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[color=f6c142]Location:[/color] Uncle Jack's -> School -> The Bleachers
[color=f6c142]Interacting with:[/color] No one
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[color=darkgray][b]A few days earlier...[/b][/color]

Connor had been in California for a whole two hours, and he officially hated it. First, his plane got stuck on the tarmac while they waited to get off at the gate, the beginning to a shitty day. Soon after that, Connor was forced to go toe to toe with a TSA agent, who seemed unable to locate his suitcase. It was a one of a kind, Louis Vuitton suitcase, beautifully embroidered, a gift from his mother, and these dumb asses had gone and lost it. After a heated argument and one too many threats to call someone much more important, they found Connor's bag. In Colorado. 

Luckily, the limo picked him up without a hitch, and once he'd taken his seat he quickly opened up the mini fridge that rested inside, hoping for something to drink. To his chagrin, his Uncle Jack had made sure the vehicle was completely dry. [color=f6c142][i]I'm going to die out here[/i][/color], Connor thought, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat, blocking out the chaos of his life for a few moments. 

After a rather lengthy drive, filled with stop and go traffic and way too much sun, Connor was dropped off in front of his uncle's large estate. Jackson Prince was an environmental lawyer, one who'd worked closely with rather wealthy benefactors, such as the Greens and the Helmsleys. He was loaded, not that Connor wasn't used to big money. He'd grown up around the political elite, money wasn't foreign to him at all. Hell, he came from money himself. Connor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, before strolling up to the front door and rapping firmly against the wood door.

Connor hadn't seen his uncle in many years, a family feud had kept his father from speaking to him for a good ten years, right up until last May. As Connor remembered him, he was a well put together young man, clean shaven and charming. The man who opened the door looked quite different. Clad in a silk bath robe, a stained t-shirt and boxers, Jackson Prince was a sight. His beard was scruffy, and flecked with pieces of food, and his hair was receding fast. He looked fed up with the world as a whole. [color=#f1f264][b]"Huh. Didn't think you'd actually show up,"[/b][/color] Jack said, turning around and retreating into his home, but leaving the door wide open, an implied invitation for Connor to follow.

Connor stepped into the threshold of the home, and looked around. It wasn't a total mess, in fact, it was almost nice. Marble floors and abstract statues, picturesque curtains and floral print rugs made the home look elegant, a stark contrast to the appearance of it's owner. [color=#f1f264][b]"Alright kid. Your room is upstairs, down the right hall, last door on the left. Your dad has told me that you aren't allowed to have girls up there, so no girls. While you're here, you're sober. You wanna get trashed, find somewhere else to live. Got it?"[/b][/color] Jack explained, his voice gruff and off putting. Connor nodded. [color=f6c142][b]"Hey man, you stay outta my way, I'll stay outta yours,"[/b][/color] he said, heading for the stairs. As he passed Jack, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. [color=#f1f264][b]"Don't fuck around Connor. Your parents might be easy to fool, but that's only cause they haven't ever looked at the bottle in a way that might offend the public eye. But me, I know every trick in the book,"[/b][/color] Jack said. Connor pulled away, glaring at Jack before heading up to his room to unpack. [color=f6c142][i]This is gonna be great.[/i][/color]

[color=darkgray][b]Present Day, after school[/b][/color]

High school sucked. Connor was sure of that and only that. He'd skipped most of his classes today, including homeroom, and was now seated on the bleachers,taking a drag off of a cigarette and watching the tryouts that were about to take place below. He could see the football team gearing up to decide who was the biggest meathead of them all, and the cheerleaders, seeing how much skin they could show off before someone saw. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The air was brisk and as he blew out the smoke from his cigarette he thought of home. It was snowing in New York right now, real true snow. In California, the best they had was a light dusting of frost in the morning. This place was like some climate bubble, free from the weather of the world. He hated it. Unfortunately, for the time being, he was stuck here. That called for another cigarette.