any spots that may have accumulated and hardened during the night. There was a noise from behind him as he stood up, a stirring of the sheets and the murmur of a voice. He looked behind him; oh shit. The girl. Fuck. FUCK! What was her name again? Fuck. He had to pack. Now. 
    
    Sliding off the bed, he started retrieving his guns from their hiding places near him. Pistol between the mattress and headboard, check. Revolver behind the end table, check. Sniper rifle underneath the bed, check. He looked frantically around the room, trying to figure out what to do next. Pants! Yeah, pants. That would be good. He tiptoed over to the chair quickly, grabbed the pair of jeans, and started putting them on. KRRRP! Shit. Big toe ripped a huge hole in the knee. Oh well. Ripped jeans were back in-style anyway. He flipped the dangling clothes back into the duffel, and tossed any items lying about into it as well before zipping it up as quietly as he could. Lifting up the bra on top, he grabbed his shirt off the bedpost. It was one of his favorites- "Feed My Frankenstein." Ah, Alice Cooper. The music of his grandparents, as he affectionately called it. They were pretty cool people. Okay, mind wandering. Re-focus. Gotta go. He grabbed his duffel off the table, and his jacket off the door, stuffing his arms in as he started running down the hall. He suddenly stopped and did a 180. Guns. He ran back, stuffing his guns in the holsters in his jacket, and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He looked back at the girl. She was still asleep, and... Hey. She was actually pretty cute. Maybe he [i]would[/i] leave her his number on a scrap of paper, or... Nah.
    
    Still barefoot, he got outside just in time to see the griffon land in front of him. He had to brace himself from the wind that its wings created. Walking over to it, he rubbed its beak before pulling its head into an embrace. 
    
    "Hey, buddy... Long time no see." 
    
    The griffon cawed quietly in response. 
    
    "Well, don't worry. I'll come visit you once I get settled in, alright?"
    
    The griffon shook its neck and ruffled its feathers.
    
    "Alright, there's my boy." 
    
    He patted its head before hopping up onto its side. The beast wasted no time before letting off a caw, getting a good running start, and taking off into the early morning darkness.