The last plane ride Christian had been on involved handcuffs so this one was quite pleasant by comparison. Although he wasn't certain of the destination, it wasn't an insane asylum - excuse me, rehabilitation center - which made this trip just that much better. He didn't mind being blindfolded and led blindly through the house. They did worse things to you on "the inside" as he liked to call it. Most people thought he'd been in prison (white collar crime, of course) and some people actually preferred that idea to his supposed insanity. It wasn't something he was necessarily willing to try considering the kind of company he was supposed to be keeping over the next year. There would even be a murderer or two loose, he had heard. Oh. He was one of them. That was right. The difference was that most murderers thought they were justified and Christian was.
He listened to the voice recording on the other line and took the time to survey his room. The room itself was uninteresting though he did appreciate the fact that it was clean and uncluttered. After checking the computer, he appreciated it even more as it seemed all the rooms were designed differently. He counted his suits and took a quick shower to rinse the hotel room they'd put him in off. He selected something more casual than his usual attire: a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves tucked into some nice pin-striped charcoal jeans. He left the jacket off. He wanted to seem approachable to his new housemates. He spent a little more time fixing his hair and then running his fingers through it to destroy whatever style he'd already done to it.
Now, he supposed it was time to explore the area. He placed his room key in the nightstand by his bed and left the door unlocked. No need to be the kind that seemed like he was fussy about his belongings. At least not until he got a better read on his new friends. He saw a blonde head belonging to a person disappear into a room. Following after her, he heard more voices on the inside. It seemed like there was a party going on and he was late to it. How distressing. Putting on a small smile, he placed his right hand in the pocket of his pants and strolled in casually. He surveyed the room quickly (three females including the little blonde he'd seen and one man that looked like he'd actually been in prison...quite possibly several times and for reasons that were most probably not white collar). He smiled at everyone present, acknowledging the other man first with a small nod. "Bonjour," he greeted, French accent still somewhat present, easy smile on his face. He stood with the sort of casualness only the French could really pull off (in his mind) that the rest of the world hated his country for.