Making a Terrible Impression (Vincent)

[Marshal Bishop]

It was rush hour, old and new students alike from the meet-n-greet had gone back to change from the terrible school uniforms. Marshal didn't mind it, he felt like everyone was closer in uniform; plus all the uniforms made the girls look like anime school girls (though he would never mention it). He was sure this is why the girls (especially) seemed eager to change clothes.
Marshal entered the Boys' dorms, bag in hand and ready to move into his room. Male students shoved past him as he walked slower to find his assigned room number. "409, 409, 409" Marshal repeated to himself looking up from door to door. 
"409, Aaahhha." He exclaimed happily. This happiness was short lived as a passing student knocked the luggage from his hands, spilling the contents of the bag across the floor to be trampled on. "Oh, C'mon!" He shouted, nobody seemed to notice or care about what happened, save a few sympathetic glances. People always seemed in a rush here at Ashford.
Marshal scooped the contents back into his single bag and held it fast against his chest, trying to balance it in one arm while simultaneously freeing the other to dig for the room key in his pocket. Finding it, he quickly unlocked and opened the door, his grip slipping from his bag at every passing moment. The door flew open harder than expected, in a desperate attempt not to have his belongings spill out again he awkwardly approached the emptier of the two beds with both hands gripped tightly around the luggage (which was now more of a disorganized bundle).
He gave a sigh, relieved, it could have gone much worse. He then turned around discovering his new roommate pulling up his trousers as if he had just finished changing clothes like the rest of the dormitory. The worst part of this terrible first impression is that the door was left wide open, others could've seen this surprised and perplexed student with his pants down.
Marshal, in his best attempt to remedy the situation, avoided any direct eye contact with the fellow and quickly shut the door to the hall, locking it. He then stood there, paralyzed from personal embarrassment of the situation.

[Vincent Fairchild]

There was something to be said about situations like these. 

Vincent had been putting his things away, making entirely certain that his side of the room was secure. Though he hadn't expected to have a roommate anyway. There were locks on all of his suitcases, along with them being well hidden. He was a cautious person...Why wouldn't he be? He had a lot of practice with these things having been in an actual boarding school before coming here. It was just in his nature to keep his secrets...As his secrets. The other students rushed around the hallway, and he could hear all of them right outside of his door. No one would come in here by mistake while he made his room to fit his usual standard. 

The young man adjusted his glasses on his face as he checked over, and over, and over again at his side of the room. He had already analyzed and completely memorized the appearance the first time, but he just wanted to be sure. If something were to end up out of place...He would be the second to know. The first of course being the individual who caused that change. Though at the same time I suppose the might be myself... 

After making entirely certain that he had properly hidden all of his personal items, the young man began to make the bed, along with making certain to leave a few items laying around his side of the room. This was about marking territory. Should he have a roommate it would be easier to recognize boundaries. Along with the fact that it was more natural for a teenager to have a room that looked like this, as opposed to being completely clean. All of this to help him throw off other people...To make certain that no one would become suspicious of him, or find sport in looking through his items. Blending in would be a big part of his time here at Ashford, as much as possible with a school full of superhuman individuals. With books and t-shirt strewn along the bed post, and floor and on the desk he was more comfortable to move on to changing into his clothing. He rolled his shoulders to hear them popping, and made his way to the closet. 

Per usual the young man began with his socks, and undergarments. He wanted to mumble to himself about how the feeling of his boxers were not exactly as comforting as that of another type that he would sometimes wear, but he considered for a moment that the free fit that they offered might be better for him in the long run. Next was the top half of his clothing...The dress shirt and tie. This would be easier considering that he would have to tuck them into the pants. Finally he walked out of the closet with his pants set gently at the bottom of his legs...All he had to do was pull them up. 

And then there were two. 

As the other boy quickly walked in, barely holding any of his items in his arms, and slamming the door loudly, Vincent swiftly pulled his pants up. Luckily his quick reaction time made it so that only the more observant students in the hallway saw the flash of the young man's underpants...And lucky for him they were in fact not the compromising sort. The other individual then made quick eye contact with him. Vincent was stoic. Calm. Unwilling to show the other individual that the circumstance had bothered him in the slightest. And for the most part it was only the way that Marshal opened the door that bothered him. 

"Knocking on the doors was the standard procedure in London....Though I suppose that the situation was not quite ideal. Did you ask for help? Obviously you did not receive any...I suppose you could just be disorganized, and I am only assuming that you had complications on your way to the door. It just seemed that way from your rush into the room."

...and Vincent has no problem saying it. 

[Marshal Bishop]

First of all, Marshal couldn't believe he wasn't chewed out for walking in on his (painfully petite) roommate in his underpants. And second, there was no way Marshal were to expect such accurate (and absolutely impressive) analysis from such a stoic creature. Marshal looked at the boy, still staring at him, calculating almost. NO. Exactly calculating.

"Impressive." Marshal complimented in a genuine and tone.

Marshal put his bag on his lap, the few things he had left were either hastily stuffed in, or spilling out of his single piece of luggage. He tucked the ends of his favorite jacket back into the bag. It had been with him in the fire, just like his shoes. It probably smelled like a campfire of sorts.

Marshal looked up from his bag to find his unusually studious roommate in the same unflinching, standing position he was found in the moment he pulled up his pants. Or, as this new room mate would probably prefer, 'trousers'. It was like he was afraid of Marshal, or the idea of a roommate. Except, whatever look was received from this, frail individual, was definitely not fear. It was a concentrated front of sorts.

Marshal gave a smile, "anything else you figured out about me? Name... Powers... Blood type?" He joked lightly, sliding his bag under the bed.