[b]James Xiao
LOCATION: Main Building to Boys' Dorm
INTERACTING WITH: Stephen Rao [@tanderbolt][/b]

[hr]
What was even the point of Graystone’s ridiculously high tuition if they couldn’t fix one fucking bell system? 

James Xiao glowered out the window of the Physics classroom, internally complaining about many other aspects of Graystone Academy while completely ignoring the teacher’s spiel about, fuck, helium spectrums or something? Sure, James felt a bit shitty about doing so; Mr Bone seemed like a decent person (if not a bit eccentric) who actually gave a shit about his students, a trait that seemed almost non-existent these days. The smart students, anyway. But honestly, if anyone expected him to concentrate on literally anything with that obnoxious, loud-ass piece of crap blaring for hours on end, then it was really their own fault. His shitty attention span wasn’t going to miraculously cure itself as some Pavlovian response to that infernal ringing. And so, James kept glowering and complaining. Internally, of course. He didn’t need to get another detention so early in the school year.

As if a generous deity had heard James’ pleas, the class was let out early. He was the first out of the room, neglecting the teacher’s homework reminder in the process. The sooner he got away from that ruckus, the better. He didn’t need a headache to add to his shitty mood.

The ringing only seemed to box his ears even more as he walked through the hallway. Or maybe it was just the excited chatter of people anticipating the night’s main event. One idiot in particular seemed to be incredibly hyped, shouting something about queers and being there at Beaumont Cove. James frowned at the nature of the guy’s announcement.

[color=82ca9d]“Doesn’t even rhyme,”[/color] he muttered vacantly.

He couldn’t give less shits about the slur but if you were going to make a slogan, at least try to put some creative fucking effort into it. The salesman in question was a guy in a letterman jacket, one of the guys on James’ team in fact. Which meant that when the poor fellow accidentally bumped into the lacrosse ace in his fervor, he knew immediately to shut his loud mouth. James shot the bastard a smoldering glare for good measure and continued down the hall. That delinquent reputation, though not completely unjustly founded, had its perks after all. One less blaring nuisance to add to his soon-to-be headache.

His irritation was sated slightly by the sight of someone familiar in the dorm hallway. With a slight smile, James strode up to Stephen and ruffled his friend’s hair (Were they friends yet? Maybe close acquaintances?), as some strange, misguided attempt at a friendly greeting.

[color=82ca9d]“Kill it with fire, Steve,”[/color] the taller boy shouted over the din, referring to the bell, [color=82ca9d]“Or I’ll pull its fucking wires out myself.”[/color]