As much as Tudor enjoyed stand band season, the three words he used to describe it were 'Hell on Earth.' He loved his music, he loved band, but he hated football games like a Marvel fan hates a DC fan (those strange people who like both exclusive.) Though he thought it was much better than marching band season, he hated having to cheer on a bunch of idiots playing a pointless, barbaric game (in his opinion.) His cynicism was sometimes infectious, but he had to grin and bare it. After all, it was still an excuse for him to play, right? Exactly.

The best thing was to watch all those people flood into one room, all for a simple band practice. The very idea of that camaraderie excited him, even if he never showed it. That would be letting his guard down. Something he couldn't afford to do, under any circumstances. People were people, no matter how much camaraderie they could show. Everyone has it in them to be worse than they should be. Well, that's what Tudor thought.

With his folder in hand, Tudor shuffled to the practice room, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone. Now wasn't the time to be socializing. A bunch of freshmen would be joining the group today, he dreaded it. As much as he could pretend to be passive, he was being nice behind gritted teeth. Kids coming in and acting like they rule the roost, they're the best. It killed him sometimes. Couldn't they just be down to Earth, like him? Complaints aside, he silently skulked into the practice room, acknowledging any presences with a curt nod.