Kuram had hit a snag with his poetry teacher. This particular collection of literature was hard to see through, since the writer was overly, well, useless. While he understood the value of paying one's dues to eventually mine out enough points for a degree, Kuram hated compromising art and what he said on the subject. This level of passion had earned him high grades so far, but his attitude was loosing its charm, it seemed, as the overworked Mr. Graham was less and less interested in their after-class debates, and the fervent insistence Kuram brought to them.<br/><br/>The pretty, bothered expression on the already sought after boy was therefor deeper today, when he step out into the daylight that almost bleached his temple-forge spoiled skin paper white. Gray to white hair barely moved in the careful breeze, but still managed to cause some drama around his silver eyes. The Cleaver clan had been beautiful in their muted colors, when they were alive and recognized by the Scythe Syndicate. That subject paled the hatred he had for discussing redundant points of long dead poets.<br/><br/>His lips drew in something happier, though no less sardonic when he passed a table of would-be diligent student. It was both refreshing and enraging to see the Syndicate so healthy and active. With his leather-bound book clasped between his waist and his arm, hands in his pockets, Kuram turned to look down at the nigh-secret gathering. The clean looking brunette male was the first to take note, and made sure Kuram saw him eye him up and down.<br/><br/>"Yeah, it's almost like you'll have to get off your asses to do some work instead of studying your youth away." Kuram offered at the tail end of Klause's - his name was conveniently written on the back of his open notepad - ominous theorizing. It cause Klause to stand up, but Kuram wasn't so interested in comparing heights, and instead looked at the girl who seemed to have a lighter heart. In fact, she was a bit too pure for her position among these other high-skilled Scythes, properly jaded. It was a bonus that Krause was put-off by this.<br/><br/>"So, you're new." he noted and pulled his hand out fast enough to catch his book. He placed it on the table, over Klause's notes, and offered his hand to her. Klause had gone around the corner of the table to get closer to Kuram at the swift gesture, probably because it could have produced a weapon too. Kuram had to assume Klause fancied himself a leader of this quartet, then. It made it even more pressing to ignore him. "I'm Kuram Ekuroi. Do you like strawberry shortcake?"<br/><br/>In all black, Kuram set himself apart on such a bright day. His clothes were even a perfect contrast to his face and hair. She would see that half of his forehead lifted him that much higher above Klause, who was seething by his side. It was clear her friend wanted to stop this interaction, somehow, but hadn't been able to until it had reached introductory stages. "It is good to know there is new blood in the Syndicate, but I guess if you don't stay on your toes, you'll be old and dusty in no time, too." his smile was friendly, which would make it easier for her take his hand, and what he'd said as a joke.