<div align="center"><span class="bbc_u"><em>Author's Note: Here's some background on this roleplay's concept: https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=273130.msg13431464#msg13431464 </em></span><br/><br/></div>Michael Underwood wore a smile of contentment -scratch that-<em>pure satisfaction</em>as he walked up the campus sidewalk.<br/><br/>It was only a few short years ago that the thought of something as normal as attending post-secondary school was anything but for Michael.<br/>Highschool and a negative time seemed to be the stereotype and, much as Michael hated adding weight to those, that had been his experience too. Topped off with missed days for reasons not to his fault, Michael had fallen behind. But one thing he knew how to do (amidst all that it seemed he didn't) was how to work hard.<br/><br/>Giving it his all when his personal circumstances at last allowed him to, Michael set his sights forward in earnest. Breaking through the lack of encouragement from the faculty -well, most of the faculty- who seemed to think his efforts warranted only the proverbial pat on the head, Michael pulled up his grades adequately; a track scholarship bringing him the rest of the way.<br/><br/>"I wanna' thank everyone who ever told me 'no'," he sang quietly to himself before<em>he strode towards the doors. . . . . .</em><br/><br/><div align="center">* * *</div><br/>That had been a few months ago now and Michael was singing a distinctly different tune. "When it comes to brains you got the short end of the stick."<br/><br/>Sitting at a table in the library for who knew how long, Michael was looking over an assignment he'd been freshly handed back with the grace of a do-over (perhaps from pure sympathy) as his thought expression had been notably sound -that was something, since thoughts didn't always come to him clearly- but he had, apparently, completely misunderstood what the assignment was supposed to be.<br/><br/>He had his carrier bag on the table to his right and a textbook open by his left arm. A piece of paper with the assignment copied down on it played the part of a bookmark. He probably seemed pretty old school for being all low tech in this century, but looks could be deceiving. In truth Michael kept his finger on the pulse of the tech world but didn't trust it for everything - too many glitches and power failures (okay, blame the latter on his memory) caused him to divorce his schoolwork from the computer. They had to meet occasionally, but did so on shaky terms.<br/><br/><br/>Lifting the assignment page from the book, Michael held it in a lose fist by one corner and uttered under his breath as he read the words over again,<em>carefully</em>, as if dissecting the meaning of each one in strategy to tackle the whole.<br/><br/>His seal brown eyes shifted to the multiple pages in his other hand (fingers curled behind them instead of held flat) as he soundlessly read over his opening paragraph. . .His eyes narrowed as if just asked to find the difference between two circles and the next moment, Michael let everything fall from his hands to the table, running one of the former through his short yet full choco-coloured hair. "If failing this class means the end to my future, shoot me now."<br/><br/>