Come 'round, come 'round -open-

[Darryl Bond]

The man looked across his room. It had obviously been used for storage the last semester, or thirty, because of the amount of shit from wall to wall. He had experimentally popped open one of the white office boxes and seen blobs of cloth. He didn't want to touch it, because who knew what it was. After five more opened boxes he started to get it. They were costumes. Of what, he did not care in the slightest. It was annoying that no one had bothered to keep up with the room, and since arriving a week ago, he had not had time to even look inside his new headquarters.

He'd been up since four trying to make enough room for his class, and even after lunch, there was just piles and piles of crap. The shaggy looking man kicked the box aside and it crashed against the wall. He looked out the dusty and slightly filthy window and exhaled. That exhale sent his bangs up in the air and back down his face, which caused him to scratch at it. The slightly large silver class ring on his index finger nearly poked him in the eye from the action but he paid the costly thing no mind. He straightened his white button down and fixed the rolled up sleeves so they rested just in the crook of his elbow.

His black pants were streaked with dust from lugging that bunch of crap around, so he spent a good minute groping at his legs and butt to get all of the brown particles off. After he deemed himself decent to look at again, he went to the white board and wrote in his nearly illegible curly text;

Mr. Bond
Dramatic Arts: Theater

[/font][/center]

He placed the cap back on the marker, but kept it in his hand. He went over to the door and opened it, he maneuvered a wedge made out of some type of wood and stuck it underneath the door and pushed with his show until the door stayed open. He nodded his head at it and then looked about in the hallways. He would be kidding himself if he thought he wasn't nervous. He was. He was very nervous indeed. "Lot of good that will do." He grumbled to himself, he turned from the door and sat behind his desk, which was mercifully the only thing really clean in the entire room. He placed his boot clad feet on top of said desk with his fingers laced behind his head, his Comedy and Tragedy tattoo stared out across the room with its hollow eyes and Darryl drifted off into his own mind.

However, when the bell rang, he jerked. It was time! Class was starting! Even though he was keyed up, he didn't let it seep into his face. His eyes were bright and friendly, but his smile remained stoic.[/justify][/blockquote]

[Samuel Rixon]

When Sam had signed up for drama this semester, he’d been under the impression he could act like an idiot, and earn dead easy credits. After all, who took classes like that seriously? ... Granted, he took nothing seriously. Least of all his classes. In his mind, serious was when his little pot stash grew to dangerously low levels, or he was coming close to a Keep Vincent’s Fat Mouth Shut payment. Class? Far from important. His grades were dangerously low. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was so miserably pathetic with controlling his power, he’d chalk his lack of graduating to that. He just couldn’t be bothered to make the effort in class. He was better at coming up with witty answers to questions in class, rather than the right answers.

But hell. Drama was all about acting like an idiot, right? Well, maybe not for the professional, stuck up actors. But for high school? Oh yeah. It had to be all about acting ridiculous, and taking absolutely nothing seriously. Permission to act like a moron? Sam was almost guaranteed to pass this class, regardless of who taught it.

Of everything his parents had taught him, first impressions stuck in his head. Of course, they weren’t always good. The first time he’d run into Vincent had been something of a fuck up. He’d been outside on the grounds, and had accidently set a bush on fire. All of a sudden, a goth boy was beside him, fascinated with the flames, and begging Sam to light him on fire. ... That had been a weird one. But it had worked out just fine. He and Vin were more or less the best of friends now. Except when they were trying to kill each other. Or blackmailing one another. ... Really. The best of friends.

But first impressions were important. So, for that reason, Sam was clean today. In every sense of the word. He hadn’t smoked (that would be tonight, to unwind), and he’d actually had a shower that morning. He even had clean clothes. (Because Ember had done the laundry.) Was he trying to be something he wasn’t? Hell no. He was just... at the top of his game.

Except for the fact that he was so totally running late. Because his history teacher had wanted a word with him. It was the same old story. ‘Straighten up and fly right, blah blah blah.’ He’d tuned out halfway through. It was a wonder he hadn’t headed to his dorm for a quick hit to survive the rest of the day. But he hadn’t. He’d just bolted through the hallways and skidded into the drama room.

He’d never actually met the drama teacher before. So when he saw the man leaning back by the desk, he smirked. Cool. He kinda looked like a pirate. “... You our teacher? Y’kinda look like a pirate.” Oh. Ideas. “Hey! Are you like... one of them ‘failed actors’? One of those ‘I didn’t make it, guess I’ll teach’ guys? ... Can you do a pirate voice?” ... Actually, it was shocking, after that came out of his mouth, that he wasn’t high. So much for a good first impression.

