Table Three Who: Abel, Lark, Mack, Nate When: Day 9; half past 8pm Where: The Ballroom
At eight o'clock, Nate had been startled by a chime loud and clear in his room. It was a good thing it had alerted him it was time for dinner, because he had been so wrapped up in a book that the time had escaped his notice entirely. After a few moments of debate, he finished the chapter and then rolled off of his bed, not even bothering to glance at himself in the mirror before heading downstairs. As such, Nate showed up to the dinner wearing a worn baseball-style cap with the Union Jack sewn on the front, a red and black checkered t-shirt, and baggy black bondage pants. His sweatbands of the day were black and embroidered with one red star each, which Nate kept turned in toward his body.
He was impressed by what he saw, but didn't have the sense to feel underdressed. The food drew him immediately, and before he even chose a seat he went to pile a plate high with anything that looked the best to him. It was only when he was balancing a dish and a soup bowl in either hand that he noticed there were names at every place. At first he was thinking of ignoring the assigned seats entirely, but it occurred to him that the scientists might have put him with people he would want to talk to, so he went in search of his own. When he noticed he was seated between Mack and Lark, Nate was glad he had waited it out. The other name was Abel, one that he'd probably heard before, but didn't remember.
None of his other tablemates had shown up yet, but that didn't stop him from sitting down and digging in. Eating alone wasn't anything new to him, and it wasn't like he had much willpower to resist food that smelled heavenly. The taste didn't disappoint either, and he actually had to pause after his first bite to wonder at how something could taste so good. Whatever happened that night, Nate had already labeled it a success. His tastebuds were too happy not to.