[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/21o8tg4.png[/img][/center]

[color 33ec06][center][h3]Homeroom[/h3][/center]
[center]An Autobiography by Marcus Howell[/center][/color]
[hr]

Marcus stood bleary-eyed at attention, having been rudely awoken by what he assumed to be standard operating procedure here. His shirt and pants remained wrinkled, a testament to his ability to sleep in everyday-wear, and a bigger testament to his lack of worry over appearances. If they were waking him up this early, they’d get over him being slightly disheveled. It’s not like he wasn’t [i]usually[/i] somewhat disheveled. 

He looked around the room a little bit, yawning and trying to get his bearings. School was in session, if the desks were anything to go by. The man who leaned at the desk seemed friendly enough; and the slight glimmer of white that Marcus’ eyes caught meant that he was a peer at least. A peer in the sense that he at least knew what they were going through. He sat in his seat, fiddling with one of the pencils on his desk as the man spoke.

He watched with child-like fascination as a woman came walking in through, with many guards behind her carrying boxes. He watched with slightly more fascination as he received a large box, apparently containing a laptop, and a phone, which was-

“[color 33ec06]Chestnut.[/color]” Marcus said in tandem with the lady, nodding and grinning slightly. Someone who could take a joke at least. His grin shone warmly, only pausing with curiosity when she leaned in towards him. 

[color=f7976a]"We've delivered your message and she's definitely received it. Since you have a phone now, why don't you try calling her in your own time?"[/color]

He stared as she slipped him a small piece of paper, viewing the number that was written down on it. His heart skipped a beat as he gratefully accepted it, looking to the woman’s eyes and uttering a small “[color 33ec06]Thank you. M-ma’am.[/color]” His grin returned as his extra funds were denied, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “[color 33ec06]Never know unless you try![/color]”

The rest of the requisition filling was uneventful for Marcus, he craned his neck to try and see what everyone else received. He silently mused to himself, happy that he hadn’t asked for much and didn’t have too many boxes to worry about. There were a few things that caught his ear: the first and foremost being…

“[color f7976a]Pets![/color]”

Marcus’ attention was immediately diverted to the three animal carriers that were brought into the room. Two cats…and a dog. A small dog, but a dog nonetheless. He doubted anybody was looking at him, which was fortunate because he tensed up ever so-slightly, his grin faltering. God, he hated the little creatures. Luckily this one seemed to be going straight to…Siena.

[b][i]Betrayal[/i][/b]

This could be slight problem, he reasoned to himself, trying to calm his breathing down ever so slightly from the more than slight problem he was faced with. A dog. Why did it have to be a dog? Of all the things she could have requested; a cat, a hamster…even a snake or something.

Marcus tried to forcibly tear his attention away from the small crate as the woman addressed Cal. A mischievous smile crossed her face; a smile that he, as a fellow mischief maker, recognized as nothing good. He looked forward to seeing what else this lady had done.

Finally, he mentally slapped himself for not requesting a firearm of some sort. He’d been caught off guard the first time, and probably would have spent the entire battle hiding behind a truck had there not been a spare. A pistol or something would have been nice; he made a mental note to request one later.

The rest of the requisitions and the classes went by without incident. His mind raced, mentally going over the numbers that were written on the slip in his hand. She’d gotten his message at least; and he had a viable communication relay with her. It had been a while since they’d last spoken; there’d be quite a bit to catch up on.