Mandatory and Willing
Aug 18, 2012 20:49:57 GMT -5
Post by Vincent Meian on Aug 18, 2012 20:49:57 GMT -5
It often surprised Vincent how much interaction had to be made between people when they moved to a new area. Boundaries needed to be defined, rules needed to be set, comparisons needed to be made.
Comparisons? No, that wasn't the right word...
"Compromises," he muttered to himself. That was the word. Compromises.
Tilting his face into the sunshine, Vincent closed his eyes and enjoyed it. The gentle breeze, the smell of warm grass and metal, the warmth of unfiltered light on his tan skin... it was enough to make him relax, understand why he'd worked so hard to come here. It was different than the cities of Japan; no traffic noise, no insane crowds of people, clean air. It was relaxing and comforting, no doubt about that.
He could worry less about his girls. He didn't need to worry about his wife's career. By the stars, he didn't have to worry about his own life. He could just... let the world be.
But, first things first. Opening his eyes, the tall man adjusted his sunglasses and walked into the brick building, the shade instantly cooling his sun-warmed clothes. He dressed as he normally did; a black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, faded black jeans (specially imported from the US - he was too tall for any store to carry his size), and black athletic shoes tightly laced. His hands tucked into his pockets, the thumbs resting in his belt loops against the deep red leather of his belt. His hair was tied back, bangs and random wisps escaping the binding ponytail, and his face had set into its neutral expression.
Glancing briefly at a pair of students hurrying by, Vincent continued his walk down the halls, taking in each and every door and committing it to memory. He'd have to walk these corridors a dozen more times before he could remember them all, but for now he had a decent idea of where he was going. He even made his way to the staff offices without getting lost. Talk about first time Luke.
Luke? No... "luck". That was it. Despite learning English over the last four years, he still mixed things up occasionally. Cassi was much better at these things than he, and Appoline... well, his daughters learned better than he did, let's just say.
He passed a door and stopped, turning to look at it once more in vague amusement. "Vincent Meian" the sign by the door stated meekly, beneath that "Trainer". He was surprised they'd have an office ready for him already, especially since he shared one with twenty others back in Japan. A faint, low chuckle rose from deep in his throat, and he shook his head. How interesting it would be to work in such a school where all the teachers had their own offices. It almost seemed too privet.
Or, was that the word? He shook his head again. No, not quite right. What was it?
Oh well. It wasn't worth it. He was late anyway. Turning from the office, Vincent continued walking until he found the door he was looking for. The sign beside it claimed the occupant as "Dr. Sean Neville". This was the place.
Raising his left hand from his pocket, the Japanese teacher rapped sharply on the door's frame, the silver band on his finger glinting in the institutional lighting.
Comparisons? No, that wasn't the right word...
"Compromises," he muttered to himself. That was the word. Compromises.
Tilting his face into the sunshine, Vincent closed his eyes and enjoyed it. The gentle breeze, the smell of warm grass and metal, the warmth of unfiltered light on his tan skin... it was enough to make him relax, understand why he'd worked so hard to come here. It was different than the cities of Japan; no traffic noise, no insane crowds of people, clean air. It was relaxing and comforting, no doubt about that.
He could worry less about his girls. He didn't need to worry about his wife's career. By the stars, he didn't have to worry about his own life. He could just... let the world be.
But, first things first. Opening his eyes, the tall man adjusted his sunglasses and walked into the brick building, the shade instantly cooling his sun-warmed clothes. He dressed as he normally did; a black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, faded black jeans (specially imported from the US - he was too tall for any store to carry his size), and black athletic shoes tightly laced. His hands tucked into his pockets, the thumbs resting in his belt loops against the deep red leather of his belt. His hair was tied back, bangs and random wisps escaping the binding ponytail, and his face had set into its neutral expression.
Glancing briefly at a pair of students hurrying by, Vincent continued his walk down the halls, taking in each and every door and committing it to memory. He'd have to walk these corridors a dozen more times before he could remember them all, but for now he had a decent idea of where he was going. He even made his way to the staff offices without getting lost. Talk about first time Luke.
Luke? No... "luck". That was it. Despite learning English over the last four years, he still mixed things up occasionally. Cassi was much better at these things than he, and Appoline... well, his daughters learned better than he did, let's just say.
He passed a door and stopped, turning to look at it once more in vague amusement. "Vincent Meian" the sign by the door stated meekly, beneath that "Trainer". He was surprised they'd have an office ready for him already, especially since he shared one with twenty others back in Japan. A faint, low chuckle rose from deep in his throat, and he shook his head. How interesting it would be to work in such a school where all the teachers had their own offices. It almost seemed too privet.
Or, was that the word? He shook his head again. No, not quite right. What was it?
Oh well. It wasn't worth it. He was late anyway. Turning from the office, Vincent continued walking until he found the door he was looking for. The sign beside it claimed the occupant as "Dr. Sean Neville". This was the place.
Raising his left hand from his pocket, the Japanese teacher rapped sharply on the door's frame, the silver band on his finger glinting in the institutional lighting.
