[center][h1][color=#FF69B4][u]ᴠᴇʀᴏɴɪᴄᴀ "ʀᴏɴɴɪᴇ" ᴍᴀʟᴄᴏʟᴍ[/u][/color]
[/h1][/center][hr][right][sub] Saturday, October [b]|[/b] The Ashford Institute for the Gifted[/sub][/right]
[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/17/72/7b/17727b1216777d1c0a20a13afe9ce1e6.jpg[/img][/center]

Ronnie exited swiftly the room.

She walked with poise and purpose, gliding down the hallway to observe the place. Mutant. For every normal person the word brought either fear and curiosity, occasionally indifference. Often only the ignorant were indifferent.

Deciding to judge the school's inhabitants with her own eyes, she glanced around.

What she found, surprised her. Ronnie didn't expect the school to be so... normal and bland. She itched her eyebrow as she continued her brisk pace down the halls. Students of all walks of life appeared locked in their daily routine. A few crowded by their rooms, laughing or locked in conversation. She managed to draw a glance or two causing her to slow to saunter, enjoying the admiration of her figure. Others traveled in small packs through the narrow hallways. The sight of them pulled at her cold heartstrings before she pushed it away.

She didn't need the distraction.

After a few twists and turns, Ronnie’s direction lead her toward the cafeteria. A place she could sit, eat, and finally determine her next move. Her phone vibrated causing Ronnie to slip it out of her back pocket. She frowned then scrolled through the texts. She rested on a caller id labeled Father, her expression softened briefly and her thumb tapped it open. Just when she began to read it, her body collided with a smaller body of flesh. Four inches shorter than herself. 

Ronnie stepped back as her fingers tightened around her phone, fixing it in her hand. Her teeth gritted and her mouth’s right corner curled up. She glared at the cause of the blockage. A bimbo with a dazed look found Ronnie’s wrath. 

[color=#FF69B4]“Excuse you? Walk much?”[/color] She snapped, placing her phone into her pocket.