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[@Crimmy] [@Write] [@Silvan Haven] [@LokiLeo789][/center]

Well, no putting the bullet back in the chamber. The Mindaros had name-dropped him, as he had known they would, and Grat's inscrutable black eyes met the surly amber of Jericho's in a brief moment of searching; cool disdain met only with roiling aggravation. She turned her attention away from him after a second to look upon her parents with the doting eyes of an older daughter, but Jericho's had already drifted away from her to watch the new guy standing in the doorway, sizing each of them up. This time, it was their eyes that met, and he felt none of the spark of interest that he had felt with other Beacon students.

[color=9e0b0f][i]Geni Hung. The new team member.[/i][/color]

The Fiordilatte was gone? Another solid lead destined for the process of sublimation, turning to wisps of air in his hand?

[color=9e0b0f][i]God damn it.[/i][/color]

This was getting ridiculous.

[color=9e0b0f]"It's getting a little crowded in here,"[/color] he said aloud, more casually. [color=9e0b0f]"I'll clear out for the team meeting. I'm going back on the docks to claim my bike, God only knows what tin disease-addled shack the crew here shoved it into..."[/color]

He trailed off slightly, grouchily, pushing himself off the wall with one foot. He put a cap on his irritation for the moment he actually [i]saw[/i] his bike being molested and patted Valentinian and Severa on the back each softly with one hand.

[color=9e0b0f]"I'll see you all at -"[/color] Jericho raised his Scroll and waved it with a faintly dismissive eye roll [color=9e0b0f]"- [i]coffee.[/i]"[/color]

Maybe by the time they got there the polonium-210 he was going to put in Bianca's coffee would have done the trick. It wouldn't be very effective if you were judging the coffee on taste or presentation, but at least he wouldn't need to deal with a caffeinated Bird. What a sweet thought.

Jericho walked out of the room with a fluid, if hurried, grace, stepping aside for Geni Hung with a curt [color=9e0b0f]"'Scuse me, man" [/color] on his way out of the dorm and back towards the docks.

[hr]

[color=9e0b0f]"Piper. [i]Jericho.[/i]"[/color] It was the third time he had repeated himself to the dockworker. [color=9e0b0f]"I don't [i]know[/i] my team, I'm a transfer student. Atlas should have sent my paperwork."[/color]

"This shouldn't be that hard..." mused the dockworker, flipping through the Beacon roster on his clipboard after finally getting a sense of how badly Jericho just wanted to storm the collection area of the Beacon docks, find his bike and steal it. "Jack Orpheus, Jasmine Banks, Jayden Xiang-Delacroix, Jorie Ngo..."

[color=9e0b0f][i]"You skipped Je-.[/i]"[/color]

"Ahh, here we go!" the dockworker said. "You're buried down here at the bottom in some footnote. Okay, Jericho Piper, Team Flapjack, special request approved by Professor Ozpin." Jericho's head had shot up in alarm. "Your gear's in Bay A4, just walk in and--"

[color=9e0b0f]"Walk that back for me. You said my team name?"[/color]

"Flap. Jack."

[color=9e0b0f][i]I'm jumping.[/i]

[i]The docks are right there. God forgive me, I'm going to jump.[/i][/color]

The end of his hair had gone a shade of mortified pale red.

[color=9e0b0f]"At Atlas, I was Team HJNS. It's a royal name. Special operations. I didn't come here to be a [i][b]ğ͐ͬ̔ͣ̈́̍o͊͊ͤ̐͏d̽ͤ͐ͩ҉d͂̉ͫ̽͘͠a̋̈́ͪ̍ͦ̾͞͝҉m̑̒ͮ̾̄̐͘n̵ͤ͛̈́̀̐ [/b]pancake mascot.[/i]"[/color]

It was clear that he was less intimidating to the dockworker now with a gang name like Flapjack.

"Kid, do you want to reminisce, or do you want to grab your bike?"

The knuckles on his gloved hand popped, echoing like the crack of a revolver in the morning air.

[color=9e0b0f]"[i]Fine.[/i] 4A."[/color]

"4A."

Jericho began walking past the dockworker brusquely on the way to grab his motorcycle, trying to control his breathing and focus on the impending joy that would come with being on the bike ag--

"Hey, by the way, kid. Welcome to Beacon. It's no cakewalk, but an Atlesian tough guy like you shouldn't be too battered up, huh?"

A wolfish growl built up in Jericho's throat, and he whirled on one foot with his hand already reaching for one of the pistol holsters on his chest. Too late he realized that both of his guns had been stored on his bike to get it through Atlesian customs and into Beacon. This guy would be keeping both halves of his head today.

The hand that had flown so suddenly looking for a firearm curled up into a fist, one finger jutting out to point at the man accusingly.

He said nothing else, and even when he boarded his bike and began easing it towards the Beacon vehicle storage unit, the feeling of the vehicle underneath him didn't even make him crack a smile.

[hr]

Bianca Nuit put down her phone and took a long, healthy sip of her cappuccino when the door flew open, shoved one-handed by a tall, dark-featured young man wearing a frustrated scowl and a girlishly long head of hair that glowed an angry scarlet on one side. He ordered a cappuccino for himself wordlessly before his eyes scanned the coffeehouse's inside. He found Bianca in no time - after all, when there was only one person staring at you with eyes like full moons and a jaw that hung open wide enough to fit a cannon in her maw, you didn't exactly need a goddamn lineup to pick her out of.

Jericho slung one leg over the pulled-out chair Estelle had occupied minutes before and sat down in it with a huff, putting up both legs along the two chairs to his side. He found Bianca out of the corner of his eyes.

[color=9e0b0f]"Don't you even look at me."[/color]