American Saint (H.S)

A.S. 4: Faces

American Saint: 4

Gensa's Thoughts:

After my father left the office where he had been speaking with one of the administrators, I decide to look around the rest of the house. There was not much to grasp upon too, although the beauty of the white color scheme is elegant for its taste. I did not really care much for it. It did not appeal to me for the least.

The loud speakers above my head spoke precisely, indicating to gather into the dining hall for super. I settled down into a seat across a girl with similar features to my own. Her eyesight is slightly irregular but her hair shares identical strengths. "Hi," I speak to her from opposite ends of the circular table. She does not say anything to me, only tilts her head to the nearest side and questions my character before letting out a horrendous laughter.

Minutes pass slowly, until a couple of profound guards roughly push through the wooden frames of the first set of doors. Everyone's head turns to identify what is going about. The two men are holding onto a patient by the arms, guiding him over to the nearest choice of seating as they struggle to keep both their postures uplift. The patient they are attempting to seems strong, that is a given. His power coarsely reflects as they drag his position right. After they leave, everyone that was once looking at the scene, returns to their previous encounter.

The man that was struggling in their hold is one that I know of. The smile fades when he notices my presence walking towards his own. His electric green orbs give me an eye roll as I sit besides his heated touch. "Do you always get in trouble?" I ask him and he does not respond. Instead, he picks himself up from the couch and leaves the area to the opposing side of the room. I watch as he changes the direction of his hairline to the center of his face. The strands leaving his scalp in a tangled manner before falling back to the previous hold.

"Are you Gensa?" A blue eyed human comes in between my vision of Harolds' green eyes and the tape recorder he has his hands rapped around. "Yes," I respond to the tall male standing directly too close of me. "I am Louis." He smiles with a sweet form, gesturing for a hand shake. I do not give him one.

Blue eyes sighs to himself, muttering intensive use of words underneath his breath before taking Harolds' seat next to me on the couch. "I was assigned to be your partner, everyone new gets a buddy-"

"Great." I silence him with my own voice, still keeping my level of eye focus on Harolds' overwhelming figure. His hands move slowly as his left presses into the table, he uses his forefinger to pick up the idle piece of fruit on the plate, he looks up to the ceiling in thought and swallows the citrus cubed food.

The man besides me chuckles to himself quietly and taps my knee with his hand. "Do not waste your time." His voice enters my system and I look his way finally, discarding of Harold.

Louis' face is nicely structured to the jaw with the acceptable strands of facial hair off of the sides of his skin. The hair on his head is a soft colored brown with a tint of highlight added to the top. And the smile he gives off is small, featuring his pink lips. He holds me a sympathetic look and nods to the doorway. "I have to show you your room now please, before it gets dark." He says again and I stand to my feet, following him out the way. "What happens when it gets dark?" I ask, concluding his statement. "Bedtime."

Liar. "Right." I play along.

"So..." Louis speaks in the silence that fills the hall. "You like Harold?" He questions to me in search of the room he was told to be in.