<div class="floatleft">(http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c195/TheOneTheOnlyTheShane/0000ryt3.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Erik Crowley<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Shadow<br/><strong>Dorm Assignment:</strong>Floor 2, Room 4<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Auditorium<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 2nd, early evening<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jean, Cassie, open<br/><hr/><br/><br/>His attention was drawn away from the two who seemed to have swooped in to check on him, when he heard Jean's announcement. For a moment, he seems mute; moreso because he had to think about what those words meant for a moment.  Make sure he wasn't jumping to a stupid conclusion. "Well, Jean, as long as you don't go beyond the 'do not enter' tape in my mind, I think we'll be fine." Yup, joking. But, he was being serious, too. If he found out she was digging too deeply, he'll get pretty angry.  He was open, sure, but there were quite a few skeletons that he prefer stay in the closet.<br/><br/>Charlie couldn't really be pet or touched in any way. It was just shadow; there was absolutely no substance to it. At least, not yet. Not here. He can't give substance to shadows in the presence of light. Maybe one of these days.<br/><br/>Cassie would be able to tell that he was pretty tense, particularly along his neck, and where his shoulders meet his neck.  While his headache was predominantly caused by how bright it was--even if most, looking through his glasses, would consider the world dimmed-- that tension is certainly not helping him. His initial reaction to her touch was to tense up; but a moment later, he seems to relax, if only a little bit.<br/><br/>"I just really need to get some sleep, I think." He was pretty sure the intuitive people could figure out his weakness, but he didn't want to just state it plainly. So instead, he covered up his need for darkness with the reasonable need for sleep.  To be fair, he is getting tired, too, so it's not a complete lie. "Say, did you ever read in the New York Times, about someone called 'the street cleaner'?" It probably had been buried under a lot of the bigger news, but it more or less amounted to a string of robbers, thugs, and general low lifes being knocked unconscious in the middle of their law-breaking, and pick-pockets getting robbed.  Usually, their was a broken bone or two, or a concussion to go along with that, since getting hit with a good, solid length of wood really hard tended to do that.