Dead silence.

Perhaps others might have become unnerved by the quiet, unbroken stare that came from the boy seated at the table. Percival was not. He rapped his fingers on the table for a moment, popped his tongue in his mouth, and gave his new companion another once-over. “Not much of a talker, aren’t ‘cha?” He opened his mouth to say more, apparently taking this as a sign that he could keep talking uninterrupted, when one of the professors took center stage and took the liberty to introduce herself. 

Professor Madison Lovette. Magical Theory. That was one face to a name, at least. Rolling his shoulders, Percival kicked his feet up and turned his attention back to his companion as soon as the announcement was over. Before he could try to speak again, the guy had started bowing and bobbing and such, introducing himself as Noah Zima and apologizing. Percival waved him off.

“It’s no problem. I mean, with a face like this,” he paused, struck a pose that was decidedly ridiculous, then went on, “I don’t think I’d be able to keep from staring, either.” He grinned broadly, running a hand through his hair and mussing it further. 

“It’s a Sterling-Norrevinter thing. It’s a tradition for them to try to smash each other’s heads in as soon as they spot each other. Council kids, eh? Buncha pricks, if you ask me.” His grin widened further, and he let out a peal of almost hyena-like laughter. 

“You know when they started? Wanna see how long the ol’ staff let them go at it before they got pulled off each other.” Important information. Could be the difference between an underground gambling ring and being put on dorm arrest for breathing. Not really, of course, but it was still knowledge Percival wanted his hands on.

Soon enough, the lights had been snapped off, Lovette once again taking a stand to go over the rules and dorm assignments and whatnot. Apparently his roommate would be a Mr. Toby Schippers. Schippers, like the one and only Spire Schippers. Percy’s eyes sparked with interest, and, as soon as they had been dismissed, he darted away to grab his keys before rushing back. 

You could say many things about Marchand, but “dull” hadn’t even scratched the list yet.  

[@Slendy]