[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=97e23b]Bartholomew Rosecliff[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://themortalinstrumentssource.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/alexpettyfer-e1302284711784.png?w=240[/img][/center][hr][hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Room 207 -> Outside room 107
[b]Skills:[/b]N/a[/center][hr]
	As Bart buried his face deeper into the pillow, he took a deep breath, and gave a long slow exhale into the fabric. He swallowed hard, and and flipped over, staring up at the ceiling. His face was red and puffy, feeling as frustrated as he was lost. He gave one last punch on to the bed, and then forced himself to exercise a modicum of self control. If there was ever a time not to freak out and keep emotions from running wild, it was now. Was he still upset? Scared? Hell yeah. But if he let that rule, he wouldn't get anywhere. 

	Two options seemed to occur to him. Either nothing's real any more, and everything he ever thought about the world was totally wrong, or he was batshit insane. Entertaining the second option, regardless of it's validity, wouldn't get him anywhere. If he was legitimately this crazy, he reasoned, there was no recovery. "[color=97e23b]Alright then, fuck it, why not?.[/color]" He said, exasperated. Nothing fucking [i]mattered[/i] any more if he couldn't trust his own perceptions, on the other hand, things still got to have meaning if he could.

	On that note, he decided to use his perceptions, and examine the room around him. Firstly, the messenger bag he knocked off his bed when he entered. He rolled around, back onto his stomach, and peered down at it. It seemed to be a nice, leather bag, something he'd never have bought for himself, but was certainly to his liking. He reached down, and brought it up to the bed, reorienting himself to be sitting cross legged on the bed. He quickly opened it, confirming it was empty. He gave it a quick pat, as something much, much more exciting crossed his eye. His face broke out into a grin, as he sprang to his feet, and rushed over to the cabinet across from the bed. He peered down at a neat stack of books, and grabbed one at random, peering down at a pristine copy of The Great Gatsby. He held it close to his chest, this was one of his absolute favorite books. He gripped it in both hands, and patted it neatly on the cover, before gently placing it back on the pile. 

	This made him so happy, books had always been a retreat for him in life, and having these with him would surely grant him days upon weeks of enjoyment. He'd have to organize this collection, but that wouldn't be hard at all, in fact, he'd probably enjoy doing it. He gave a quick glance back at the messenger bag, and put two and two together, his smiling managing to widen even more, even giving a slightly giddy laugh. It did confuse  and worry him, however, how exactly they knew so much about him, and what they knew about him. If they knew what he liked and loved so well, did they know what he despised?  What he feared? That didn't sit too well with him at all. Even if they gave him nice things, he needed to tread carefully.

	With this, he decided getting to know his new... housemates? That was a good word. He turned back to the door,left his room and, perhaps with the tiniest bit of trepidation, edged down the stairs. Making his way, he overheard a voice mention moving to the sitting room, wherever that it. He quietly tilted his head over to the hulk of man who suggested that, and the group forming around him. Bart felt a little awkward at the idea of joining them, but he had no idea where anything really was, and the man did seem to imply he was open to answering questions, which he was positively bubbling with. Alicia had given him a quick run down of what was where here, but he couldn't remember much of that. He tried to assimilate himself into the party, stepping off the last of the stairs, and, with a unsure look on his face, leaned against a wall, ready to follow them and see what he could find out.