His evening schedule was quite rushed today. It tended to happen this day every year, but today it felt even more rushed than usual.

Though Howl no longer had fencing practice, he still had plans after his classes. His recent plans consisted of doing some research. He had a few books he had borrowed from the city library opened and upon his desk he had a strange gemstone that seemed to almost glow faintly laying next to the picture frame upon his desk.

At one point, he glanced to the stone, but instead his eyes managed to locate the picture in the frame. It was perhaps one of the silliest pictures he had taken, but that had everything to do with Franz 2 years to the date.

"...has it really been two years since I took this bizarre photograph?" he mused aloud as he picked up the novelty frame in his hand to take a look at it.

Desustruction
Waylon's schedule was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It seemed all he did was sulk around his dorm room if he didn't need to be in class. He barely got out of his bed, bundled under the covers and letting his hair spill out over the side, completely unbraided and regrettably tangled up. The only sign of life was when one of his lanky arms would slither from under the blanket to drag his cellphone under his cloth cocoon before replacing it a few seconds later.

Howl was the last thing on his mind at that point. Not graduating because of his attitude had pretty much sapped Waylon of all his strength for the time needed. However, the changed the second his roommate stepped through the door.

What the hell is that?...

There was a painful nagging in the back of his head. Something telling him, almost guiding him towards the other side of the room. Seconds later, an intense glow just made it worse. Even when he closed his eyes it only seemed to get brighter. Waylon grumbled under the blanket, pawing around for his cell phone to answer whatever stupid thing his friend had sent him before he realized the phone was on the end table beside his bed. Curling up into a tighter ball under the covers, he lifted it just slightly so he could be heard.

"Cut that light off! It's bugging me!"


So the lump on the other bed finally decided to return to the land of the living. The teal-haired fellow barely glanced up from the photograph as a voice nagged him unnecessarily. Nothing in the room had really changed since he started his research. The lights in the room had been on, but that was due to the lack of windows in the room, so natural light was not an option.

The thought of the stone didn't even come to mind.

"Since you finally seem to be awake, I just want to inform you that I will be out with my mother this evening. I should be back before lights out, but you can sulk all you want during that time."

With a light sigh, he set the novelty picture frame down again, then delicately picked the strange stone up with his fingers, almost as if he was afraid that it would break. With his left hand, he pointed a finger over a photograph in one of the books, then held the stone close to the photograph.

"Mr. Cartier, as certain as I am that you would be thrilled to bits to assist me, I suspect it would require you to get out of bed. Might I ask if you could give me a second opinion on these two stones?"

Desustruction
Waylon groaned again. Howl was skirting around his rather clear demand. "I don' care about your Mom. Do what you wan'!" He rubbed his eyes, sitting up in the bed so he could give his back a good stretch. It was pretty clear that he hadn't done so in awhile from the resounding crack his spine made.

He muttered something about stupid roommates as he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed, flinging the blanket unceremoniously to the ground. "Gem? What gem?" The lack of caring in his voice was evident as he shuffled over to the desk, intent with just turning the light off. With his eyes still half closed and his vision blurred by sleep, he still didn't realize where the extremely bright glowing light was coming from. Though, it would have pretty normal to expect the light, it was the aura he was unfamiliar with. The constant nagging in the back of his head that something was close.

Reaching over Howl, and completely annoying his roommates protests, the light clicked off. Yet, still the glowing remained. "Good lord. How many lights do you need in-"

He stopped mid sentence, eyes intently staring at the gem so ordinarily displayed on Howl's desk. The lamp quickly switched back on to Waylon rubbing his eyes. Half in tiredness and half in shock. He leaned and inched ever closer, awkwardly close, to his roommate to get a better look. "Where did you get that star-...I mean, gem...?!"


"It is called being considerate, Mr. Cartier. Or rather, looking out for my best interests." There was a slight nod of his head as he couldn't help but think of how the Cajun could easily report him to faculty. It wasn't like Waylon would go out of his way to spite Howl, but the lad still wanted to ensure he was not going to be in any undesired trouble.

