<div class="floatleft">(http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/gundam/images/9/96/Biscuit_Griffon.png/revision/latest?cb=20150716060003)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Benjamin Stewart AKA: Biscuit<br/><strong>Location:</strong>School entrance -----> Parking lot<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Afternoon, First day<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Boots, Dusty blue jeans, Army Field Jacket, Field Cap, Aviator Goggles, black Foothills brewery t-shirt<br/><strong>Note:</strong>Running Late, looking for faculty office.<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>The warm afternoon sun shown down upon the land as the sound of an old Milwaukee Mill thrumming hung in the air. The exhaust note fading behind as a student was making his way towards the Denai academy after having to divert over 600 miles south to pick up one very special item that was dropped off at the wrong port, his beloved Motorcycle. Benjamin Rose Stewart, AKA Biscuit, deftly navigated his 1981 Harley-Davidson FLH (http://motorcyclesadsy.com/mwpics/1981-harley-davidson-flh-electraglide-classic-shovelhead-1.jpg) through the thinning traffic as he approached the outskirts of the city. Thank God! He thought traffic in, and around Charlotte was insane. He swore he had a couple of years shaved off his life from the plethora of near misses from Drivers that couldn't be bothered to concern themselves with anything outside their metal cocoons. His motorcycle wasn't much, and it still had a LOT of work needed before it could be considered "Show Ready", but it was Biscuit's pride, and his treasure.<br/><br/>Ahead a light changed to red, and Biscuit began to apply the front, and rear brakes as his hand pulled in the clutch. His foot pushing down on the "Toe" shifter. The Transmission shifting through the gears with an deep audible clunk until he reached First". The bike would idled lazily at the last red light before reaching the school, Ben holding in the clutch with the bike in first as he waited for it to cycle. It was a habit from when he first learned to ride as sometimes people behind him wouldn't see him until the last minute, and the time it would take to shift from Neutral to first could mean serious injury, or getting out of the way in time. From the intersection, he could see the School at the end of the street. Turning his head, Biscuit caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a store front window. He was relaxing in the saddle of his bike, his Dull green surplus Army Field Jacket (http://i.ebayimg.com/images/i/300402970895-0-1/s-l1000.jpg) zipped up with a pair of dusty blue jeans tucked into the top of a pair of brown wellington boots (http://dmeszqrvxc7wa.cloudfront.net/images/product/new/medium/10294201.jpg). On his head was a simple field cap turned backwards, and held in place by a pair of Aviator goggles (http://motociclo.com.au/sites/default/files/imagecache/product_full/mk_49_antique_brown.jpg). On his hands were worn old welding gloves (http://www.weldersupply.com/Content/files/ProductImages/1015.jpg). Truly he looked more like a vagabond with little to no money to his name. Biscuit would then glance back to the pillion pad where his clothes, and necessities were stowed in both of his saddlebags, and the old surplus army duffel bag that was lashed across the top. He let out a sigh of relief that everything was still there. The Light finally cycled to green, and Ben eased the clutch out as he twisted the throttle, the aged motorcycle trundling down the road tiredly as Ben picked up his feet and upon the floor boards.<br/><br/>Ben would guide the bike through the School's main gate, and steer it towards the parking lot. He hoped no one would get angry with him for parking without a pass like at his high school. He'll just have to see about one as soon as possible. Once in a parking space, Ben eased the bike onto its jiffystand, and shut off the motor, and the gas. The 80ci Shovelhead engine quickly started to pop, and ping as it began to cool as its rider unzipped his jacket, and pulled the goggles up. Benjamin would slide off the saddle, and lean back as he let the feeling return to both his butt, and his legs. "Oh, that feels good. I swear I lost feeling in my ass that last buck-twenty." he groaned, referring to the last hundred, and twenty miles of his journey. Ben would then walk around his bike stretching, and looking for anything that might have vibrated loose while he let the feeling finish getting back to his lower region. Once his inspection was done, and a couple of the screws tightened with the help of a Gerber mulitool, Biscuit patted the fuel tank. "Good girl. You did wonderfully today. I'll drop your fluids once I can get my hands on some oil." He promised before pulling off the bungee cords that held his duffel bag in place, and slinging it over his shoulder.<br/><br/>From the Parking lot, Benjamin started to make his way to what looked like the Main building. His heavy boots thumping as he walked across the sidewalk from the parking lot to the main causeway towards the building. He could see many other students milling about. Course it was understandable, school must be out. Benjamin let out a lamenting sigh as he completely missed the first day of school all cause the shipping company dropped his bike off at the wrong port. At least it arrived in Japan, so he was lucky in that regard he supposed. Hell, it could have ended up in Thailand, or Vietnam for all he knew. As Biscuit turned onto the main causeway, and started towards the building he looked at the student body he would be attending classes with. Obviously most, if not all were Japanese. That was a given, and the uniforms they were all wearing was making him stand out like a sore thumb. His size not helping matters in that regard either. As he approached the main entrance, Biscuit was acutely aware of the attention he was getting, and simply shrugged it off as he would probably gawk at one of them had they shown up to his high school with their uniform on.<br/><br/>Entering the main building, Biscuit saw rows, upon rows of small Lockers where Students put their shoes during the day, and wear their indoor shoes. Biscuit wasn't sure if he should find a "Open" locker or if there was something else for him to do. Either way, he had to get to the faculty office to check in. He pulled out his paperwork from one of the large pockets on his jacket, and looked around for any signs, or anyone that may be willing to point him to where the faculty office was.