[i]Tick. Tick. Tick. [/i]

 Flavie propped open the trunk of the taxi and rolled the most sugar coated concoction she'd ever put in her mouth. Tootsie roll? One of the two suitcases Flavie had brought with her from the objectively superior land of France was ticking incessantly, which was good because if they weren't there she would be a little miffed and freaked. Next to this suitcase was another suitcase and somehow shoved even farther away from the ticking case was a backpack. She threw the bag onto her shoulder. Much less easy to carry was the ticking suitcase, which she struggled to hold in one arm. The other suitcase was carried in the other, but before she began that task Flavie checked her watch. It was a cheap plastic affair with Mickey Mouse in the center, his arms the minute and hour hands. This wasn't her favorite watch, the way the hands were designed made it somewhat inaccurate and its design was possibly the most breakable object in history. Despite this, the character was endearing enough for her to bear with shoddy craftsmanship. 

She was starving, mostly because she refused to eat anything that came out of the food stands she saw in the airport. What was it called, a corn dog? Battered bread slobbered over meat grissle presumably taken from the worst parts of a pig. It made her sick thinking about it. Combined with the weather being chillier than the cold hearts of American politicians, she knew she needed to get in the building before her hands froze off. At least she was sensible enough to bring a tan tweed coat, sort of a cross between a jacket and a vest; thrown over her loose fitting shirt. 

The place was much more...quaint, than her city home and due to the lack of busyness she felt as if she were being watched. Which, to be fair, she was. New and carrying her life in her hands, it was obvious to anyone with half a brain and maybe those here who had a quarter of it. She wasn't sure how mutations worked. Badly? 

Her posture was obviously nervous and she made it a point not to look at anyone. Frankly, it was terrifying enough that she was surrounded by she-literally-had-no-idea and be in a new place and have to go to a speech and she'd rather love it if it could all just stop now and she could go home. 

[i] Dong. Dong.[/i]

Flavie jerked. None of her devices made that sound...oh. It was a grandfather clock. She checked her watch to make sure they were current and she was less than mollified to find that they didn't. Of course she was in another country and the time's hadn't bothered to be realign, so she managed to keep her composure and reset her device to Democracy Land time. 

 By the time she reached the rows upon rows of seats in the podium room it donned upon her that most others had managed to find some sort of pamphlet explaining the whats and hows and why's of this institution. She managed to grab a seat on the far edge of a row where she threw down her two suitcases and then bag in a sort of pyramid and threw her legs over onto them nervously.

The dead silence was all consuming and prevalent and horrible before the speech and after she could still hear the only sounds she had actually listened to.

[i]Tick. Tick. Tick.[/i]