Pah! This school was pointless! So he was supposed to learn how to control his gift while at this school? That was silly! Lev could fly and that was about all he could do. There was no point in his coming to a school for other gifted students to learn something so simple. Flying was easy, he just had to learn how to control coming off the ground and how far he hovered. Sure, he hovered unnecessarily when he was the most content, but he could learn to control that. There was no need for him to be here.
But still his father dropped him off at the front gates, told him to behave himself, and then left without another goodbye. Anton Volkov wasn't the best at showing his love but he wanted to make sure his son was happy and well so he had dropped him off personally. As usual Lev had stormed from the car, thrown his hands on his hips, and demanded he be brought home immediately. Despite his age, Lev was basically a twelve year old in a fifteen year olds body. He spoke, acted, and thought like someone three years his junior. Anton had never seen him act mature, though anyone who knew Lev very well knew he could be extremely mature if the situation called for it.
Still, he was a twelve year old for the time being and, as Anton drove away, Lev huffed a sigh, crossed his arms over his chest, and took a look around. It looked like home, just a little bit. Granted home was smaller and constantly covered in snow, this was still kind of like home. The small Russian teen grabbed his suitcase off the ground where his father had left it and heaved it toward the gates. His upper arm strength left much to be desired and Lev half limped toward the gate with his bag in tow. Now where was it he was supposed to go? His father had said something about the main office, but the small boy had no idea where that was. So the first thing he did once he was inside the gates was set down his bags, throw his hands onto his hips and demand, rather loudly, in a thick, Russian accent: "Does anyone know where the office is?"