[Zachary LaRousse]

It would be lying to say that Zac wasn’t shaken by everything that’s happened to him lately. He’s silently standing across the institute halls, trying to absorb the events that had just transpired. First, he was suddenly moved from a co-ed dorm to an all-male dorm because of him suddenly losing control of his ability and lashing out on his roommates. This means he was somehow stripped of the security he already has. Also, the move means he had to adjust to a new set of roommates. While being with males isn’t that bad (at least he doesn’t have to worry about being naked in the room), he was roomed with the notorious Jesse Adams and the sleepyhead Horus Richmond. Not exactly a walk in the park. He tried to stay up all night just to keep their filthy hands off him. This resulted to him being so tired and weary, having less sleep than usual, making him late for class. And when he did arrive in class, he was greeted with a blinding flash of light, the moron squad being themselves and a frustrated new professor. The only good thing that happened to him is that his new teacher told him he’ll let Zac pass for now and dismissed the class immediately.

“Bah. I don’t feel so well today. I feel like I’m breaking a cold or something. This isn’t good,” he told himself, slowly walking across the halls. His mind’s still a mess, trying to piece things out together. He’s even thinking of simply skipping the rest of his classes, as his mind isn’t in the right condition to study anyway. “A good night’s rest would do me good,” he yawned, “and since my roommies would have had their classes right now too, I can sleep peacefully without thinking about anything.”

He pondered on the thought for a bit before resolving to attend class still. Sure Zac wasn’t the best student there is, but he wasn’t the worse either. Today was the first day of class, might as well show up to be known, as cutting class wasn’t exactly the greatest first impression. After today, he can skip all he wants, he told himself, trying to comfort his weary psyche.

He took out his schedule for a bit too look for his next room. “Drama class huh? I do hope this’ll be a lot better than my history class,” he mumbled, returning the piece of paper to his backpack’s pocket. He wasn’t really a fan of theater, always thinking of some lame excuse when his dad forced him to come when he was young, so he couldn’t really remember signing in voluntarily. “Cedric,” he grumbled, remembering his caretaker who somehow took it to himself to plan Zac’s educational path. While it benefited Zac in the sense that he doesn’t have to think about what subjects he’s gonna take to be eligible for his probable post-high school course, Cedric frequently comes back at him by signing him up for weird electives. Just last school year he was at cooking. And the year before that in bird-watching. The only thing he enjoyed was his first ever elective, fashion design.

“This may prove to be useful,” he told himself, trying to build the self confidence he lost way back when he started taking on weird electives. “I could be discovered by a talent agent someday. I have the looks already, I only need to train my talents,” he laughed, rubbing his chin in obvious vanity. While he need not the money nor fame that might come from acting (he clearly had more than his fair share of those two), he thought being a well-known actor might make him closer to the models and stars, not that he wasn’t close to them now. “Who knows,” he laughed, “I might even get me a Tisdale or a Lovato.”

His mind now filled with eager anticipation of what he could get from his drama class, he opened the door with much glee and even gave his teacher a bright smile. “Hello, Mr. err-Bond?” he said quite hesitantly, glancing at the whiteboard. “Err, I am reading your writing right, right?” he asked, “Mr. Bond? Like the 007 agent Mr. James Bond Bond?” He looked at Darryl with much amusement and confusion.

He was about to sit down when he saw a familiar figure, one he just saw a few moments back in history class. “Wait Samuel,” he said, forcing himself to use his full name to better deliver the impact of annoyance and irritation, “you’re in this class too? No!” He slumped to his seat, dejected. “I wonder what other classes we have together,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes in frustration.

[Devin Sykes]

Devin was running late. A somewhat unscheduled change into her more canine form between classes was never all that productive. She'd managed to change back, luckily, but it meant she had to run up to the dorms to get a change of clothes - much as any males in the vicinity might appreciate her turning up in torn-up threads, she wouldn't.

Still, drama class! It would hopefully be interesting, and she liked poetry and music so it wouldn't be that much of a leap to get into another one of the arts, would it?
The best part, though, the best part of all was that she hadn't yet met the drama teacher, and as far as Devin was concerned, new teachers were a godsend. Teachers who would not hold her actions of the past couple of years against her.
...Unless somebody had warned them about her. She could only hope that wasn't the case. She was really trying this time, she was back on the rails, no more crazy antics.
Mostly.
Plus something like Drama, it was all about crazy antics, right? Surely it would get some of that out of her system? Wouldn't it?
A girl can dream anyway.

