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Howl Wickham had a new roommate.

This fact had been drilled into the teal-haired fellow's head. Apparently the new roommate, a Waylon Cartier, was a seasoned student of Hillworth who had left the area for a while and was now returning to the facility. It was beyond Howl's comprehension as to why anyone would return to this, but alas, that was the scenario.

The room had been closed up to keep prying eyes from peering in. The native to room 230 had been preparing the room, adjusting everything to suit his needs. It was strange, being on the other side of the scenario. Hadn't it only been about a year and a half that he had been on the other side of the door knocking, waiting for Franz to let him in?

Now Howl was the one waiting for the knock at the door. Wanting to draw his focus away from the door knob, he resumed folding his shirt.

The teal-haired fellow paused from the task he had at hand (folding yet another shirt). He glanced about the room and easily noted that he had accidentally managed to spread out much more than he normally would have. In a hurried manner, Howl attempted to move several of the shirts he had placed on the opposite bed before attending to the door.

With a shirt hanging over his elbow, he undid the latch at the door and opened it up for the roommate.

The moment the door opened, the stench of Pine'o'Cleen began to escape into the hallway. Howl had grown quite accustomed to the smell thanks to Franz's prior stay in the room, and with the presence of a new roommate, he couldn't help but try to clean up the dorm. Never mind the fact Howl had never really let the room get dirty in the first place.

Aside from the shirts that were spread out, the room itself seemed pretty standard. There were very few hints of self expression in the room, making it seem like any other dorm room at Hillworth. The walls were the same familiar shade of vomit green, and on the wall the usual Arial 12 point-by-point of the rules: CURFEW, announced one header. NEATNESS STANDARDS on the other. Along the side of the room that used to belong to his previous roommate was a schedule taped to the wall marked with day-glo markers.

Forcing a smile upon his lips in a manner that only seemed natural, the room's resident pulled the door back. "Ah, so you are Mr. Cartier?" There was a pause for him to thrust out his hand to take the other boy's. There just seemed to be something a bit off for Howl. His grip wasn't nearly as polite as usual. No, it was far more casual, almost friendly.

"I'm Howl. Call me Howl."

It was difficult to prevent his nose from crinkling up in disgust at the new scent that filled the room so quickly. An obvious sign that his new roommate was a smoker. And based off the stench, a rather heavy smoker at that. For a moment, his mind began to dwell over the idea of premature wrinkles, but he shook those ideas out of his head with a simple brush of his fingers through his hair.

"Do you have a preference to which sort of cleaning scent should be used in this room, Mr. Cartier?" There was an underlying message that some sort of scent would be needed to hide the stench of the smoke. For a moment, he stood there, merely observing the fact that this new lad had just assumed which bed would be his own. Carefully in a simple clean motion, Howl closed the door before approaching the bed that was not occupied. There were still a few shirts there.

"I apologize for the mess, but I was in the middle of moving my possessions. I will have your bed cleared off soon, and then you can relocate there."

Not ignoring Waylon's questions (and noting the blatantly American accent), Howl addressed the question. "I was admitted to this facility in September of 2009. I would say it is getting close to about one and a half years since I have joined Hillworth's program." Leaning over his remaining shirts upon his old bed, he began to stack the shirts up along his elbow.

"I do not believe much has changed... unless you consider how many students have dropped from the program due to unfortunate circumstances. If you need to refresh your memory, the rules are still posted on the wall."

It would seem there was going to be a point of conflict between the two lads. Howl was already mentally counting how many things he was in disagreement with the elder boy. He moved to the new dresser he was to use for his clothing, pulling out the drawer so smoothly that it didn't even seem to make a noise. Now that he had a place to put his clothing, he began to unload the shirts, folding them in a practiced manner before putting them away.

"It sounds like the only cleaning scent you approve of is base soap." It was a simple observation, though with the slight chuckle that followed, it was evident it was meant to be in jest.

His lips for a moment seemed tempted to frown at the mention of the year and a half being so long ago. In all honesty, Howl wished it had been longer. It was not because he enjoyed this torturous facility he was living in. No. If he had just a year longer, perhaps he would have had the chance to meet Franz's family. Perhaps this year, he could have visited them during the winter break. The corners of his lips twitched, but Howl fought the urge to frown and kept himself occupied with putting his clothing away.

