[u]Cordelia Lynn Holmes[/u]

Yeah, the stares. She was used to the stares, given that she typically attracted a lot of them whenever Lynn left "those" parts of town. A quick look at the others seated at the table-one dude in a suit, the chick in the Michael Jackson get-up, creepy Goth lookin' lady that reminded Lynn of Morticia Addams, yet another rich kid...she could identify somebody's class with a couple of seconds' watching. Wasn't too hard once you got the hang of it, really-besides, years of...Robin Hooding...had honed her natural prejudices.

There was, however, one thing that absolutely broke Cordelia's gluttony, and that was the motherfucking talking lizard. Okay yeah the kid with the tail she could roll with but this was...this was unlike anything she'd seen. An almost childlike curiosity worked its way through Cordelia's usual outer mask and she watched the...supposed human...for a few seconds before catching herself and resuming eating. What, that guy was a teacher? Did they have a flamingo as a janitor or something? She noticed the suit eyeing her cigarettes, too. Oh, oh some serious shit was gonna go down if he tried to take any of her stuff. Given that you could literally fit all of Cordelia's earthly possessions into a backpack, she was perhaps understandably protective of her stuff. 

Christ. The lizard ate a fork. It didn't impede Cordelia's appetite at all, but still made her question what, exactly, she'd gotten herself into. Then a pink-haired "deer-in-the-headlights" meandered on by. Was there anyone with a semblance of normalcy at this school? Literally, anyone?

Cordelia realized she'd emptied her first plate, which had done nothing to fill the hollow that was her stomach. She hardly needed an excuse to go get more, but now everyone was introducing themselves. Apparently, because this place wasn't fucked up enough, they were hiring Teenage Mutant Ninja Lizards that had Ph.D's named "Henry". Cordelia, however, never being particularly good with names, did a quick up-down of the table and assigned a nickname to all the people breathing her air and filling her ears with asshole-sounding noises. Henry, he was Scales. Gabe-Michaela Jackson. Jaska-Fucker with a Tail. Jake-....Aerosmith. Because the dude looks like a lady. Sydney looked like a rabbit that wandered into the wolves' den. Henceforth, to Cordelia, she was "The Local Prison Bitch". Whatshisface with the mullet and teeth....hmm...well, she couldn't think of anything snappy, but he resembled your average West Virginian-and, come to think of it, was probably a virgin, so he got the flattering moniker of "Virgin". Tall, dark, and bitchy got Morticia. Anyone above "casual" dress level was "Suit", and she didn't need to get specific because the assholes who try and show off how rich they are and wear a suit to the first day of school? Don't need to bother learning about them. There was Sir-Scarfs-A-Lot and Ironsides over by The Local Prison Bitch. The others all at her table-because the table was, undoubtedly, Cordelia's. This series of pneumonic devices helped Cordelia to recognize people without having to go through the bullshit process of learning their names. She figured she would, likewise, be profiled pretty quickly, so she didn't feel too bad about it. Besides, if these people all had a touch of the supernatural, she wasn't about to risk playing too nice. Cordelia wasn't the type to tolerate people's crap on the normal level, much less on the superhuman level.

Cordelia got up and returned with more food, an honest-to-God smile on her face. You know, this place may have been comprised seemingly entirely of the world's rejects (and Cordelia was fully aware of the irony there), set in the middle of what looked like Vietnam, and literally run by lizardmen (which made Cordelia briefly question the legitimacy of all that Illuminati bullshit, and just as quickly remember there was food to eat and global conspiracies to unravel later), but hey, the food was delicious. So much so, in fact, she felt inspired to speak up just a tad bit. Cordelia wasn't a social butterfly-however, Suits and friends were already getting pretty chummy, and while Cordelia always had her guardian angel watching her back, it never hurt to have a few people who didn't outright hate you-you know, friends. "So," Cordelia muttered in-between bites, glancing at Doctor Scales, "How much silverware do you have to eat before you shit out a complete set?"