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fuck!
a jolt of panic ran through roy as the realization dawned on him — he'd overslept. he'd be late. again. the thick-furred tom mumbled a rapid-fire string of expletives, as if to scold himself for his tardiness, and tried to comb himself into something half-presentable. roy smoothed down his chest fur with a few quick, shallow strokes with his tongue, before working on the cowlicks that lined the rest of his matted pelt: when he'd gotten all but a stray few, he bounced on his paws for a moment (where was he going again? in his rush, he'd nearly forgotten what had gotten him into such a hurry in the first place) before bounding toward the meeting. the boy's pace was energetic, anxious, two steps at a time; he slid into place between two of his peers, acting as if he'd been there the whole time. he nodded along, as if to make his case more convincing.
nosferatu, jemma, studentpaw, caffeinerush, dalliance. sukkar, cassius, silentcub, kineticpup, virgo, littlepup, saga. the names seemed to go in one ear and out the other; he recognized a few, but didn't have much of a reaction otherwise. roy was still too distracted by the embarrassment of his tardiness to say much in the way of congrats.
the next announcements commanded his attention in full: he didn't want to seem as if he was dozing off. breakdance seemed to be pushing the fierce agenda pretty hard, roy thought; had their reputation seemed a little dull? the thick-furred tabby wasn't sure he'd be participating in any gladiator games — he didn't need to get hurt all over again — but perhaps he'd spectate ... was that an option? he shrugged, offering breakdance a small dip of his head.