#ultimatebusker

Conor looks surprised at first, but then smiles at him.  “Sure!  I’ll take you in, no problem.”  He leads Shirou over to his room, and opens the door for the two of them.

It looks like Conor hasn’t done much in the way of personalizing the room.  It looks a lot like it did when they all first came into the castle.  However, it does look like his suitcase was unpacked. Where would you like to look, Shirou?

 The day was relatively young. Well, relatively being the operative word. Since it was a Saturday, Mia of course had decided to sleep in a bit (read, a lot) to compensate for the ridiculous schools schedule she was forced to endure. Not to mention that Saturdays were still a blessing to her. Though she did miss performing at the Barrelhouse, the Friday shows that ran until way too early did make things hard for her. She’d miss the shows every other day of the week, but Saturday could be her moment to accept the distance between the bar and Hope’s Peak.

 After dressing herself, applying a touch of makeup and doing her hair, she decided she was ready to tackle the day. Of course, this meant doing stupid homework in the library. It wasn’t that her studies required she be in the library, but it was more about being surrounded by people. Being cramped up in her little dorm wasn’t her style. And if this brought about a little bit of procrastination, it was but a casualty of the homework she received.

@ultimatebusker

“One, two, one -- two -- three!”

With a pick in hand, Charger’s idle strum echoed through the music hall, strong and steady. Hope’s Peak had an extroadinary, almost comprehensive on-campus set of orchestra and band instruments; as figures, considering how massive their musically oriented student base was. The sheer fact, however, that she was able to locate and successfully hook up an electric guitar -- absolutely radical! As for her skill with it, well...

It seemed like the powers above were smiling on her today. Her ability with her old, second hand, acoustic guitar transferred flawlessly to this more powerful model. Maybe she was starting to lose herself in it; as her strums and cords grew more confident and varied, the girl was beginning to bounce between her feet and swish her hips. Within a few minutes, the bubblegum pink mohawk was being thrown to side to side as she lost herself in the music.

At least, until, Charger turned on her heel in a dramatic windmill, and noticed someone standing behind her. It was a good thing that the guitar had a shoulder strap -- if she hadn’t been careful enough as to put it on, the instrument would’ve crashed to the ground. Panicked, Charger looked desperately from side to side, as though looking for someone else to blame the noise on.