[center][abbr=#5349bb][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5224883][img]https://i.ibb.co/NtZJD9B/Untitled-1.png[/img][/url][/abbr][/center][center][color=#5349bb][b]Location:[/b][/color] Suite 204[/center]

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[color=#5349bb][b]”I’m [i]Mr[/i]. Fisher Halloway,”[/b][/color] he said, sliding into the back seat of the private car. [color=#5349bb][b]”Marble Heights Academy. They said we’re supposed to arrive at the [i]Oaklands Dorm Building[/i] or something?”[/b][/color] The boy leaned forward a bit, partly into the open window between the driver’s cab and the seating area. [color=#5349bb][b]”Uh...Do you know where that’s at?”[/b][/color]

[color=#ada9d4][b]”Of course, sir,”[/b][/color] the driver replied, somehow sounding tired of his passenger already. 

[color=#5349bb][b]“Yeah, right, obviously you would—I don’t, but you, well… You’re driving,”[/b][/color] Fisk supplied, awed at how stupid he sounded. A hand came up to run through his hair before he stopped, glanced at it, and dropped it back to his side. [color=#5349bb][b]“And I… I’m gonna sit down. Now.”[/b][/color]

[color=#ada9d4][b]“That would be for the best, Sir,”[/b][/color] the driver responded, already reaching for the switch to raise the screen between them.

Fisk watched it rise, slowly, and made a mental note to avoid antagonizing his new roommates as quickly as he’d evidently antagonized the chauffeur. Back in NYC, his friends found his occasional nervous ramblings to be almost endearing—but they’d had several years to find the [i]rest[/i] of Fisk endearing too. Marble Heights would afford him no such time. He took a deep breath, letting it settle in his lungs, and banished the nervousness to the shaking tips of his fingers.

He’d calmed considerably by the time they pulled up alongside the tall, ornate building Fisk would now be living in. He gawked out the window at it as the chauffeur walked around, opening the door and looking thoroughly unimpressed at the whole situation. The young Halloway climbed out of the car, readjusting the gray cardigan he was wearing overtop a plain black button-up. He turned toward the driver, hazel eyes trailing down to the rather obvious open palm. Glancing up at the man’s face, he saw a single raised eyebrow and that stagnant, unamused expression. 

He pulled out his wallet, teasing a fifty dollar bill out and holding it out toward the expectant chauffeur. After a second of stillness, he met the man’s eyes again only to watch the slow and deliberate glance down toward the single bill and back up, graying eyebrow inching incrementally higher. Fisk narrowed his eyes in bewilderment. [color=#5349bb][b]“I wasn’t [i]that[/i] bad.”[/b][/color]

With an exhaustive and belligerent sigh, the driver folded his hand around the bill, tipped his hat condescendingly, and retreated to the driver’s side of the car. Engine growling to life behind him, Fisk pushed his way into the massive building lobby muttering, [color=#5349bb][b]“Note to self: delete ‘cheap chauffeurs near me’ from my search history.”[/b][/color]

He really hoped that it was a matter of the chauffeur, at least. Fisk didn’t want to contemplate the possibility that it was a “San Francisco” thing, or a [i]him[/i] thing. Marble Heights Academy was an opportunity—he could make first impressions here, in a way he wasn’t able to back in New York City. Starting off by annoying everyone around him? Well, it wasn’t… ideal.  

He stepped into one of the elevators, pushing the button for the second floor and resisting the urge to hum or foot-tap through the brief ascent. He stepped into the hallway, still shooting glances toward the fine décor as he counted to the second door on the right—Suite 204, his new home for the foreseeable future. Or the next semester, at least. They were practically the same thing. 

Pushing the door open, he felt a spark of gratitude that his mother had insisted on sending all his things ahead this morning—and arranging the delivery personally. Given his own transportation, Fisk suspected he might’ve managed to lose all his luggage on the first day. And no doubt his mother would’ve called him a dumbass for it, too.   

Rightfully so, perhaps. 
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