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Post by Jean Tremblay on Nov 23, 2010 21:54:49 GMT -5
Learning, the teen had never been fond of it. Highschool, he was always the kid that showed up 20 minutes late because he didn’t want to leave his friend alone at smokers. Except he never had a friend, he just stayed there alone. Not that he cared, most people didn’t enjoy his company, and he kindly returned the favour. Most people had avoided him, he was rude, and manners were non existent. Not exactly best bud material. He respected his family, and he adored his brother, but other than that he refused to get close to any one else. And the fact that he stunk of tobacco probably kept people away as well, for even now, despite his location, a light cigarette was clamped in his mouth. If they told him to get rid of it, he would. But so far no one had even noticed him.
It made it easier on this ‘condition’ he apparently had. Every since he had discovered he had it, his only relation had been ruined. Though most didn’t approve of the relation any ways. But he didn’t care. He had never cared, and he never would. All he cared about right now was the sack of stuff slung over his back. He didn’t have much, just about a weeks worth of clothing and some bathroom essentials. The most important thing though was over his other shoulder. A rather massive bag, bearing the logo of the Montreal Canadiens. Inside the bag, it was likely painfully obvious what it was, was the massive padding required for a goalie. The large boxy leg pads and the blocker took up most of the space, and the helmet was wrapped in the #9 Canadiens jersey. Any idiot who asked him why 9 would likely get a stick to the face.
If anything overall, he had more hockey gear than actual clothing. It was amazing he even had the ability to carry his normal clothes with the giant bag on the other side. Not to mention the widened goalie specific stick, and the regular good old beater.
He didn’t seem to care that his bag was smacking against the wall as he walked, he just made his way to the room he had been assigned. “Tabernak…. Where zee ‘ell is it…” He grumbled and glanced at the room numbers, 104. Almost there, fine. Once the door was in sight, he didn’t even think of knocking, he could only just barely manage to get the door open with out dropping one of his bags. He could hear cheering not far along, maybe a party or something. Whatever it was, he didn’t give a rats ass. He figured he already had a roommate, since the door wasn’t even locked or anything. In his last school they always locked every door, students couldn’t go anywhere with out a teacher. It was hell. Glancing around the room he grumbled a bit. “’Ello?” Throwing the hockey bag down on the floor, with an extremely loud thud, he shook his head and huffed. “Chit…” His shoulder had cramped up after that. Rolling it a bit he grumbled, where the hell was his roommate?
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