Atelo [MXM] [BOOK 1] ✓

CHAPTER 3: 1-A IAP

Marley feels as though this is the point where he should carry his own bags in, but he really doesn't want to walk in there alone. He's already having trouble circulating air in and out of his lungs, being finally alone with his thoughts is not something he's looking forward to. He's planning on stalling that as long as possible.

So he walks alongside the driver man up the sidewalk and through the front entrance of the building, which is looming over him almost menacingly. He can tell, right now, he's not going to like this place one bit.

It's a good thing he's always been excellent at good behavior. Let's hope he's out of here in no time.

There's a woman waiting for them as soon as they enter the building. She's standing in the middle of a lobby-type-area. He doesn't know if it could be described as a lobby, though, because usually lobbies are at least a little homey and comforting. This, though? It's almost office-esque. Mostly grays and blacks and neutral colors in general. Not appealing to the eye in any way, and about the size of Marley's bedroom.

The woman doesn't look happy. She looks as though she prays for death hourly. Her eyes are practically begging for someone to put her out of her misery. Which says a lot, because almost always people try to at least feign happiness in front of Marley. Like one little thing will result in him disliking them or banishing them out of the Westhem.

"Hello, Welcome to 1-A Institution for Abnormal Persons." She greets. It doesn't have all that much emotion in it and he can tell it's rehearsed.

Okay, so he doesn't want to say he was expecting special treatment, but he's used to people trying to either please him or just being generally scared of him. He's become accustomed to being made to feel like an outcast, like he's above everyone else. Different.

This lady, though? He may as well be just another resident of 1-A.

"Lola Stengel is going to assist you in getting accustomed. She should be here in a few minutes. You may sit down until then–she will also give you your room number, where he can put the bags."

Marley nods, not knowing what else to do. He's kind of trying to figure out if he misheard her on the whole sit down until then thing. He's not used to waiting. He doesn't like to wait, as it usually ends with him overthinking it painfully until he's freaking out about all outcomes and on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Now he has to wait. For a girl he doesn't know. To show him around this prison. Dear Christ, it's like some higher power out there really enjoys to drag on the shitty situations.

Marley doesn't like to sit down. His father always told him it was unprofessional. This is why he just stands there with the driver–who is looking more uncomfortable by the minute–and waits for... dammit, what was her name?

It's started with an S. Or at least, one of her names did. Shit, he really hopes she doesn't get offended. Being polite is about his only talent. Without that he's just a rude, average child with a massive bank account and important parents.

It doesn't take too long before a girl is hurrying into the room from a door he didn't notice. She has a few papers with her and a demeanor only slightly on edge.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, I... um... this was such short notice and I thought you were coming tomorrow. I... I think our printer ran out of ink." The first thing he notices is her unnaturally red hair, then her quiet voice that he's surprised he could even understand.

He can tell she's nervous, though. Okay. Marley's still a prince. This is definitely how he's used to being treated.

She's looking through the papers. Marley feels awkward. Is he supposed to help somehow? He thinks he should. He has a feeling that he would only make it worse if he offered, though.