Regardless of where he was Niall was a southern boy, especially when it came to his breakfast. He needed at least six pieces of bacon, several pieces of sausage (all beef perferably), a good 4 eggs, scrambled of course, and last but not least biscuits smothered in gravy. He had to say that the school cooks were nearly as good as his mother but not quite. Emmelia Collins was a cook to be reckoned with, especially her breakfasts. He missed his momma's waffles and sausage. As it was Niall sat easily at one of the small tables outside the little cafe that was on campus that he came to for breakfast, sometimes he would sneak home to eat breakfast with his mother but today was not one of those days.
His strong angled jaw was covered in scruff now, having forgotten to shave this morning when he got up. He would have to shave around lunch or by supper he would have a beard well under way. He was nearly too big for the small table he sat at, his legs stretched well across to the other side as he leaned back, slouching in the chair just as his father hated to see him do. His father got onto all of his boys about slouching, he always had some speech about how it made you look weak. Niall's father was charming and wonderful to be around but he was tough, very tough. Niall took quite a bit of the brunt of the tough love his father dished out, he could still remember the first time his father had made him fight the Beta. Niall had been nothing but a tall lanky pup then and he had taken a beating. That was the last time anyone ever beat Niall in a fight. Now he was tall and a bear of a young wolf. His father was quite pleased with the way Niall had turned out if his letter were any indication. The man was so old it wasn't even funny, he didn't use a cell phone and if you were too far away to howl for he wrote you a letter, licked the envelope, stamped it, and sent it in the mail then proceeded to wait impatiently for a reply. Those replies often came in the form of a phone call on his mother's cell phone much to her amusement.
Sipping his sweet tea and enjoying the flavor Niall crossed his legs under the table bumping the top of it, "
Sweet Moon, they need taller tables." He growled as he looked crossly at the table, his eye brows furrowed. Even as large and masculine as he was it still hurt when you whacked the shit out of your knee cap on a metal table. That was one thing Niall had always hated was hitting his elbows or his knees on things. However, there was absolutely nothing worse than getting hit in the shin, especially when one ran into the hitch on a truck. Moon almighty, he cringed mentally at the thought grateful then that he had only whacked his knee and not whacked his shin.
He was surrounded by chirping birds and sitting directly beneath a large mimosa tree. Some people further North called it a silk tree but his Auntie Natalia had one and it would forever be a mimosa tree to him. It's shimmering pink blossoms reminded him of home so much, he sat here nearly every morning even if he only had an orange juice to drink or some lemonade. That was another thing he missed about home when he was here, his little sisters always made lemonade during the hot days of Summer. Louisiana got so hot during the summer with the humidity it made folks wish that they were anywhere but there. He wouldn't trade it for the world though. He ran a hand through his hair before he took a swig of his orange juice and unfurled a letter from his father. It had been inside the package that was laying on the table in front of him and it contained a set of throwing knives and a few other things along with a book his father had thought that he would like. Despite being a complete bad ass Niall's father loved all of his children and wanted them the be well educated and well rounded individuals. Each of them had their own hobbies as well as being able to fight with any number of weapons. It was something he had instilled early on in all of them, that they would be killed for their rank and they needed to be able to defend themselves and win fights.
