<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/474x/88/03/cd/8803cda331af378ebc752e5678f815e2--nick-bateman-black-opal.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Name:</strong> Hal Jordan (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=294841.msg14459790#msg14459790)<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong> Unknown, definitely Day<br/><strong>Location:</strong> The White Room now Justice Academy<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Clark, Koriand'r (M)<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> Navy-blue hoodie, white grease-spotted shirt, brown khaki jean pants, and socks<br/><strong>Note:</strong> Too hungover to care.</span><br/><hr/><br/>While everyone gathered around the table, talked and asked their questions, a hand crawled onto the surface of the table. Its digits extended and palm flattened as a body then rose into the seat behind it and plopped heavily into it. Hal had awoken when whatever he was sleeping on dissolved and dropped him onto the steel floor. It had been the second time he hit the floor, and at this point, he was tired of it and determined to stay awake—somewhat. Slumped in his chair, his arms dangled to his left and right and head eased back on the backrest. His half-lidded brown eyes rolled from his left and then to his right until he noticed the man with the golden helmet and who was…levitating. Hal frowned as he continued to stare at Dr. Fate.<em>This has to be a dream,</em>he thought.<br/><br/>Everyone was talking, saying smart shit, and asking questions. Hal’s hand rose to his face, grasping it as he closed his eyes. He should have drank more, but currently he had a hangover. His hand lowered as he checked his clothes for a bottle or even a small flask. There was just too much weird shit going on, and he was convinced that as everyone told him before—this wasn’t a MEPS. Finding nothing, Hal dropped his hands and sighed in exasperation. He returned to gazing at each of the young men and women surrounding him. They looked…human at least. He couldn’t say normal. But why was he here?<br/><br/>Suddenly, a strange language entered the room, causing Hal to turn his head and then his eyes nearly swelled out of his sockets when he laid sights on the orange girl. Orange skin, red hair, and green eyes; holy shit! She was an alien—or wearing a pretty convincing costume.<br/><br/>“What was that Chinese?” Hal muttered after Clark’s question about understanding her language. Hal was no linguist, and honestly, he had just been randomly guessed what language it was without thinking or identifying any correlations. As foreign as she seemed, he felt weird to think she was hot. Whether she was an alien or a cosplayer chick, he still found her to be attractive and would later consider seeing a psychiatrist.