[b]Gratia Mindaro - Survival Class[/b]

"[color=66cd00]So you're in charge,[/color]" said Gratia, her tone flat and clinical as she observed Estelle's movements.

The Mistralese girl had already settled into a desk near the front of the classroom, cloth satchel resting on the floor beside her. She quietly gnawed away at the choc-chip vanilla cupcake with strawberry icing that her unexpected newest teacher had provided them, tongue relishing in the sweetness of the confectionery. Having the elder Nuit in charge of Survival was a real fucking surprise, especially when she had only been a senior student a mere two weeks prior, but in hindsight, she should have expected the family of birdbrains to pull something unexplainable out of their arse. It probably ran in the blood. Fortunately, cooking skills didn't, because unlike the diarrhoea-inducing dogshit that Bianca's creations usually ended up as, the cupcake she was finishing off wasn't a) a plague-ridden crime against taste; and b) actually capable of passing a health inspection.

She was less sure of Estelle Nuit's teaching ability, but maybe she would be proven wrong. Gratia Mindaro wanted to do something of fucking substance this period, and if her former teammate's elder sister could provide that substance, than she could move on from the bullshit that was the monotony of Armoury. Even if she had been given more than sufficient time to complete her prototype headgear, the rest of the session had been as dry as an old hag's vagina. Nothing had fucking happened.

Gratia pushed the thoughts of Armoury to the back of her mind, leaning back comfortably against her chair. Her onyx gaze drifted around the room, resting for a mere moment on the cupcake sitting upon her neighbour's desk before they returned to their original goal: taking note of everyone else in the room. There were numerous students that she recognised, while some were still unknown to her. The teenage girl would take their measure later.

For now, they were of no import.