The buzz of the alarm stirred Abel fairly easily, though not without invoking some resentment in him.  Just because his daily routine back home involved awakening in early hours, didn't mean he had grown fond of it.  He sat up on his elbows, blinking blearily at the shapes in the room that were just now coming into focus.  First came the sheets, which were fairly haphazard.  Abel guessed that he had been kicking in his sleep again, though if he had dreamed, he could never remember.  According to dad, as evidenced by Abel's behavior during one of the wilderness raids, he was a very mobile sleeper when in a place he wasn't accustomed to.  The guardian shook his head, reminded by the sight of the still-ringing clock that he had a schedule to keep, and spending lazy time reminiscing about the past wouldn't get him to class in any better of a condition.

That was the moment the smell hit him.  Syrup, bread...pancakes!  For a moment Abel wondered if he had finally started dreaming, and that he had awoken into a paradise.  He moved sluggishly into a sitting position, his legs easily reaching the floor over the side of the bed, and stared at the breakfast feast after making sure that nobody else was around.  Though he always slept in a shirt and shorts, he couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, and it didn't escape him that he had been the last to awaken.  Where were his teammates?  Unable to provide an answer, his thoughts drifted back to the pancake treat.  Did Beacon have room service?  Amused at the thought, Abel smiled and grasped the plate.  He wolfed them down quickly, though very careful not to get any sticky syrup on the sheets that had afforded him such a comfortable slumber.  Only after did he notice the scrap of paper, which he picked up and -after rediscovering with disgust that he couldn't read the darn thing- held at arms length.  [i]Gren, eh?  He's racking up a lot of owed favors from me.  How am I going to repay him?[/i]

With the room empty, he had no qualms about showering.  It took him fourteen minutes to both cleanse himself and become fully awakened by the glorious, steaming-hot water.  When he exited the bathroom, he felt thoroughly revitalized, and though his smile from earlier had vanished he was content nonetheless.  After rummaging through his suitcase, he put away the plaid hoodie he had worn during the initiation ceremony and chose instead his blue coat.  His armor came next, buckled on with the quickness and efficiency ascertained by much repetition.  With no way to collapse the Ampere, he decided he would shift it to staff mode and use it like a walking stick, but before he could get going Abel rationalized that he needed to find out where to go.  Slipping on his reading glasses, he unplugged his scroll and scanned it for information.  Cool, breezy morning in the wake of late-night showers.  Currently 7:33.  First class of the day: combat, instructed by Ms. Glynda Goodwitch.  He made for the door, only pausing to consider the muddy outline of two boots on the threshold.  Judging by their size, there was only one person that it could be.  “Does Gren sleep in that armor?”  Abel asked the door, before opening it.

-=-=-

He took his time getting there, but still arrived just as the passing period began.  Along the way Abel had seen a few teachers and other students, most notably the team that he recollected was called Jormungandr -though the members' names eluded him-.  

It didn't take long for Ms. Goodwitch to take charge.  He paid her rapt attention at first, though found himself momentarily distracted by her assistant.  He found himself drawn to the bright colors of her attire, not to mention a pretty face and rather visible thighs.  Abel's attention was seized, however, the the grand opening of the doors that masked the combat room.  [i]An arena,[/i] he thought as Sarina read off the list, [i]Where I can prove myself.[/i]  Robert Fallson?  Didn't ring a bell.