This school was as much of a goddamn minefield as Atlas ever was.
Up north, everyone in their year was generally connected by friendship, if not quite relationships for the most part. When you'd grown up through years of repeated hell weeks together, you grew comfortable with people in a way that Jericho couldn't be comfortable with the people here. The fabled boy-girl hoodie swap was as sacred a ritual as Bastion and Atlas had, and it extended to jackets, fleeces, and all other manner of second layers as necessary. Hedy Tritten once returned one of Bright's jackets with a goddamn t-shirt cannon through his bedroom window on the way to class, and Speer used to walk into class wearing enough female hoodies to cushion the bullet Jer constantly wanted to put through his heart. Even the Atlesian expat himself owned one of Princess' jackets, from some time or another when he was visiting the Gault manor one summer.
He had one of Rich's, too. With the white lion fur.
...
It was a birthday present.
From Bekah.
...
They'd been shooting pool down at the sports bar off Van Zandt, and there was a vent that led into Rich's closet in their loft, so Bekah had taken initiative and--
Anyway, Beacon. Minefield. Beryl Harken.
The Mistralian girl had helped out tirelessly with what tuning Jer could get done in ninety minutes. The time flew once they weren't locked in the workshop with Luke, Grat, and the others - when it was just Jer, his two hands, Beryl to hand him tools and ask an occasional question, and Duke Ellington for background noise. It was a good thing Beryl had her eyes on her Scroll now and again, or he might have missed half of this period on top of the class period he pissed away outside of class. For that, and for her assistance,
and to try and make up for being grouchy with her, he had faltered for a second to try and thank her genuinely.
She had repaid his gratitude, given in good faith, with a non-consensual hug.
He hadn't wanted a hug.
He only returned it for five seconds. He counted.
And only because she would never get the chance to do it again.
He believed that it was that distraction that had caused him to show up late to PE. Beryl had thrown off his timetable irreparably, and now the professor was going to ream him on his first day of--
...
Which one is the professor?The various denizens of the gym, all split up into pairs or small groups, looked to be freshman age with a couple of exceptions. There was no commanding presence in the gym like Coach Schultz in Atlas that screamed "it's time for drills." It didn't look like there was an office he could duck into. He might have been in the locker room, but if there were students in there, Jer thought that might be a little too sketchy for even Ozpin to overlook without some questions.
So who the hell is this guy? WHERE the hell...?Well, there was Luke, at least.
So he
was in the right place...
He was talking to a couple other students right now, and Jericho wasn't really in the mood for introductions after having his person assaulted by Beryl Harken's Affection Suplex, but bereft of other options Jer started to advance towards Luke and the other two students he was talking to, Gold Stripes jacket slung over one shoulder, chest holsters visible atop the remaining layer over his torso.
"Hey," he said curtly as a general greeting, though his intense amber eyes had stayed affixed to Luke.
"Is this class a free period or something?"
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