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[centre][color=silver][b][h1]Sill Vernol[/h1][/b][/color][/centre]
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[color=gray]	The Speech itself was nothing to exactly fantasise over, but it could've been worse...Or could've it? I mean...Lessons were important and all, but then again...The Festival. It was things like this that got his mind in a scuffle. Yes, he would be enjoying himself, and could use the time wisely to crack up his communication that his team had been telling him to wise up on, yet he could still be gathering the theoretical side of his progress and acing it like he wished he could be, and was, doing. Unfortunately, why let himself look more of a goon than in previous days when he could be making a name for himself. He did want to make a name for himself? Right?

	Sill Vernol had been standing on his own for quite some time. He was one of the first out of the hall, and found a comfortable spot that was not too crowded to allow his team-mates, if they were to show their late and slow backsides soon, to find him without too much trouble. Due to the classes not being in play, Sill did take the opportunity to dress as he normally would, the standard Light-Grey, or [i]Silver[/i] over-jacket with the typical white button undershirt. Yes, it was quite smart...But, it was not far from casual. Sill's eyes would flicker around the area, watching people walk past, and the booths that were on display. One that caught his attention in particular housed a very confident woman juggling her produce's bottles around for the fun of it, to try and lure in customers. Unfortunately, confident did not always refer to as [i]Skilled[/i] and it only took a matter of seconds for a synchronised chorus of smashing to pipe up. 

	Now don't get him wrong, Sill can be one of those genuinely nice people who you can just get along with and use as a rant-punching bag if need be, but occasionally to pass the time, Sill would mentally insult people in his thoughts. Only the ones who made fools of themselves. Plus it was not out of spite, but just because clearly everyone else was thinking it. From looking to the guy who thought he was a right lad flirting with four girls at once, to the lass in the corner trying to have a sing to herself, thinking she was amazing, when in reality the only sounds coming out were Grimm Mating calls.

	Somehow, from that thought, he went on to thinking about his team once again. Strange bunch, they were, even if it is hypocritical to say so himself. There was Mr. Detachment himself, Gradon Giltwith. Now he was difficult to talk to, especially coming from someone who was just floating around all the time and hovering amongst the social league table. Sure, he was a promising fighter, but there were still certain life skills that needed to be picked up. Sill sometimes wandered if he had even bothered to learn how to walk, considering how much attention he pays to Combat training. He could not argue, though...Gradon was probably a brilliant person on the inside. But the miscommunication that Sill always delivered never really helped.

	Who was next? Aha...None other than Liadan Silverstein. Out of all his team-mates, Sill felt like he didn't really speak to her at all. Unless it consisted of work, combat tactics or movement, he was not the sort of person to waltz up and chant multiple greetings and give her a present or something. The two probably could've gotten along very well if they had spoken more in the past, but when it came to getting what needed to be done completed, it was not something of a bad taste. At least that was how Sill saw it. For all he knew, his team could see him in a far different way.

	Last, but the heart and soul of the team, to some degree, was Marianne Beiget. The team's leader, she seemed the most capable out of them for that role. Sill could not put his finger on whether he spoke to her the most, or Mr [i]'How-Do-Doors-Good'[/i]? Whether or not he did, Sill was at least prepared to follow the orders she gave, if she did. If it was irrational, sure he may protest or advise other strategies or approaches, but that hadn't been encountered so far. She gave a vibe off of averageness. By that, Sill thought the most interesting thing about her was the fact that she didn't seem to be interesting amongst everyone else. Sill thought he was uninteresting, considering the place and average, happy life he lived coming up to the current days, but she just seemed normal. Her weapon was not exactly the most exciting thing ever, but who cared? As long as it upheld peace...For all he cared it could be a bloody sponge with a Grimm Flag on it.

	From thinking about his team...He wondered where they were. A hand of his found the fingers slipping through his hair to check it had not fallen out of place. The style, as per usual, was ruffled into a natural style. What was the point in making you look nice with hair if you were only going to get your head cut off or chewed up? If he was going to die, he might as well die like a normal individual. Yet he was far from normal. Just the typical guy who did what he was told. Never really went against it, as of now...He thought.[/color]

[color=Silver][b]"Pfft...Maybe I should start spending more 'social-time' with 'em...Can't hurt that much to actually get all social."[/b][/color] [color=Gray]That being said, he continued to wait for his team. For the love of everything in existence, he wished they would show up. He was tired of getting eyed by the guy at the Kissing Booth...[/color]