For his almost first time all alone without his mom, Gwenaël felt like he did quite well. Not that he'd voice it; he was, after all, a real man, and like most teenagers his age, felt like he knew everything and didn't need any dumb adult to guide him. Still, in this case, it had been quite a scary leap he'd taken in the unknown, and he was glad to be “home”. Well, to reach his dorm room anyway. It wasn't really home; home was a small stone cottage with a view on the stormy sea, complete with the heavy rain that often fell on his corner of Brittany and a cup of his mother's hot chocolate snug in his hands.
Though it had only been about two days since he left said home, and he had a feeling it was much too soon to feel nostalgic of it all. No, right now, what he had to do was claim this dorm as his own new place and make himself as cosy as he could in it. He'd taken quite a lot of stuff with him to make sure that would happen. Since he'd wear a uniform here (yuck, that was definitely not cool- though then again nobody would judge his clothings choice and call him a… country pumpkin, was it? Something to do with vegetables at least. English slang was an odd thing.), he didn't bother bringing too many clothes, just a few of his favourite pair of pants and shirts and jumpers. Which meant he had a lot of place left in his pretty big suitcase for all sort of posters and his laptop and other things he couldn't survive without.
The young man was aware he'd have someone to room with- as a matter of fact, he'd been told he'd move in with someone who'd joined the academy already. Which was very exciting since it sounded like a very cool situation he'd see on tv, and also scary- what if the roommate was not cool, or didn't get along well with him? He had to take a breath before his anxiety levels raised to the point something embarrassing would happen- like him going invisible, good luck explaining the door opening all by itself. Still he managed to keep his angsty emotions under control as he fumbled to get in, before looking around curiously, unable to hold himself back. Apparently the excitement of moving in had won against the anxiety.
Pulling his suitcase behind him, he fully stepped in, deciding to try and look confident and friendly. First impressions were very important after all. Part of that involved noticing the guy he presumed would be his dorm-mate, walking right up to him in big strides, leaning in and invading his private space by kissing him on both cheeks with a smile. It was such a normal part of his previous everyday life he hadn't even considered the possibility of it not being a regular greeting for anyone who didn't live in France.
It didn't last very long of course, a few seconds of him being uncomfortably close at most. Once again in an attempt to look cool and not like the big dork he actually was, he smiled and introduced himself.
“Hello! I am Gwenaël, from Bretagne, and I live here now! You are my dorm mate?”
In English too, because that was what he'd expected everyone to speak here- even if his grasp of the language wasn't always the best, and pretty oddly accented. The other guy didn't really look French so there were little chances he'd understand him if he tried that- never mind his local dialect of breton.
The young man felt pretty pleased with himself, as he felt like he'd done well in looking like he was a cool, chill, friendly dude who knew what he was doing, and not an anxious kid who'd spent all his time on the plane ride over here rehearsing what he was meant to do upon meeting new people.
@Emy
Though it had only been about two days since he left said home, and he had a feeling it was much too soon to feel nostalgic of it all. No, right now, what he had to do was claim this dorm as his own new place and make himself as cosy as he could in it. He'd taken quite a lot of stuff with him to make sure that would happen. Since he'd wear a uniform here (yuck, that was definitely not cool- though then again nobody would judge his clothings choice and call him a… country pumpkin, was it? Something to do with vegetables at least. English slang was an odd thing.), he didn't bother bringing too many clothes, just a few of his favourite pair of pants and shirts and jumpers. Which meant he had a lot of place left in his pretty big suitcase for all sort of posters and his laptop and other things he couldn't survive without.
The young man was aware he'd have someone to room with- as a matter of fact, he'd been told he'd move in with someone who'd joined the academy already. Which was very exciting since it sounded like a very cool situation he'd see on tv, and also scary- what if the roommate was not cool, or didn't get along well with him? He had to take a breath before his anxiety levels raised to the point something embarrassing would happen- like him going invisible, good luck explaining the door opening all by itself. Still he managed to keep his angsty emotions under control as he fumbled to get in, before looking around curiously, unable to hold himself back. Apparently the excitement of moving in had won against the anxiety.
Pulling his suitcase behind him, he fully stepped in, deciding to try and look confident and friendly. First impressions were very important after all. Part of that involved noticing the guy he presumed would be his dorm-mate, walking right up to him in big strides, leaning in and invading his private space by kissing him on both cheeks with a smile. It was such a normal part of his previous everyday life he hadn't even considered the possibility of it not being a regular greeting for anyone who didn't live in France.
It didn't last very long of course, a few seconds of him being uncomfortably close at most. Once again in an attempt to look cool and not like the big dork he actually was, he smiled and introduced himself.
“Hello! I am Gwenaël, from Bretagne, and I live here now! You are my dorm mate?”
In English too, because that was what he'd expected everyone to speak here- even if his grasp of the language wasn't always the best, and pretty oddly accented. The other guy didn't really look French so there were little chances he'd understand him if he tried that- never mind his local dialect of breton.
The young man felt pretty pleased with himself, as he felt like he'd done well in looking like he was a cool, chill, friendly dude who knew what he was doing, and not an anxious kid who'd spent all his time on the plane ride over here rehearsing what he was meant to do upon meeting new people.
@Emy