Gerard sat curled up on the floor in the corner of the room, his frightened hazel eyes surveyed the room, from the strange people here and their even stranger attire, to the odd object in the room with moving pictures. Gerard was positive he was in Atlanta. At least, that's what the mutants, erm, "professors", told him. It certainly wasn't 1928 anymore, though. God, he really screwed up this time. At the moment, Gerard couldn't even remember why he'd run away from his mother in the first place. Some stupid reason, for sure. All Gerard did know is that he missed his mother, and he was once again faced with the crushing weight that his mother was dead, that he'd never get to see her again. Her body would have been laid to rest at their estate in New York. Gerard wondered if anyone lived there now, and perhaps if they were related to him. He felt strangely angered at the thought of some other boy playing in his stream, of some other boy finding some of the house's secret passageways.
Gerard shook his head, his choppy black hair falling into his eyes. He would not cry, not here at least. He would wait until he got to his room, and even then he'd have to be careful, as he wasn't sure if he yet had a roommate. Gerard had come to the area where he now was, hoping that someone could help him, or at least maybe someone could tell him more about his time. And yet, this didn't seem to help much. They were all too occupied among their own little cliques, having already made friends despite the apparent new start of the Academy.
Gerard stood, smoothing out the wrinkles on his trousers and rolling up the sleeves of his dark red dress shirt to his elbows. Lonely and confused, the thirteen year old began to make his way out of the room when he basically slammed into someone. Gerard hadn't been aware that he was walking that fast, but he extended a hand to steady the person out of instinct. "Désolé!" Apologized the boy quickly in French. His pale cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment. He'd basically pushed himself into this social situation. It would look bad for him to just walk away on it. "Erm," Gerard's voice was soft, and laced with his French accent. "I'm Gerard.....You are?"
