Rooftop Arena(open)

[Patrick O'Connor]

The roof, a long time prowling ground of Daniel's. It was a good place to think. To just stare off into the distance and wonder at what was, what had been, and what could have been. Daniel wondered about the future of this school. In the days since his release from prison he had started going back to school. The riot had done a lot more damage then he had thought it would in the short time it had had to rumble. It had also ended a lot sooner then he had figured as well. The cops came, which had been a first and unlike a lot of other students the amount of heat that Daniel had brought down on himself from starting the riot had kept him from getting away. Fortunately the cops hadn't charged him for inciting a riot which would have landed him in lock up for the rest of his miserable life. And since he had not been charged he had been cut loose. Since the riot it had appeared that the SLF had dropped off of the radar. Interesting and convenient as Daniel figured that he would be more of a target for some sort of retaliation, or to be made an example of. Though he did figure that there would be some sort of consequences for his actions at some point. That however faded from his mind for the moment as he took in the day.

Daniel wore a pair of old blue jeans with a shirt was a grey t shirt that read "Whiskey Militia" with the logo plastered at his chest level. His hair was a short black that was just barely long enough in front to wave with the slight breeze that came out of the school. His eyes were a deep blue that seemed to flow with the natural climate of this place, the natural hope. The only other marks of significance were the few scars on his left forearm and the one scar that ran down from his right eyebrow down past his nose.

Daniel was a bit bored but hey, bored was a good thing. He wasn't in any life or death struggles at the moment so that had to be a plus. It had been awhile since he had been in a good fight though. That was both a good and a bad thing he figured. Well maybe not a bad thing seeing as a fight wasn't intrinsically bad in of itself. It was just a past time of his that he had not indulged in in quite awhile. Little did he knew that was about to change...

[Bishop]

"Looking for an opponent?"

Professional ice breaking skills right there. Names? Formalities. Asking about how you're doing today? This isn't Victorian England. Enter Bishop Mir, Persian joker extraordinaire, wearing a nice dark grey shirt hanging over a pair of black jeans. Match that with his brown skin, and you got evil that dark dude look alright.

"Cuz' I won't be it."

Wait what? Did I just spend a whole paragraph wasting my time?

"Unless you're desperate to punch someone."

Ok. Now you're pulling my leg.

The Persian man extended his arm and opened his mouth lazily as he stood a safe ten yards away from the other guy. Gotta play it safe, ya know?

"Bishop's the name. Being a thorn in your side my game." He nodded. "Sorry about the whole 'opponent' thing. You just gave off that vibe, ya know?" Ok. This fag is officially a telepath.

[Patrick O'Connor]

"Looking for an opponent?"

Daniel turned to the man, looking him over with interest. Sizing him up, attempting to get some sort of read off the man. Was he a threat? Was he the promised fight? If so, was he a challenge? Was he fast? Strong? Deceptive? Was he even offering to fight? There was always that possibility. It might have very well been just an idle question, that made the aggression in the Bostonian Junior rise because well, he wanted to fight. But Daniel very much hoped the dude wanted to fight because he sure as hell did.

"Cuz' I won't be it."

... or not...

Daniel gave an exasperated hanging his head. After a moment he would chuckle with a grin. It was amusing really. How quickly he was about to go in for the fight he had wanted. That and the absurdity of the situation. Someone seemingly offering a fight and then saying no? Had Daniel been anyone else he might have been pissed off at the dude enough to force the guy into a fight anyway. See, those were what we call morals. There these things that people have, even those who enjoy fighting because hey, fighting isn't intrinsically wrong.

"Bishop's the name. Being a thorn in your side my game. Sorry about the whole 'opponent' thing. You just gave off that vibe, ya know?"

"The name's Daniel," he replied, noting the distance between the two visually, "You make a habit saying things you don't mean?"

Daniel asked that noting the fact that he didn't seem too particularly sorry. Or at all really. Then again maybe Daniel was misreading this guy again. Perhaps being a thorn in his side didn't mean that this Bishop guy wasn't sorry for not being an opponent. Yeah, sure. At the very least this guy was turning out to be entertaining already.

"So Bishop, what brings you up to this fight-less fortress of solitude? To ponder the meaning of life?"

[Bishop]

"Whoa, pondering, now that's a big word right there." Bishop's eyebrows jumped as he approached Daniel by the side, looking in the same general direction as him. This guy wasn't off the mark though. The rooftop was a nice place to come and think about the various things that bothered Bishop back in the days. Well, that's not a bit untrue. He usually came to think about ways to bother people.

It was good to be bad, back in the days.

"You could say I came here to get a feel of the place," Bishop started, "the rooftop is usually one of the key places of a school's underground, as ironic as it may sound." He took a few steps forward, standing dangerously close to the edge, then turned around to look at Daniel, face to face. There was an aged smirk on his face.

"And so I see you here, on the sky throne. So I have to ask: are you someone important? Someone I, as a teacher's assistant, should keep my eyes on?"

Bishop was standing in the grey zone. Part of him was a college student, while another was school staff (indirectly), he was pretty much playing on two teams at the same time.