<div class="floatleft">(http://i631.photobucket.com/albums/uu35/greytrail/Elliquiy%20avatars/Disney%20college/Phil1_zpsa01356f9.jpg)</div><strong>Name/True Identity</strong>: Phil Satyrios<br/><strong>Location</strong>: catacombs<br/><strong>Doing</strong>: interviewing<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Meg<br/><br/>Phil stored away the girl's combative questions as he took up his favorite spot in the halls where his bellow would amplify into nearly every corner of the facilities. It's like it was made for him.<br/><br/>"If you wear a uniform of this school, you better have your ass on that field and doing warmups before I have time to take a shit!"<br/><br/>Bellow complete, he kept half an ear out for the pitter-patter of student feet and turned his attention up to the brunette reporter. His voice was calm and cool, with a layer of ember-hot intensity below that was always hard to ignore.<br/><br/>"My yell is a tool. It covers distance and scares off the weak. And, frankly, young men don't respect a small man who can't intimidate them. Since I cannot and would not physically harm any of them, as I would lay my life down for the entire fucking boneheaded lot of them, I yell. A star athlete is precisely what people think they are, a combination of talent and hard work. There's no 'magic formula'," his contempt was scathing over that concept and it was clear. "No matter what the fuck some of my idiot contemporaries might say."<br/><br/>Fully looking the girl straight in the eye, Phil spoke again, his voice hard, but strangely empathetic. "Look, girlie, if you don't want to be here, don't be here. But Masters isn't stupid enough to send me someone I can bark at and she'll run off in tears. I like attitude, I appreciate attitude, but if yours doesn't have some focus, then working journalism is about about as useful to you as me being a Miss Manners. Now, interview me like you mean it, or go back to class."