Duncan Wallace
Duncan awoke from a fitful night of sleep. He heard someone come in and when he realized it was John he had said nothing and promptly turned over in his bed facing the wall. No sense in conversation, he thought.
Slowly rising from the bed he dressed in simple black shirt and some loose fitted jeans. Throwing his backpack over his shoulder he headed out the room, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to 'fix' it. He managed to snag an apple from the dorm fridge on their floor and walked out of the building. Taking a bite out of his apple, he looked down at his schedule to check for his next class. 'History of the Lycans'. He snorted his amusement. Well at least he'd be surrounded by fellow werewolves that he may, or may not, relate to.
He was late, shocker. Duncan made the trek to the back of the room while the class silently watched him, you know the usually stare the class normally gives you when you come in late, like you've got six heads. Sitting comfortably in the corner of the room, took of a notebook and actually paid attention to the lecture. It was finally a class he gave a shit about since it had some part to do with him, in the smallest part. He was so attuned to the class he hadn't noticed the small red head staring at him in amusement. When he did look up at her, he was surprised to notice that she was actually cute and not creepy, despite her staring at him.
"Can I help you?" he asked. That only made her smile broaden.
"Not really, just noticed that you seem to be living up to your reputation," just then the bell rang and she got up and left the room.
Duncan remained in his chair, a little stunned from the interaction. Reputation? Well the hell did that mean? Shaking his head, he got up and walked out into the courtyard. There was an hour to kill before the next class, might as well enjoy the day.