<div class="floatleft">(http://www.campuscircle.com/film/104112.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Victor Creed<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Sabertooth<br/><strong>Dorm Assignment:</strong>Room 5<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Central building - Cafeteria<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>As shown in pic<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 3rd, Early evening<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jaine-Lynn Dough<br/><hr/><br/>Well... things could be worse, he supposed. He felt like he wasn't the sorest of all the 'students' here, but he was certainly more sore than he had felt in a long time. He had taken a shower before dinner, more as a matter of habit than anything else. Feeling the icy air in his still wet hair sent a chill through his body, but he hadn't been sick since... well, as long as he could remember, so despite the warnings of desperate battles against colds and chills and all sorts of ungodly household sicknesses, he ran his fingers through the slick mess, arranging it into looking a little less like a South American jungle, and he stepped into the food line.<br/><br/>His selection of food was wholly American, going for the juicy steak, medium rare, a portion of fries, and a bowl of chopped pickles, olives, lettuce, tomatoes and green peppers, spices with salt, olive oil and some white wine vinegar, topped with an icy carton of OJ. He didn't pick any dessert. He would have gone on a tirade about how high sugar was bad for you, quoting one of the many reasons that his high-school PE teacher, an ape of a man called Slade Mikkelson, had beat into each of his students. But the fact of the matter was that Victor had never really come up with much of a sweet tooth. He liked salty and full of taste. If he put his mind into it, he could be a gourmet diner. Maybe once he was finished here, he could take that on as a hobby. You know, superhero and savior of the world by day, aspiring gourmet chef by night?<br/><br/>Well, no one could ever accuse him of being cliche.<br/><br/>As he made his way towards a couple of the more empty tables in the corner, he noted one of the students struggling with her carton of milk. Fatigued muscles that all of a sudden didn't work the way they aught? Not used to this particular kind of carton? No, that couldn't be it, he thought. Those looked about as standard as someone could ask for.<br/><br/>"Here," He said, taking a second to place his own tray on the table across from her before nodding and gently unhanding the carton from her vicious grasp," Unless you're aiming at spilling all that milk over yourself, you'll have a happier ending like so," He quickly opened the carton and handed it back to her," Unless of course you were, in fact aiming on spilling milk all over yourself in which case I'm sorry and I'll go get another carton for ya..." Yeah, sound like you're making fun of her, Vic. Smooth.<br/><br/>He shook his head and sat down across from her," Sorry. I make bad jokes when I'm nervous," He offered his hand over his tray," Hi, I'm Victor."