The light was turned out, but apparently that wasn't satisfactory enough. Apparently the source of his roommate's irritations was the gemstone between Howl's fingers. It was when Waylon edged closer that the younger of the pair edged away, as if to silently state 'please respect my personal space.' However, there was a strange look in the golden eyes fixated upon the little gemstone.

"It is an odd little stone, is it not?" The brief mention of a star did not go unnoticed, though the English lad did not comment on it. He was certain it was sleepy gibberish, and perhaps with the faint amount of light it gave off, it did seem like a star. With his free hand, he pointed to the picture in the book.

"I have been looking through these books for the past few days... I think this is the closest I have seen to a stone that resembles it." The finger tapped the image in the book again. "It is odd though that it glows like this though. I did not know gemstones could glow like this." Classically, Howl had yet again avoided the question which had been asked by his roommate. After all, would Waylon even believe that Howl had encountered a woman who went by General Painite?

Desustruction
"Yeah...odd..." It was the only thing he could get out without saying something like get rid of it or give me the stone and no one gets hurt. Seriously. How did Howl get that thing? Though he was normally a novice at anything but fighting and using his attack, Waylon was certain he could sense a senshi and, after the unfortunate encounter with a certain bow wielding nega, he would never forget that aura. Howl emanated neither a good nor bad aura. Then what was he feeling? The star seed seemed to get brighter as he leaned closer, only to his eyes as his roommate seemed unaware of the incessantly bright glowing. Uncomfortable from the close quarters but unaware.

It was a blessing really. The last thing the world needed was a civilian noticing that sort of thing. Waylon was sure of that. Or at least he would have been if he wasn't so fixated on it. When he finally realized how dull and interesting a stone should be to him, he cleared his throat and shrunk back from the desk, only leaning on his hands over the side.

"You'd be surprised what weird rocks can do. Throw that thing away. It migh' be radioactive or somethin'. I'm not dyin' from radiation poisonin' because you got curious about a stupid rock." Yes. Make it dangerous. Then, if Howl disposed of it, he could easily get it back. "Besides, that thin' is glowing something fierce. It's annoyin' even if it isn' dangerous!"


"Your concerns are sound." It wasn't like Howl could argue against any sort of farfetched theory about the origin of the stone's glow. So far there had been no logical explanation for it, and even some sort of vague radioactivity would have been an easy solution.

Yet, something felt out of place with such a simple, tangible explanation. Why would that man have had this on his person then if it was harmful?

Offering a soft smile, he turned to his roommate. "I do not believe I will be keeping this stone for too long in all honesty, so you do not need to worry about your health being affected." He had been tasked with the duty of giving it to a senshi. Those were pretty rare for him to find, so the only way to ensure he'd have the gemstone with him when a senshi appeared was to carry it with him all of the time. Closing his hand upon the stone, Howl then glanced at the time.

"Oh, more time passed than I thought!" His mother was going to be expecting him in the office in about 10 minutes! It wasn't as if he did not realize what he was doing. However, Waylon was his roommate, so it wasn't strange to do what the teal-haired boy began to do. Making his way to his dresser drawers, he tugged it open and pulled out a pair of slacks before beginning to change into them.

"I have to confess, I am not used to your hair being so unkempt. Perhaps if you clean yourself up slightly, you could go for a walk for a change of scenery?" Though walking to the Hillworth office wasn't really that much of a change in scenery.

Desustruction
Waylon glanced at the stone out of the corner of his eye. So Howl was leaving? Perfect. He'd definitely have a chance to at least text Iris about it. Never before had he been so happy to have upgraded to a camera-enabled smart phone. It was glorious for times like this. At this point, the teal haired teen couldn't leave fast enough.

He cleared his throat when Howl spoke, trying to seem like he had been listening intently to what his roommate had been saying even though it was rather apparent that his mind was elsewhere. "Good. It's probably not good for either of us..." Waylon grumbled to himself and ran a hand through his unruly locks...or at least tried. Every time his fingers tried to part the thin strands, a tangled curled around his fingers and refused to let go. His eyes narrow, pouting as he pulled the lock of hair closer to him, hugging it close to his body. "Yeah yeah. Whatever..." It was always appearances with this guy. "Why don' you go meet your Mommy then. Apparently I got brushin' to do..."


