Will was psyched. Somehow, despite a whole bunch of radical pineapple nonsense, the Cetus was actually managing to keep up in his classes and, as a total bonus, had kept his captaincy of the Quidditch team. Of course, he was hoping for some better gameplay this year, but all things considered, he classified anything as a win at this point. Got a good grade? Win. Knock away the quaffle in a game? Win. Avoid detention? Win. Avoid everyone else? Win. Really, his term had just been full of wins so far. There was so much drama all the time that doing anything but studying and quidditch just seemed like everyone was asking too much of him. Besides, wasn’t that what he was here for? An education and skills to get him through the rest of his life.
It wasn’t that he was purposefully avoiding everyone else, it was more just that he felt like he didn’t have time or energy to contribute to people. He preferred to spend his time studying or reading in the outdoor classroom with Faust draped over his shoulder or slithering through the grass nearby. The small, white corn snake had become his constant companion and had grown a bit bigger since he’d started at RMI. She could now wrap full around his left arm and could easily drape herself over his shoulders. It had been easy enough to keep her fed, consistent trips to Pearl Street or a quick trip to the Passageways usually had her catching a mouse.
If he was being honest, Will would admit that he was having trouble relating to people. It was something that he had always struggled with, but his unmended relationship with Reagan had left much to be desired in the way of friendship or whatever else he’d thought it could be. It made him - hesitant - to reach out to people. Even the few conversations with Drew had been not so great and they lived together in the same dorm. One really shouldn’t get him started about talking with Huburt, that felt like talking to a brick wall all on its own. He’d probably just get a lecture or something and he already had one mum for that (though he couldn’t tell you which one would give the kinder lecture). In fact, the poor bloke would probably just make an educational speech about Will’s feelings like he was some sort of zoo exhibit.
It was all just too much sometimes.
For that exact reason, Will had started to hit the quidditch pitch before morning classes. Running laps tended to help clear his head and get him focused for the day. He’d left Faust curled up asleep in his book bag, making sure she was tucked far enough in from any prying eyes (she was also a built in defense mechanism if you tried to nick any of his stuff; her chomps might be little, but they still hurt). Somewhere around the middle of his fifth lap, he noticed a figure make their way onto the pitch. He couldn’t tell who it was or what they were up to, but he still slowed as he made his approach.
“G’mornin,” he said as he got closer. The spells controlling the weather had put out a bright glare on the field this morning and of course, he was staring right into it. Blighted sun made it so that he couldn’t see who he was talking to. “How’s it cutting for ya today?”