It was cool. Not cold, per se, but definitely cool. His sinuses were swollen a bit every morning, head stuffy, throat dry. He was warm blooded, but his reptile ancestors has gifted him with less-than-efficient temperature regulation. He rolled off of his stomach to put his feet on the floor and sat up. Maybe it was because of the shell, or just old instincts, but he couldn't stand sleeping on his back. The sharp edges on the shell and tail spines tended to rip his sheets anyway so sleeping on his belly was probably for the best anyway. The stuffiness in his head cleared almost instantly as his scaled feet slapped the laminate wood floor. He yawned, the inside of his gaping mouth the same mottled green and brown as the rest of him, with exception of the little, lure like hot pink tongue. His mouth snapped shut, with a deep, heavy thud, like tree snapping in a heavy wind or a bookcase falling upstairs, the kind that reverberates through your insides and makes your spine tingle. He finally opened his eyes and took his phone as he stood up, a little shaky on his thick legs, and trudged out into the hallway to the bathroom. He didn't bother turning a light on, the dull orange coming through the window did well enough for him. He took the broad, rough brush and some beak polish and went to brushing. It wasn't optimal by any means, most products for beaks are aimed towards birds after all, but it was good enough to clean and put a good shine on. He gargled mouthwash and spat it out, with the morning breath out of his mouth he finally checked his messages. A few returned Skope, Stream, and Discard messages later and he was in the shower. His chest and stomach was much smoother than the rest of him as the plastron had over time become much softer except for the pectoral plates which analogized the ribcage and of mammals. The shift to upright had led to most of the internal structures evolving to the standard anthropomorphic form, with a little bit of added muscular and bone support to handle the massive weight of the shell and to a lesser extent the plastron. He dried himself, his body shedding water easily, and pulled out a second towel, one that had been worn quite smooth. He smeared a big dab on it and went to polishing his hard parts, mostly just his shell and head. In absence of having hair or anything like that, combined with his species muddy camouflage coloration, he always felt plain, but a little shine helped a tiny bit if nothing else. He stopped as he was finally happy with himself, and took his phone to his room. He threw his student uniform on, a tie, and a Gamecock lapel pin. He didn't like being barred from baseball caps or his old hoody, but if this was all he could do, it would have to. His lunch and books in an exceedingly old, large laptop bag, along with his own exceedingly old, large laptop, sitting in the passenger seat. He thought his car was cool. It was fast and luxurious in 1989, but not as much now. The sunburnt paint didn't help it much. Or that one headlight was up and the other down. That the mirror had fallen out of the passenger side rear view. He had the kit to fix both of those problems. “I should fix that today…” he muttered to himself as he started it. It took a good 3 turns to crank over. He needed a new starter motor soon. It needed new motors for the windows and roof too, or new switches, he wasn't sure yet. He had put a new radio in it though, and the bluetooth in his phone mated to his car, and the sounds of mid-90s eurobeat filled the 1989 Prelude. -------------------- His claws clicked away on his keyboard as he took his notes and talked to his friends via messengers. Dollalala: You still liking school? Dollalala: that teacher still being a bitch? Hardtop: Yeah, it's not bad. Shes kind of bitchy to everyone so its ok. Its actually funny sometimes. Hardtop: She actually like cares about some of us i think Dollalala: ok then. Im still like, going to catholic so it cant be much worse Hardtop: yeah no Dollalala: made any friends yet? Hardtop: nah… you know how it is. Talking to people. Stuff… Dollalala: what about the slug? Didnt you say something about…? Hardtop: yeah no… shes… quiet. Doesnt want to be bothered, you know? Dollalala: TALK TO HERRRRRRRRRRR Hardtop: Lala, come on Hardtop: shes a super pretty girl Hardtop: shes smart Hardtop: shes quiet Dollalala: shes not like other girls(™) Hardtop: its not like that Dollalala: youre not as cute as michael cera Hardtop: -_- Dollalala: youre not as annoying either tho Hardtop: i have trouble buying thay Dollalala: come on you like her she doesnt seem to have many friends either Dollalala: she seems wierd too Dollalala: plus like shes all cartilage Dollalala: squishy Dollalala: she might be able to handle the whole yknow Hardtop: lala Dollalala: giant fuccin uh.. Hardtop: lala no Dollalala: monstrous turtledong Hardtop: nooooooooooooo Dollalala: dont slugs have both anyway? Like, big huge woerd ones? Hardtop: yeah Dollalala: OOOOOOH Hardtop: I MEAN Hardtop: SOME DO Dollalala: You’ve done RESEARCH Hardrop: lala no Dollalala: INTO SLUG STUFF Hardtop: im gonna fuckin die Hardtop: right here in class Dollalala: OMG ---------------------- He didn't talk to her that day. The opportunity didn’t present itself. He came straight inside after school and cooked dinner, watching stuff on his laptop. He went to his room and ate, watching things on his PC. He showered again and only then remembered to fix his car. He told himself he’d do it tomorrow and put on a podcast before going to sleep.