<div class="floatright">(http://marco-torres.com/files/gimgs/64_img0933-copy.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Storm Nightsong<br/><strong>Sortment:</strong>Gold Student<br/><strong>Identifies as:</strong>Non-Binary | They/Them<br/><strong>Preference:</strong>Demisexual<br/><strong>Mood:</strong>Ready to consume<br/><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong>12.21.20 | Dinner time!<br/><strong>Mentioning:</strong>Anyone & everyone<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>@ Quinn Fabray (Mxyptlk) | Open<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Sitting at a round table, nearby<br/><hr/><br/>Storm had just dunked their sandwich into the piping hot soup that Miss E had given them. Jaw unhinged, and ready to bite down, when in walked a person whom Storm had never seen before. They froze, for a blink, and then sunk their teeth into the spongy, goodness. Their ears were listening intently, while their eyes tried not to seem too curious. Since age thirteen, the Alberta transplant attended Jamison Clarke, from middle school, all the way up until now - the college years. They remembered all of the faces that graduated up with them. Even the new students at the beginning of term - their faces were fresh in Storm's mind. But not this person. On occasion, visiting family would come and eat in the dining center with their attendee, but this person was alone.<br/><br/>The rolling luggage was something Storm also took interest in. Most college kids were about duffle bags. And this late in the year, the Uni wasn't taking on new students. After chewing their first bite, thoroughly, Storm cleared their throat and asked, since they weren't that far away, "Did the school recruit chaperones, for the winter ski trip? Is that... something that sounds familiar to you... Miss?"