"I am certain if you did not spend 90% of your day in bed these days that your hair would be more manageable." It was a mere observation if anything. Having finished up with his slacks, he proceeded to move onto the next aspect of his outfit, the shirt. Howl went through his clothing before pulling out a pale blue button up shirt. Quickly he shed his uniform vest, then the undershirt before replacing it with the new shirt.

As he buttoned up the shirt, he couldn't help but wonder if his roommate would act kinder if he knew what the date was. People tended to change character slightly when they knew it was another person's birthday. Somehow Howl was not under the impression it would change his roommate all that drastically.

Though it seemed as if the Cajun had no plans to leave the room, Howl couldn't help but ask "Waylon, I am quite curious... do you speak French?" It was a strange question that seemed to come out of nowhere, but the younger of the pair did have a reason tucked away in his mind as to why he'd ask such a thing.

Desustruction
Before he could cut in with a it's my hair and I can do what I want he thought better of it. Like it or not, his hair was a travesty at this point. Feet shuffled along the floor as he reached the small table where his brush lay. Ignoring Howl for the moment, Waylon began the painstaking task of getting the tangles out of his hair. "Good lord this is goin' to take forever..." At this point, that was probably the understatement of the year.

Still, as he slowly made some progress, the glow was permeating the room. It was a good reminder of what exactly he had to do. All Howl needed to do was leave. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Howls' voice broke the silence. Of course, with his mind totally and utterly lost in thought, the only two words he heard were speak french?. Waylon turned towards his roommate, quirking an eyebrow at the notion. Speak French? Of course he spoke French. Hell, his first real word was French. "Um...Yes? Isn' that kinda obvious?..."


"I would rather not assume." Having tended to his shirt, he then located a black vest and put that over the shirt. There were some pockets at breast level on the inside, and before buttoning it up, he reached for the gemstone and set it in one of the pockets. It would be safer if it was kept on his person at all times. With that, he set to buttoning up his vest.

"The only reason I ask is because... Mother definitely prefers interacting with Europeans. Are you able to pull off more of a French accent than a Cajun one in normal conversation, Mr. Cartier?" Again, it seemed like a very strange question or request, but Howl knew what he was doing. He knew his mother quite well. His roommate would not stand a chance if he spoke as he normally did. He'd be subjected to his mother's scrutiny.

Finished up with all buttons on his outfit, Howl went to check on the final touches of his outfit. Since this was a social affair, he set to changing out his nearly invisible studs in the lobes of his ears for a set of dangling earrings. He was well practiced and didn't need a mirror for such a change. Soon to follow was the plastic stud upon his left nostril being replaced by a classier gold stud. He spared the clock a quick glance, seeing he only had about 2 minutes left. It took about one and a half minutes to get to the front office, so he quickly snatched up his favorite hair sticks and was already on his way to the door.

"...will you be coming along, Mr. Cartier?"

Desustruction
"Your mother prefers Europeans?..." He may have known some formal French but, if Howl's mother was such a stickler for perfection than he doubt his ramblings in cajun French were going to impress her any. Besides, he only really spoke it at home with his family. It was rare for his old pack of renegades to speak more than a few sentences of it every so often. "I can try. Formal French isn' my strong point as you can probably tell." Why did he even care? He doubted he'd ever see Howl again after he graduated let alone his mother. Still, keeping up appearances was something he would have to get good at...or so his anger counseling had taught him.

With his hair no where near tangle free, Waylon placed the brush on his bed-side table before fumbling through the closet for his winter coat. He was still in his pajamas after all. As he turned to go fetch one of his numerous hair bands, he gave Howl a rather accusing look. "Why do you even want me to meet your mother? Since when did we become friends?" The last few words came out as a jumbled mess as he tried to balance holding the bright yellow band in his teeth and pulling his impressive amount of hair loose from inside his jacket and into a high pony tail so it would look at least presentable.


Only once his roommate seemed to have his balance and all of his appearance issues taken care momentarily, Howl walked out of the room, Waylon following after him. To the accusation, Howl simply phrased it as "Not every person goes out of their way to meet just friends, Mr. Cartier. The world would be a very small place if that was the case." They easily made it down the hallway and towards the office.

