Amalgaverse High

It's just not been Wesker's week. Or month, for that matter. Saying he's been 'under the weather' is a pretty big understatement and most days he looks like death warmed over. That still doesn't stop him from attending school since he does have grades and gossip to attend to.

Maybe he should've taken some time off to rest and recuperate though.

This fine school day finds Wesker in the boys' locker room, sweating like he's been in a sauna for a couple hours straight, his hair matted down to his head in a very unstylish manner. Somewhere along the way he's ripped off his shirt and discarded his jeans, too hot and uncomfortable to tolerate anything more than the red boxer-briefs he wears.

Hunched over on a bench, he cradles his feverish head in his hands, his jaw clenched as he grits his teeth together. Something on his back, some cluster of muscle perhaps, twitches erratically and he hisses in pain.

Where do the cool kids hang out after school? The mall, obviously. But not that lowly, trashy mall. This is the fancy mall on the rich side of town. The one with stores that carry shit like Coach bags and Jimmy Choo shoes and things no normal person should ever need. Anyone who's not willing to drop a few hundred on something you can get from the regular mall should...probably go to the regular mall.

Of course Wesker would be shopping here. Step foot in that gross, commoner mall? Not a damn chance. He's making his way through what little crowds there are, chatting on his cell phone, while in his other hand he's got a couple bags from some of the clothing stores. His next destination? That fancy boutique up ahead.

Fancy /indeed/. It even has personal shoppers so all the rich, snooty people who shop there don't need to lift a finger. And they get the added bonus of bossing people around. Excellent. One of those poor saps who does your shopping for you is Maxwell, and he's jsut finished clocking in, heading up to the register to wait around until called upon to be a glorified slave. Fun!
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Welcome, parents and students and teachers alike, to the open house! The outside of the school has been decorated with streamers and brightly colored signs, directing people inwards through the open doors.

Once inside there's a small podium with a sign in book (just so Principal Blake can track who RSVP'd and showed up/didn't show up) right near the doorway. Past that brass bars with velvet ropes connecting them form a pathway to lead visitors and staff alike into the gymnasium.

In the gym, tables are set up with punch and several party subs all cut up into small portions. There's more than enough food for everyone to have seconds. There's also paper plates, cups, napkins, all that fine stuff. Staff mill about, waiting to be approached, and the man himself (Mr. Blake) looms near the emergency exit doors in his tuxedo, sipping punch.

So parents, students, teachers, go and mingle! Have fun! Try not to break anything or Mr. Blake WILL be upon you like an unholy plague.