[s][i][b][color=6ecff6]MAKO REED[/color][/b][/i][/s]

Mason was dropped off late by his trainer, Nix, in an old, tattered Honda. Staring out the window, Mako noticed the hoard of controversial-looking teens stood by the roadside - waiting for the next bus no doubt - and urged his trainer to drop him off there instead. I short nod was exchanged between the two, no more, no less, and as the door closed behind Mako has he lurched his bulk through the door, many expectant eyes stopped to look. It wasn't so much the sound of the car that drew their attention, but more the constant under-the-breath swears and clumsy movements of Mako that seemed to be causing a scene. 

"Fuck this bastard bag." Mako barked in a thick Yorkshire accent, dragging an old gym bag with his academy's logo on the sides. Strapped to it were a pair of boxing gloves, and on top of that, Mako wore an equally raggedy old rucksack. He dragged it up to the group, who had fell silent apart from the odd conversation still going strong. Girls with snake heads, emo hair, [i]dungarees[/i]. This must be the bunch, and Mako couldn't help feeling a little self-conscious - all he was wearing was a hoodie, a pair of red Adidas Gazelle's, and his 'going out' tracksuit bottoms. His hair drooped down, the curls in the ends whipping around in all different directions, and he had forgotten to shave his stubble beard. 

"I don't mean to to be shit at first impressions..." Mako began, pulling out a rolled-up cigarette and sticking it in his big-toothed smile, of which a bumpy, broken nose hung over "But has anyone got a lighter I can borrow?"