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[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CVXQq230Hg[/youtube][hr][/center]
Gregory stands in the elevator, doors closing as he and his father exchange a silent conversation within a matter of moments. The two have already said what they've wanted, gotten all they felt was necessary off their chests, and as the door almost closes, they both flash a confident, albeit unknowing smile. A smile which will carry the two of them their separate ways, for the time being. 

The door shuts. Boxed in with a handful of other individuals, Gregory sighs and stares at the floor in silence, not entirely unlike some of those in the elevator. It's a slow ride to the upper level, oddly slow considering it was only the second floor, though he admits to himself it may just be his perception of the event due to his own circumstances. Eventually the doors open. Eventually he boards the plane. Eventually he's on his way to Montana. 

It's a new experience for the young man, having never left the country before in his life. He's heard so many things about life overseas from America, Japan, and the rest of the world it's almost exciting. Yet even if the prospects of a new leaf and a new life is exhilarating, it's also indefinitely saddening. After all, he was the person who almost killed a girl. He was running away from his problems, seeking a chance to escape before he was culled back in Australia. These nasty thoughts echo and claw at the back of Gregory's mind for awhile. However pretty soon all thoughts fade into bliss as he enters a dreamless sleep, mind attuned to the gentle hum of the aircraft and the soft beats of chill music from his headphones. Time ticks faster than it has the past year, for the next thing he knows, he's there. He's in Montana. 

Carry-on, luggage, money, taxi. The general order of things wasn't too far off what one would expect from an airport, though to Gregory it was a new experience, one that felt oddly fulfilling as he cherished his newfound independence. The afternoon sun beat down on the taxi gently, the new year providing less intense rays compared to Sydney, something he knew he'd have to learn to deal with quickly. That thought then went on to trigger another realisation:

Gregory was no longer in Sydney. He wasn't in Australia anymore. 

He wouldn't be bound to any sort of preconceived perceptions of him. He'd never been a part of an exchange, nor had he ever even moved schools. He'd always been a part of the same school, from Pre-Primary to Year 12. And he was always Gregory. 

Here, in America, in Farmer Hill, in Grand Ridge Academy, he could be anything he wanted. He could become someone else entirely. The possibility was certainly there, but as he thought about it in the back seat of the taxi, he shook his head almost instinctively. As his answer came to him, so did his reasons: He wasn't going to Farmer Hill to become someone else. He was going to Farmer Hill to become a better version of himself. To become smarter, to become kinder, to become stronger, and to become more connected with his mother, hopefully not forgotten among the people of Farmer Hill. He wasn't quite sure when he'd come clean about that. Maybe once he'd gotten to know the townsfolk a little better. 

The ride to town was a long one indeed. In fact it took all afternoon just to arrive there, and by the time the taxi stopped in front of the town hall, the moon was well into the sky. It had cost Gregory a small fortune just to get there, however thankfully his father had the forethought of covering any and all transport expenses to get there. One slightly unhappy Taxi driver later, and he was standing on the side of the road with all of his things in hand, with no real idea how to proceed. 

[color=plum][i]'Good one, dumb one. You're not getting into the dorms this bloody late.'[/i][/color]

His mind chastised the situation in good humour, before giving in to the curiosity found in this new location. For starters it wasn't anything like the city: The air felt somehow different, like you could smell the natural beauty in the place, and coupled with the lack of noise it felt rather serene and solitary. The lack of noise was due to the lack of people around, a direct contrast to the urban life in Sydney. He probably would've looked like a stunned tourist in anything else, however his flannel shirt and jeans made he himself feel like he fit in somehow. With a name like Farmer Hill you can't go wrong with a flannel shirt, or so Gregory surmised. 

Still without any real idea of where he should even go, Gregory approaches the town hall's entrance and checks the door to see if it's open, and if it is, walks inside. If not...

Well, shit. 

If it's closed for whatever reason, Gregory decides to have a little look around town. It'll be cold as all Hell, but the sooner he can find a place to stay, the better.