InsaneJournal

Things were going all right during Mitch's first week living at Asgard. He hadn't gotten into any fights with his teammates. He'd spoken with interesting people over the journals. A few were intimidating, others were rather quiet, some were loud, and this one person... Well, he wasn't excited about meeting that person at all. Sal sparked such a rush of anger that the already fuming teenager wanted to hit something. Any inanimate object would've done, or Sal himself would've been even better. Instead, Mitch pushed the anger down inside, along with the many other emotions he had difficulty expressing.

There was one nonviolent way to blow off the steam. Well, mostly nonviolent. He'd still be hitting something, but it wouldn't be destructive. 

Asgard had the most luxurious room he'd ever seen. The ballroom opened up onto a grand dance floor, with tiles that were both sturdy and elegant. Chairs were kept to one side while on the other stood a huge electronic sound system, which could play both old records and modern CDs. Although Mitch was definitely interested in that, he headed over to where all the instruments were, new and shiny and waiting to be played.

The bright red drum set caught his eye. He put down the large, half-frozen water bottle he'd been holding and sat on the stool. His foot pressed on the foot petal and began a steady beat on the bass drum. Before Mitch picked up the drumsticks from the snare, he looked around, anxious that people might hear him playing and tell him to stop, or just plain ridicule him.

"What the hell," he murmured to himself. 

Then he began to play, and soon became swept up in the rhythm.