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[sub][i]“There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion, even by the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.”[/i]

[b]Interaction:[/b] [@FunnyGuy]
[b]Location:[/b] Lounge.[/sub]

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[color=gray]He was glad to be away.
His parents hadn't been terribly bothered by the idea of him leaving or well-- his [i]father[/i] hadn't been terribly bothered by the idea of him leaving. It had been a relatively painless departure from one place to the other and he had arrived a bit earlier than necessary. It was weird, not being in Manhattan, but it wasn't bad and he figured he'd get used to the new sights and sounds with time. It wasn't quite like [i]home[/i] but home had never been quite like home either.

The first night or two had nearly sent him into a panic when he'd woke up to unfamiliar walls on each side but now he was easing into it. He didn't feel the same lingering alarm but he [i]did[/i] feel slightly out of place. He had never been terribly good with other people his age and now he was expected to collaborate with them, to work with them and befriend them. That all made him feel kind of [i]itchy[/i], kind of uncomfortable and very, very out of his element.

He had woke up that morning with a stinging sensation in the tips of his fingers, had tried not to focus on the blackened bits peeking out from the bandages on his hands. He had quickly changed into... nothing [i]too[/i] exciting, anyone who had run into him in the last few days would have quickly grown bored of his sense of style. Black hoodies, black jeans, black boots. Like clockwork, no deviation. Today was no different, he didn't bother brushing his hair.

He took to the halls, kept his head down, kept his pace even. People were not Devan's strong suit, he doubted that they'd ever be, but it was stupid to pretend that he wasn't sharing his space with them. He may not have [i]wanted[/i] to talk to them, really, but he knew that if he [i]didn't[/i] then he was dooming himself to both a quiet [i]and[/i] uncomfortable future. He made his way quite swiftly towards the lounge, boots flying over the floor with the quickened steps of a man on a mission.

Not that he really knew what the mission was.

By the time he got to the lounge, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sound of naked people desperately trying to survive the wilderness. [i]Maybe I don't actually want friends.[/i] He thought grimly but forced himself to raise a bandaged hand in greeting. He could hear the faint murmur of Casper before that abruptly stopped. 

"[b][color=003471]Uh. Hey.[/color][/b]" His words sounded uncharacteristically thick on his tongue. "[b][color=003471]Viktor, isn't it?[/color][/b]"

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