Thankfully most of her teenage years included a daily morning run, so she wasn't even breathless when she reached the classroom, taking a deep breath and stepping inside as casually as she could.

"I'm not late, am I? Am I late? I didn't mean to be late, I just had to rush back to the dorm, power thing, sorry." ... so much for casual.

Oh and Zac was here, great. Urge for sarcasm rising...
"Hey Zaccy boy." she grinned, well, it was really more a smirk.

So she wasn't making such a great impression in her first drama class, was she? Oh well, at least she was here at all.

[Darryl Bond]

Darryl was on the edge of his seat, remembering his own first day in this drama class, just over a decade ago. (god, I'm old) He had been a freshmen and misplaced into an all-senior class. He had to straighten up in class or he'd get ripped to threads by those guys, and some of them did take it seriously back then. Of course, he fell in love with it immediately and never went to the office to change out of it, like the teacher suggested. He fit right in after the first couple of weeks.

However, he went back into his mind, in his cluttered classroom, and sighed deeply. People just didn't take it as seriously from then...well at least not in the meta community. He cleared his throat for his wandering thoughts and as his first student came in, he immediately labeled him as the clown. He wasn't let down or proven otherwise by the words that then came out of the boy's mouth. Darryl's mouth pressed into a flat line, an unimpressed look crossed his face. "I did not fail, I'll have you know. I took time off to repay the place that made my career possible, and I will not talk like a pirate!" Yet. There might just be a reason for him to, maybe as a demonstration, but he certainly wouldn't do it now. His eyes narrowed faintly at the kid and he wondered what other sort of mischief he'd bring.

He looked up when another boy walked in, revealing the name of the first one to be Samuel. He probably went by Sam, because the guy looked lazy laid back, so the second boy was probably an acquaintance. He looked at the boy with a slightly amused grin, his hands folded on top of his desk, as he was tempted to play off on the Bond a little, but he wanted to establish his Teacher/student respect standard....thingy. He couldnt' be their friend until after he made sure they respected his authority, right? "No relation, I can assure you." Darryl responded with a wry grin. "But yes, I'm Mr. Bond."

His attention was drawn away from both boys as a girl walked into his classroom, immediately asking if she was late. He glanced at the clock on the wall to see she was a little early for the second bell. He leaned back casually in his seat. "You aren't late at all, have a seat. I'll start the spiel after the bell rings." He directed it to all of them. Please, all of you just sit down. He prayed they'd follow his directions.

(-lays head down beneath the guillotine- I am sorry this has taken me so long. I don't really have an excuse...)

[Ariana Simone]

Late. She was always running late, especially on the first day of classes. Dashing down the hall with her bag under her arm, Ari pushed her way through the now thinning crowd, praying she’d get there on time. Theatre was her favorite class and she’d hate to be late for that class. Trig had held her up a bit when the teacher had held her back a few minutes for being a bit sassy during class. It wasn’t her fault his toupee was on crooked! Swearing under her breath, she swerved around a corner, nearly tripping as she skidded against the linoleum. Stupid shoes with no traction!

The last minute bell rang overhead. ”Shit.” She picked up her pace, finally making it to the drama department. Cutting by a few other late classmen, she found the room listed on her schedule and pushed the door open. ”Sorry I’m late, Mr. Howard, Trig…” She halted mid-sentence, blinkingly owlishly at the other occupants in the room. ”Oops.” She forgot. Mr. Howard had retired last year, much to her dismay. No, the new drama teacher sat at the head of the room, a roguish figure that vaguely reminded her of someone she may have seen before. Pulling her fedora down over her eyes to hide her embarrassment, she found herself a seat, glancing around at her other classmates.

She could already tell this year would be interesting. Unlike most of the other teens her age, Ariana took drama seriously. This was the career path she had chosen, and she was dead set on making it onto Broadway or some big movie production someday. Glancing at the sandy-haired boy with his goofed up grin and lazy demeanor, she could already smell the trouble wafting from him a mile away. He was bound to screw things up in here. The other guy didn’t look to bad, but he did look like he had some bad blood with Mr. Lazy. After looking at him closer, she recognized Zac and smiled. Oh, class with him would be fun. The girl though, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of her quite yet. There would always be time to watch, wait, and listen later. Now, she had to make sure the teacher didn’t think she was a screw-up.

Turning her eyes to the board, she flashed Darryl a sweet smile. ”I’m sorry for being late, Mr. Bond. I was kept late after Trig today. I hope I didn’t miss anything important?” She quirked a brow, leaning her chin on her palm as she tipped her hat back a bit so she could see better. She didn't want to miss anything.

