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Oct. 7th, 2007 03:44 pm[OOC: A few hours after this.]
Havelock goes unnoticed, or as near as, by timing his return for the very beginning of breakfast, where there are only a few younger students who have not yet taken dark*, strolling in as if he has been for an early walk before classes, and making for a mostly empty section of the hall.
And there he stays, with a cup of very poor but strong coffee, and enough toast to make him feel vaguely human after a night without sleep. His peers drift in just in time to get something to eat, and he contemplates the table in silence, ignores the habitual "Morning, Dogbotherer. No contracts yet?" from Downey as he passes, waits patiently until attention has drifted away from him. Then he heads with the flow of fellow students to his first class of the day.
It isn't until late that evening when he makes a circuit back to the office to check for messages left for him - or indeed, for anyone else that strikes his interest - that he notices the new contract posting, with the discreet black mark that indicates it has been taken up. He carefully looks away and strolls calmly past on his way up to his room as if uninterested, but inwardly he is kicking himself fiercely. He should have checked this morning, when he got back. As if there was much he could have done. As if there's much he can do now.
He locks the door behind him, glances out of the window, and begins to change from black to deep grey clothing while he waits for those departing on contracts to be gone.
* That is: are in the less advanced years and must still wear uniform, as all must before doing well enough to be allowed to dress all in the mostly-black clothing of real assassins. As said uniform consists of much blue and cream, and also features ruffles, it tends to incur shame and a healthy ambition to suceed in their studies as quickly as possible. Older students have the luxury of being too cool for mornings if they aren't necessary, creatures of the night that they generally are.
Havelock goes unnoticed, or as near as, by timing his return for the very beginning of breakfast, where there are only a few younger students who have not yet taken dark*, strolling in as if he has been for an early walk before classes, and making for a mostly empty section of the hall.
And there he stays, with a cup of very poor but strong coffee, and enough toast to make him feel vaguely human after a night without sleep. His peers drift in just in time to get something to eat, and he contemplates the table in silence, ignores the habitual "Morning, Dogbotherer. No contracts yet?" from Downey as he passes, waits patiently until attention has drifted away from him. Then he heads with the flow of fellow students to his first class of the day.
It isn't until late that evening when he makes a circuit back to the office to check for messages left for him - or indeed, for anyone else that strikes his interest - that he notices the new contract posting, with the discreet black mark that indicates it has been taken up. He carefully looks away and strolls calmly past on his way up to his room as if uninterested, but inwardly he is kicking himself fiercely. He should have checked this morning, when he got back. As if there was much he could have done. As if there's much he can do now.
He locks the door behind him, glances out of the window, and begins to change from black to deep grey clothing while he waits for those departing on contracts to be gone.
* That is: are in the less advanced years and must still wear uniform, as all must before doing well enough to be allowed to dress all in the mostly-black clothing of real assassins. As said uniform consists of much blue and cream, and also features ruffles, it tends to incur shame and a healthy ambition to suceed in their studies as quickly as possible. Older students have the luxury of being too cool for mornings if they aren't necessary, creatures of the night that they generally are.
