The door closed behind Jason, a slight rush of air pulled his long hair away from his face. Out of the corner of his black eyes he saw a woman leading a younger teen out of the room. In front of him a door closed as a burly man entered the room. His muscles bulged out of his clothing and he had a stubbly, unshaven chin. He leaned against the heavy oak desk in the center of the room, were another man was standing.
“You must be Shade,” the strong, but short man started, pulling a cigar out of his jean pocket, “Gambit, got a light?” He turned to the taller man next to him, who touched the end of the cigar, causing the end to erupt into flame for a second, before settling down to a calm glow. “Thanks, Bub,” the smoker grunted in his gristly voice. “Smoking’s poison,” Jason spat. The smoker chuckled in his deep voice. “You see mon ami, Wolverine don’t much care for his health concerns,” Gambit laughed as he walked away, twirling his metal Bo staff.
“Alright, med student, I’ll show ye to your room,” Wolverine said, billowing clouds of smoke rising from his lips. Jason forced the air out of his nose loudly, keeping the smell of tobacco and rat poison from his lungs. “This way, Bub,” Wolverine turned and began leading Jason to his room.
The door was wood, dark against the tan wall. Wolverine opened it casually, “Bathroom’s down the hall, Kid.” “Thanks,” Jason said, walking into his room. Wolverine went to turn on the lights, but Jason pushed his hand away, “Better like this.” Wolverine met the kid’s eyes and nodded. “The room is smoke free if I recall correctly,” Jason commented. Wolverine chuckled as he shut the door. “Just let me know if you need anything, ‘doctorate,’” Jason heard the tough voice through the thick door.
In the darkness of the room, Jason found calm, peace. He walked over to the bed, a pamphlet sat open on it with a schedule taped to the inside page. Jason sat cross legged on the bed, thumbing through it. 8:00 am: Orientation, great, an early start to the day, Jason shook his head, tossing the pamphlet on the floor. Not ready for sleep he put his hands on his crossed knees, closed his eyes and opened his awareness. Meditation was always best at night, when the smooth caress of darkness touched him coolly.
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