Rather than give his new roommate a straight up answer in regards to the question, the teal haired figure looked to the dark haired lad. "Perhaps you should ask about the facility to see if you can find the correct answer?" There was a pause for a slight smile. "There are many intriguing theories out there."

Rather than address the comment that had been made in a manner which would be satisfactory, once more the teal-haired fellow seemed to respond in a manner that did not seem relevant to the current subject.

"Ah, my previous roommate would have appreciated the reference, Mr. Cartier. He was quite the fan of board games. Alas, I did not share the same passion as him for such things." He held up a rather elegant shirt in front of him before proceeding to fold it down to a satisfactory size for the drawer he was feeding.

"I am curious, what sorts of things do you like, Mr. Cartier? So far I have a strong sense of things you do not like, but I have heard very little in regards to things that are satisfactory to you." One way to distract someone from an uncomfortable topic is to try a simple redirect.



Mission "distract Waylon" was a complete success. The subject had very nicely gone away from Howl being the focus to the new roommate being the center of attention. From where he was currently working on tidying up, the teal haired fellow's head bobbed up and down in a polite manner, letting the other boy know he was listening. It was quite interesting to hear what this boy was interested in, and if it had not been for the case he had brought in with him, it would have been quite a surprise to think such a savage beast could be soothed by music. Waylon was not leaving the best impression thus far it would seem.

However, the impression seemed to be softening slightly. There was something about the shift in tone which seemed to intrigue Howl. He spoke with such passion, a more admirable quality than anything else he had observed in regards to this boy thus far.

"Ah, so your trumpet is a lovely girl, yes?" Howl closed the drawer he had just finished filling with clean shirts and proceeded to the next drawer. Pants and underwear were the next task at hand. "Just the way you speak about music is enough for a stranger to understand how dedicated you are. Might I ask how many years you have played your instrument?"



"I concur," the teal-haired lad mentioned as he folded more of his clothing and placed it into the new drawer. "Names of the fairer sex do flow off the tongue." He was not about to explain why he was of a similar mindset, but whenever he named his flowers, they were usually named after females. Waylon would possibly learn such things as time went on. Since Franz had passed, Howl had not replaced the potted plant he had in his room. He wanted to bring another plant in, but something in the back of his mind was telling him not to do it. It wasn't like the presence of the plant had doomed Franz to his fate, but something still felt wrong about replacing the plant now.

A pair of pants were folded crisply as the new student spoke a bit more about his own musical background. "Ah, so you went from a woodwind instrument to a brass instrument," he commented as casually as Howl would be caught speaking. "You are correct. My mother had me take classes as a child, but alas... I showed no talent for music." He smiled softly. "Mother is quite fond of musical talent." He put the artical of clothing into the drawer.

For a moment, he paused, then glanced to the lad. Aside from gathering his trumpet, it did not seem like the new company had any intent to move. However, Howl was not going to make an issue of such trivial things until after he finished cleaning up. The pile of clothing was disappearing quite quickly now. So the conversation continued along. "Do you have a particular genre of music you prefer?"



Picking up the last few pieces of clothing from the bed, Howl gestured to the bed. "I apologize for taking so long, but your bed is now available, Mr. Cartier." Somehow, the way the native to the room said it, it almost sounded like the employee of fancy hotel. He rounded the edge of the bed and returned to the dresser drawer.

"My hobbies that remain in this room are things which will never keep you awake at night. I am a member of the fencing team." Howl was technically the captain, but he felt the title was not earned in all honesty. "In the evenings I do practice my writing after I finish with my homework. I believe that approximately covers my interests in a satisfactory manner." With the final pair of pants folded, he pushed the drawer shut and turned to face Waylon once more. He did not say a word, but he crossed his arms silently in an effort to ask "When will you be moving from my bed?"



The teal-haired fellow walked up to his bed after his new roommate relocated to the other bed. Delicately, he straightened out the wrinkles from the standard issue sheets. "No, I would like to only write my essays one time, not multiple times. Just think of it like writing exercises." He smiled in Waylon's direction, but despite how sincere the smile seemed, it was not. Here, Howl had thought he had done Waylon a favor by taking Franz's prior bed. However, he was not about to explain this to the lad.

Having finished his piece for the evening, Howl resumed his work with tidying up the room while the other boy lay there. Most certainly, there would be more time this school year to learn more about Mr. Cartier. No need to rush what would inevitably happen.