[center][hr][hr][color=c71585][h1]Preston James McTavish[/h1][/color] [hr][hr] [center][img]http://data3.whicdn.com/images/34835656/large.gif[/img][/center] [b][u]Location;[/u][/b] Dorm Lobby [b][u]Interacting With;[/u][/b] NPC [b][u]Mentioned[/u]:[/b] Peter [@SouffleGirl123][/center][hr][hr] The Son of Hera arrived like a Prime Minister. A white Hummer H2 pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the dormitory building along with five other vehicles from black Fords to Chevy Impalas. The vehicles lined the edge of the sidewalk before several men wearing black suits and wires popped open their car doors and began to rush the lengthy limousine. New students might have actually thought that the President of the United States had just arrived to the dormitory until one of the suited gentleman approached the side door and opened it. A black polished shoe settled onto the vehicle’s step before a second shoe followed to step down onto the sidewalk. The ten suits formed a file leading to the door of the dormitory as a young man donning a creamy-white suede long jacket with fur lining its interior passed between them. His dark hair was combed and whipped with light oil, hairline straight and crisp over brows that hovered above a pair of black and gold Maybach-styled sunglasses. The man was a student, but with the way he walked and dressed, one might have confused him for a world leader—[i]they wouldn’t be wrong[/i]. As Preston passed, he was donning a freshly-pressed black suit and tie with a silk and gold undershirt and black waistcoat. The suits behind him began to close the path. Two stayed behind to watch the vehicles, while the rest followed behind him in two files. His white coat swayed to his confident swagger, his arms having a natural narcissistic swing, showing off the fancy Meteor watch on his wrist and black diamond and rose gold rings on his middle and ring fingers. Two suits opened the door to the dormitory lobby as Preston passed through, crossing the floor that seemed to echo with the numerous steps of him and his men. The dormitory manager was busy at a computer in a small office behind a glass window. She was a small woman with shoulder-length gray hair. She wore a tacky ([i]are my thoughts escaping me?[/i]) pink strawberry shirt with black tear drops knitted into it that represented watermelon seeds more than strawberry seeds. Or…was it a watermelon shirt? Whatever. Ugly shirt, blue jeans, and tan boat shoes. She resembled a grandmother that crawled out of the clearance rack at Forever 21 and was probably some hired contractor, but Preston had encountered this woman every year, and he played the same old game with her. Preston stopped at the counter, glancing down at the visitor’s log and instead of using the pen that was already lying across a sign-in roster, he reached into his inner coat pocket to remove a black leather pen case. Popping it open, he removed one of his own slick black pens and filled out his name in an intricate calligraphy. Raising his head, his brows crashed together over his shades, and he turned an ear over his shoulder as he asked his escorts: [color=c71585]“What time is it?”[/color] The question seemed preposterous since he could have simply glanced at his own watch, but… “9:05,” one of his men responded. He didn’t have to. As soon as Preston finished signing in, the dorm manager happened to glance over her shoulder and she sighed in exasperation when she saw Preston and his sycophants crowding her window. Really, he resembled a mafia boss with all of his father’s goons. The short older woman, after rolling her eyes, smiled and rose from her chair to approach the counter. “Welcome back Mr. McTavish. I don’t owe you any money, do I?” the dorm manager joked. [color=c71585]“Not this time, Ms. Duval,”[/color] he replied, going along with the joke. [color=c71585]“I want to know what sort of asylum they have me assigned to this year.”[/color] Ms. Duval arched a brow and fanned a dismissive hand at him. “Oh come on dear, they’re not that bad. One moment.” The little woman returned to her computer and after a few clicks here and there was glancing over a spreadsheet. “You are assigned to room 4-K.” [color=c71585]“Are you certain? Because if there’s another Preston McTavish, I would rather get a hotel room this year,”[/color] Preston asked. “Hm…” Ms. Duval pretended to look over the spreadsheet. “Nope. It’s you, Preston James McTavish and your roommate-” [color=c71585]“Beg your pardon?”[/color] “I said your roommate-” [color=c71585]“Pardon?”[/color] Ms. Duval turned in her chair to give Preston a plain, narrow-eyed stare. Even with his eyes obscured by his dark shades, she could see the horror and anger on his face. His jaw tightened as he tried to resist the nasty words that hammered at his lips. [color=c71585]“Since when do I have a roommate? I haven’t had a roommate since gods know when.”[/color] He was suddenly having flashbacks. Oh gods…his roommate back then had been so morbidly obese. It might have been an exaggeration but a fat ass was a fat ass. There was no gray in Preston’s psychology. And he had smelled! No matter how many times that fat bastard had showered, he still stank. Recalling that nightmare had caused his heart to race and he rested his hands upon the cool countertop for he felt them becoming anxious. He just wanted to throw the visitor log across the room. Was Olympus Academy trying to fuck with him on his last year? “His name is Peter McMillian,” Ms Duval revealed. [color=c71585]“Who the bloody hell is that? I’ve been here for seven years, and I’ve never heard of this bloke.”[/color] Preston brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pinched it briefly before removing his shades to reveal his mineral blue eyes. He sighed heavily in exasperation and as though he was short of breath. [color=c71585]“I need to sit down.”[/color] The suits stepped aside as Preston walked over to the lounge area and took a seat in one of the leather chairs. He spread his arms over the armrests, the leg of his sunglasses pinched between his index finger and thumb. He eased his head back on the back of the chair and just closed his eyes as he tried to push aside all of his fears. [color=c71585][i]This is a bloody demigod school. How do fat demigods even exist?[/i][/color] [color=c71585][i]I want to kill myself.[/i][/color] (he’s muttering to himself) Nervously, the suits made a motion toward him and Preston opened his eyes to give them a shrewd glare. [color=c71585]“Back it up. Do you really think I would kill myself? My reputation is above dying like a cunt just because some fat dirty bastard could be my roommate.”[/color] (He was forever scarred) Sitting forward in his chair, his elbows rested above his knees and his hands came together as he leaned over and closed his eyes. He was just about calm and ready. [color=c71585]“Right…well, let’s just get this wonderful year over with,”[/color] he grumbled facetiously. Rising from his chair, he walked over to one of his escorts and removed his rings, watch, and coat. He handed each of the items to his men. [color=c71585]“I won’t be needing these. If I’m going to be living like a tramp, then I might as well look like one.”[/color] Ms. Duval shook her head at the young man. He was certainly being over-dramatic. Preston returned to the counter and reached into his pants pocket to remove his wallet and ID card so that the dorm manager could reprogram it with his new room code. Olympus Academy could not screw him any harder than that. He was actually starting to feel good about the whole thing. It was making him stronger. He was giving less and less fucks every year. When Ms. Duval handed the card back to him, she tried to comfort, “Everything will be all right, dear. Just try to have a good year.” [color=c71585]“Right.”[/color] Preston faced his escorts and pointed at each of the gentlemen he commanded (without using his powers mind you), [color=c71585]“You three will get my things. The rest of you will follow me upstairs. The room’s probably sprinkled in roach shite. We got some cleaning and unpacking to do before that gods-awful assembly.”[/color] After dishing out those commands, Preston headed for the lift with the remaining five escorts.