[color=2e3192][b][h3]Theodore Levant[/h3][/b][/color]

Having been guided to the 101st floor by one of the receptionists in the lobby, Theodore was quite fine to surrender his belongings to the guards that searched him at the entrance. Truth be told, the only thing he kept on him that was truly a weapon was a knife, and that was more of a tool than anything. He usually fought using the environment around him, so being bereft of his knife was not the worst thing in the world. Of course, he wasn't planning on starting a fight here, unless it happened that the final exam was an all out brawl among those that had arrived. He imagined it was unlikely that the organisation that seemed so steeped in subtle trickery would set up a final test that was so purposelessly blunt. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure if it wouldn't turn out they were all already on trial and that they would all fail for not having seen the expertly hidden traps around the place. He had yet to even gain an inkling as to what was going on yet though, so he would refrain from acting on wild conspiracy theories.

As he took in his surroundings, Theodore noted they were in a rather extravagant restaurant setting. It actually reminded Theodore of home, which was probably why it irked him to be here. Places of extravagant wealth and swotty tastes were often havens for the same brand of fools he had suffered for a life long in Avingnon. He could only hope that the people here really did earn their place by virtue of their skills rather than paying their way to victory. In any case, he took a seat at one of the tables with a clear view of the stage. He wasn't sure what was in store for them, but he didn't want to sit back and relax here. In fact, he really didn't want to go speaking to random strangers here, though not out of shyness or anti-socialism; he was simply experiencing terrifying flashbacks to the gaudy parties of his youth. The last thing he wanted was to drink wine and make small talk, since it felt like half his life was being forced to do so.