[/justify]

(Is this still going? I hope it is.)

[Samuel Rixon]

Straighten up and fly right? Not a chance. The Hammel teachers had been trying to get one Sammy Rixon to straighten up and fly right since day one. Not that it worked. He still sat in the back of the class and doodled. He shouted obscene answers. He routinely set fire to things, most of the time unintentionally. If Darryl expected him to behave, he was already fighting a losing battle. Sorry, Mr. Bond.

Clown was a bit of a misjudgement. Sam wasn’t exactly a clown. Just an idiot. He didn’t do what he did for applause, or for the amusement of his classmates. It was more for his own kicks. (Or as a cover, as he really didn’t know the answer most of the time.) He hadn’t, however, expected to make... well... an enemy out of his teacher so fast. He could see his body language told the tale. He wasn’t happy. And that didn’t make Sammy happy. At all. He liked it when his teachers liked him. Then again, in his mind, liking was equivalent to ‘not hating.’ And it looked like he was failing that. “Aww, I’m sorry man! Didn’t mean t’ insult ya!” Please note, 90% of what Sam says isn’t filtered in any way, shape, or form. The remaining 10% goes through a leaky, holey filter that really need replacing.

His apologies, however, were interrupted. By a certain student he wasn’t all that fond of. Horus’s roommate, and his classmate. As soon as his name was said, he glanced back and glared at him. “Oh fuck no. Not you again!” He groaned and felt the need to cross the room, to be as far away from Zac as possible. “Fuckin’ hate you,” he muttered to himself. “An’ don’t call me Samuel!” If there was anything he disliked, it was that.

The girls caught his attention next. First Devin, then Ariana. HA. So he wasn’t all that late. Not if the three others trailed in after him. As for the directions, well... he didn’t really want to sit down. But in an effort to vaguely cooperate, he grabbed a chair and tries to keep as much space between himself and the self proclaimed Hammel Prince.

[Zachary LaRousse]

Zac couldn’t hide the surprised look on his face. It seems his charms have no effect on his new instructor. He shot down Zac’s supposedly witty remark with such a (sarcastic) grin, an expression Zac’s all too familiar with. He doesn’t know why, but receiving that expression from an instructor feels more uncomfortable than getting one from, say Devin or Ari. And the more Zac observed his new instructor, the more unpleasant he became. Despite his seemingly lax appearance, he had an air of authority around him; his gaze, his posture, his grin – they were all unsettling, making Zac shift in his seat slightly every so often. It seems Zac has finally found his match.

“Really? What a shame. I didn’t expect Bond to be such a common name,” Zac said, putting his pack on his side and leaning forward a bit in a playful manner. “Don’t worry Mr. Bond, I can keep a secret.” He gave Mr. Bond a wink, then a puppy smile. It seems he needs to step his game up with Mr. Bond here. No way was he going to submit to Mr. Bond that easily. Unless he had mind control capabilities, Zac would just keep on trying to take the upper hand in this class.

He quickly turned when he heard Samuel speak. He was never fond of Samuel and his gang even before, and nothing’s going to change now. Even if he’s roommates with Sam’s trusted Horus and he’s with him in at least two classes. “That’s ok Sam-mu-el, the feeling’s mutual,” he said, irritated as ever. “And if you don’t know what that means, it means I hate you too.” He was actually pleased that Sam did the honors of moving across the room. He actually loves his place in the room already and if someone was to give in to solve their argument, it surely won’t be him.

“Had trouble shifting back from whatever gruesome creature you can shift into Devin?” Zac replied. Despite the few years they’ve spent together in the school, he still has no idea what Devin’s shifter form is. Not that he cares anyway. “And good day to you too, DeeDee.” Nobody calls him Zachie in front of others, and by nobody he means nobody.

“Oh great, the drama geek’s in this class too. Why am I not surprised?” Zac muttered to himself. So there’s Samuel, DeeDee and Ari-geek. And the vague Mr. Bond. This is gonna be one heck of a drama class.

[Devin Sykes]

At least she wasn't the latest, and it seemed that with people like Samuel and Zac in the class, Mr. Bond was going to have his hands more than full enough to waste his time dealing with ever so slightly tardy shapeshifters.
Speaking of dealing with Zac...

Damn, couldn't deny he was right because she had just said she was having a power problem, and even though ignoring it would probably just let him know he'd won that round, she also didn't want to start one of their little 'fights' in the middle of class, so she just gave him the most disparaging look she could manage and sat down as far away from him as possible.