[h1][i][color=7ea7d8]Mason Crawford[/color][/i][/h1][sub][@Heathen][/sub][hr]

Mason flicked through the photographs, minding his own business. He didn't want to disturb the man he had intruded on. He wasn't particularly pleased with any of the stills he had taken; whilst they were lit beautifully, deepening the rich palette of colours, they were just a bit 'plain' for his liking. Nice photographs, but with little artistic merit in his eyes. He made a note that, next time he was on the boat, he should try again and pay attention to framing the shots more creatively. 

"So, you're a photographer?" a voice interrupted Mason's review of his work. It was the man he had sat beside, who was now looking at him with piercing blue eyes. Mason assumed he was some sort of model; he had the right bone structure, for sure. He admired the angles of his face for a brief second before realising that he hadn't answered the question.

"[color=7ea7d8]Well, I try...[/color]" he laughed, sheepishly, flicking his camera off and closing the screen. The boy continued to show interest in Mason's camera, and for a second he thought that he had met another creative individual. Alas, his table-mate soon admitted that he had little artistic talent. [i][color=7ea7d8]Perhaps he's just being modest...[/color][/i], Mason hoped to himself. He really felt that everyone was good at something creative. How else did they express themselves? "[color=7ea7d8]Yeah, I'm a bit of an arty-farty type,[/color]" Mason chuckled at the quintessentially British saying. It always reminded him of his grandma. "[color=7ea7d8]What do you do?[/color]" he asked politely, before sipping from his coffee.

"I'm Trevor." he introduced himself. [i][color=7ea7d8]Trevor?[/color][/i] Mason mused internally. [i][color=7ea7d8]What kind of a name is Trevor, for someone so young?[/color][/i] Mason then pondered whether this individual had some kind of power that allowed him to remain young forever. He scolded himself for making such assumptions; the guy didn't name himself, after all. "I work as a nurse assistant in the nurses office and I take college courses here.", Trevor added. Mason's jaw dropped slightly.

"[i][color=7ea7d8]Wow,[/color][/i]" he exclaimed, as he often did when words escaped him. He was always being sincere, but most of the time people misinterpreted it as forced hippyisms. "[color=7ea7d8]You must be pretty smart. My parents always wanted me to be a doctor...[/color]" Mason said, trailing off as his thoughts were consumed by those people who brought him into existence. His emotions regarding the matter were polarised; on the one hand, he knew that he had to pursue what made him happy, but on the other he still felt an immense guilt for disappointing them. He was academically average, a bit of a misfit, [i]gay[/i]... Mason was just thankful they never found out he was a metahuman. If his sexuality hadn't been the final nail in the coffin, his latest discovery certainly would have been.

He realised he'd been detached momentarily, and brought his attention back to the conversation. "[color=7ea7d8]Sorry![/color]", he said. "[color=7ea7d8]I'm Mason. I'm new here.[/color]" he cringed internally at the cliché that had fell from his mouth. "[color=7ea7d8]I only discovered I was, uh... Different... a week ago.[/color]" He took another sip of his coffee, but the mug was still half-full. A tonal bell sound signalled the beginning of a tanoy announcement that interrupted the conversation.

[indent][i]"WOULD ALL STUDENTS PLEASE PROCEED TO THE RECEPTION, IN ORDER TO BE ALLOCATED THEIR LIVING ARRANGEMENTS FOR THIS ACADEMIC YEAR. THANK YOU."[/i][/indent]

"[color=7ea7d8]I should go, I don't want to upset anyone on my first day![/color]" he joked. "[color=7ea7d8]It was nice meeting you, Trevor. If you still need to find out who you're living with, you're welcome to join me,[/color]" he said, slinging his camera over his shoulder as he began to stand from the table.