Marc was whistling absently as he approached the front door, a jazz tune that he had stuck in his head from his Pandora station at work. He was a music student in high school, and had learned to whistle rather well, though his singing voice left something to be desired.<br/><br/>It was strange that he considered this place home, considering the lack of time he'd spent in it. He had moved his boxes in the night before, slept for a few hours, then gotten up to head off to his marketing job. He wouldn't start his next round of being a T.A. for a lazy advertising professor until the term started up again, so he was picking up extra hours where they'd let him. He had so many ideas and projects that the firm could take advantage of, but all he was doing now was editing copy and playing tech support for men who made ten times what he did, probably with similar degrees from lesser schools, but with awesome family connections.<br/><br/>When he opened the door, he was instantly aware of multiple voices.<br/><br/><em>Oh yeah, my roommates.</em>He thought to himself. It was not an unpleasant thought, he had almost always had roommates and gotten along with them, but these were new, and he had not met them yet despite already sharing a house with them.<br/><br/>He closed the door behind him slowly, suddenly unsure if he wanted to intrude on the gathering they seemed to be having. He was still felt a little odd not having made introductions yet, and he felt like everyone else must already be bosom buddies compared to him. He told himself to stop thinking like that, just because some of his roommates would be students and he was University staff didn't mean they'd chase him off with torches and pitchforks...on day 1.<br/><br/>He hung up his coat on a rack near the door, but it slipped off and in his attempt to catch it, the rack itself almost fell. Petrified of being caught knocking everyone's coats to the ground, he wrapped his arms around it, keeping the coats as they were (except his own, which crumpled at his feet and almost tripped him, but he was willing to sacrifice that) and re-stabilizing the rack.<br/><br/>All of this did not go without creating some commotion, and when he saw the thick-set man with the beard peering at him, he gave a 'whoops' smile and picked his coat off the floor and carried it with him, not wanting to risk it again, seeing as his coat apparently didn't get along with all the others.<em>Hope that's not an omen</em>he thought to himself, despite his best attempt not to.<br/><br/>Finally, he introduced himself to the man that had seen him clumsily enter, walking toward him, holding his coat. "Unless this is my intervention...." He started, flashing a warm smile to Mike, "my name's Marc, and it's nice to finally get to meet you." Mark shook Mike's hand.<br/><br/>"If this IS my intervention," he continued, "then my name is Pedro, and I'll be off to church." He hoped he hadn't single handedly marked himself as the odd guy, or worse. After hearing a decent portion of his roommates would be students, he wondered how being a T.A. would affect his standing with them. He certainly didn't feel like a T.A., neither by age nor social graces. He felt like a student still, especially when surrounded by them. He was well liked by those he 'taught', he had mercy, humor, and real-world-insight, everything an honest student needed. Those who tried to troll him learned quickly that he wasn't to be fucked with though, he had a sharp tongue for jerks. Marc introduced himself to anyone near Mike who wasn't mid-conversation. When it came to his attention that they were all drinking and hanging out, he politely excused himself to Mike and said he'd go grab a drink.  On his way to the kitchen, he tossed his coat on the back of an high-back chair in front of the counter, not giving two cares if it got wrinkled.<br/><br/>Anyone he passed or met between the entryway and the kitchen, he took the time to introduce himself to anyone he saw, shaking hands or giving low-fives and fist bumps if that seemed like where they were going with it.<br/><br/>"You bought Whiskey!?" He smiled. "Home sweet home." He poured himself a triple on the rocks and took a sip, smiling.<br/><br/>When he began to make his way back towards the living room to sit down, he saw the note explaining the nights festivities.<br/><br/>His jaw was agape. "Truth or Dare as an Icebreaker?" He said, astounded. "Where was this house when I was an undergrad?" He realized he'd said it aloud, but it didn't matter, he meant it.<br/><br/>"Unless someone wants to take this note away from me and eat it to destroy the evidence..." He said, feigning to keep it away from anyone that'd try. "I'm game."<br/><br/>He said it to anyone who'd care to listen. Marc was a bit of a ham by nature, but more than that he had a desire to fit in that didn't match the exterior body language and expressions that suggested he didn't care what anyone thought.<br/><br/>His mind reeled with the possibilities of the night. Even if the game didn't live up to his less-than-innocent imagination, (his imagination was especially so with with the looks of some of the girls who seemed to be joining them), it would hopefully endear himself to a house of people he had been worried would alienate him for being on the wrong side of the classroom.<br/><br/>