"Mother has been curious as to who my roommate is. It is simple as that." It went unmentioned that the woman felt somewhat bad for the fact she had never met Franz before he had passed on. Perhaps this was her clumsy attempt at preventing such from happening at a future time, or perhaps it was more Howl's own consideration that wanted to prevent such awkwardness again.

Not that Howl was wishing anything such as death upon his roommate (no matter how aggravating the lad could be).

Once at the office, Howl opened the door and held it for his roommate to follow suit. It seemed that the office manager was being kept busy by a woman with long brunette hair. This woman looked well maintained when it came to appearance. Not a single hair seemed to be out of place. Her makeup was done splendidly. Any hints of age had been banished by the religious use of various creams and treatments for her skin. She honestly looked just under thirty, though that definitely was not the case. This woman was beautiful and looked almost as if she was ready to go to work in an office environment like the Hillworth office.

This woman was also Howl's mother. With a strange sort of ease, the lad walked up to the woman and politely offered a simple "I beg your pardon, Mother." He was interrupting a conversation, but as everyone knew at Hillworth, time was quite strict at this facility.

The woman turned to him and smiled in a lovely way, flashing those pearly teeth of hers in a well practiced manner. "Ah, there is the young man." Her accent was far more noticeable than her son's. Despite how polished Howl's appearance was, she was still a mother. The woman began to fuss slightly with the collar of Howl's shirt, making certain the creases were just perfect. "It is hard to believe my son is now considered an adult now." She leaned in and kissed the teal-haired boy upon the cheek before offering a less-than-subtle "Happy Birthday, Howl."

Clearing his throat slightly after the motherly affection, Howl gestured to his side to the less presentable Waylon. "Mother, I wanted to introduce you to my roommate before we left. Mother, this is Waylon Cartier." His eyes glanced to the Cajun for a brief moment. "Waylon, this is my mother, Anastasia Wickham."

Desustruction
He walked at a brisk pace behind Howl, like a tuckered out chihuahua desperately trying to keep up with it's master's long stride. Of course, Waylon would never see it that way. He was tired and out of shape after all. A week without a workout for him was like a week without water or food for someone else. His body had gotten used to the constant activity over the years.

The Hillworth certainly hadn't changed since he abandoned the world the second he ended up back in school. The people in the lobby were nothing special to look at but his eyes kept drifting to the woman who seemed so out of place on Hillworth grounds. She couldn't have been on staff. If someone was on staff he would surely know. He'd been through the office more times than he could count. There might as well have been a pay check waiting for him in the therapists office considering he spent more time there than half of the employees. His eyes widened a bit when the woman responded to 'mother.'

So this was Howl's mother? This impeccably dressed, perfectly made up and perfectly punctual, or so it would seem a t least, was Howl's mother. Yep. That made a lot of sense. Though now Waylon was quite certain of where Howl got his looks from. Even though he wanted to make fun of the boy for his mother's affectionate ways, there was an air of politeness surrounding him. Something Howl rarely saw at all except on formal occasions or when the tall boy was forced to wear a suit. He smiled politely, bowing his head ever so slightly to Mrs. Wickham. "Hello Mrs. Wickham. It's a pleasure to meet you." The lessons in formal French paid off...but barely. Just enough to show that he certainly could speak it but his first language it was not.


Anastasia offered her hand to shake, but in the my hands are obviously much cleaner than yours manner. It wasn't so much that she actually believed this to be a fact, but more along the lines of how she was adjusted to shaking hands. Once the boy took her hand, she offered politely "It is a pleasure, Mr. Cartier."

Howl let out a very faint sigh of relief. His mother hadn't outwardly scorned his roommate, which was a very good sign. Waylon would not know how lucky he was to make a reasonable impression upon the woman that Howl called his mother.

"I thank you, Mr. Cartier. As I mentioned earlier, I will be back before lights out this evening." With a nod, the young effeminate male took his mother by the arm like a young gentleman and began to escort the woman out of the office. As they departed, Mrs. Wickham easily inquired a bit more about her son's roommate. Once they were out the door, Howl easily replied "He is no Franz."

No, nobody would ever be like Franz. Ever.