<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>exploring the school.<br/><strong>Time:</strong>First Day, Afternoon<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jonathan, Natsume, Ryuuj (m), Megumi (m), Shizuma (m), Open<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Boots, Dusty blue jeans, Army Field Jacket, Field Cap, Aviator Goggles, black Foothills brewery t-shirt, Packed Army duffel over his shoulder.<br/><strong>Note:</strong>Wandering.<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Ben tentatively braved the nearly riotous mob that was the infamous Denai<em>Club Rush</em>. If he had thought the hustling, and bustling was loud before, being just on the periphery was nearly disorientating as he watched recruiters simply grab students by the arm, pack, or whatever bodily appendage they could before dragging them, some kicking and screaming, over to a perspective booth to be scouted. Biscuit wasn't sure if this was socially accepted behavior in Japan, in the US he he was sure this would be considered Assault.<br/><br/>Tentatively, he entered into the fracas on his way towards the Gym, and the Dorms beyond. Though with everyone in school uniforms, it made his oil, and greased stained clothing stand out all the more. Rubbing his nose produced a smudge of anti-seize, the herpes of the lubricant world, just above his lip. "<em>Well, guessin' ah need ta git across.</em>Biscuit muttered in english as he began to thread his way through the mob of students with some difficulty . To which it was understandable considering not only his bulk, but the fact that he was carrying a fully laden army duffel over his shoulder. More than once he had to apologize for bumping into a girl, or guy. Some of the girls giving him suspicious glance as it was not uncommon for boys to try and sneak a feel using a crowded venue as an excuse. So Biscuit took to holding the strap on his duffel with both hands in plain sight to prevent any accusations. He just started his crossing, and was already feeling quite fatigued.<br/><br/>As he threaded, and weaved his way through the throng of chaotic movement, he would look around to the various club. Many having huge signs with symbols of their club. Some with soccer balls, some with a baseball, and bat. There were some with Pictures of Books, or Cooking utensils. So many different types of clubs, much more than Biscuit could have imagined, and certainly much more than what was at his own school back in South Carolina. As he approached the center, he stopped to take a quick breather, and make sure he was still heading in the right direction as he did take several jarring bumps that had him staggering in an awkward Manner.<br/><br/>As he panned the sea of heads, his height allowing him to see over the vast majority with the rare one, or two being able to obstruct his view. It would be then that he noticed a young woman with dark hair pulling her hair back into a high pony tail. He really didn't think much of it at first, that was until another approached her that was definitely not Japanese. Ben's focused his vision upon the young man, he looked American. Or at least English. He appeared uneasy as he was speaking to the young girl, and directing her to a nearby desk with two people, both women, and Ryuuji from the look of things. Perhaps it may behoove Biscuit to say hi. It would be nice to have another person from teh states around.<br/><br/>So working his way carefully through the crowd of uniform wearing students, once more making him stand out like the proverbial sore thumb. Biscuit approached Jonathan, and Natsume. "Um...Howdy!" He called out to the two in English. Turning to Natsume, Biscuit gave her a smile and waved. "Kanba...er..." He started to say before he stopped himself. Remembering the mistake he made when Greeting Ryuuji. He had to take a moment to remember the proper greeting. "Konichiwa!" He replied though there was a questioning tone at the end as if he wasn't sure if that was the right word or not.