Not too shabby. It wasn't in a horrible part of town and the building had a little charm to it. It was pale and the building itself was chipping, but he didn't need much out of outwardly appearances. He hadn't even met the guy he'd be rooming with, but he was probably harmless. He'd deal with problems as they came; right now he just really needed a place to live, and he needed it desperately.
Atticus picked up his first suitcase and headed up the stairs. He owned a surprising amount of clothing, but this was because he tried his best to dress gentlemanly. Young as he was, he didn't want to give an air of immaturity; he wanted his fellows to respect him. He glanced back at the moving truck's driver, who seemed content to sit in his seat, before moving out of his view.
He knocked on the door, banging his suitcase against the frame accidentally. Atticus growled and bent to set down his suitcase, then fixed his glasses, pressing the small, square frames closer to his face. He really needed to get his glasses fixed.
Atticus picked up his first suitcase and headed up the stairs. He owned a surprising amount of clothing, but this was because he tried his best to dress gentlemanly. Young as he was, he didn't want to give an air of immaturity; he wanted his fellows to respect him. He glanced back at the moving truck's driver, who seemed content to sit in his seat, before moving out of his view.
He knocked on the door, banging his suitcase against the frame accidentally. Atticus growled and bent to set down his suitcase, then fixed his glasses, pressing the small, square frames closer to his face. He really needed to get his glasses fixed.