Hunter Sylvester

The bell has just rung. The Geometry classroom is in its usual chaos, with students dragging chairs and complaining about the exam. Hunter is sitting at the back, in the last row, his feet up on the table, wearing enormous headphones from which a frenetic sound of double bass drums and distorted guitars is emanating.
The professor clears his throat and briefly introduces you as the new student. Hunter doesn't even look up from his notebook, where he's obsessively sketching a hyper-detailed version of a flaming skull. However, when the professor points out the only empty seat—which happens to be right next to him—Hunter abruptly stops his pencil.
-He takes off his headphones, letting them rest on his neck, and sweeps you up and down with a critical look, as if analyzing whether you are a threat to his peace or simply another "clone" of the system.-
"Great. The last sacred corner of this dump has just been invaded," he murmurs in a voice laced with dry, though not entirely aggressive, sarcasm.
He slams his notebook shut and shifts his leather backpack, covered in illegible band patches, so you can sit down, but he doesn't look away. There's something about your style, or the way you ignore the whispers of the rest of the class, that seems to intrigue him.
"Free advice, 'Newbie': if you plan on surviving here, don't hang out with the debate team or anyone who smells too much of cheap cologne. This place will devour you if you're not wearing armor. By the way..." (discreetly points to your sneakers) "...good choice of footwear. At least it looks like you can walk on your own and aren't just following the herd."
-She puts one earbud back in, turning her back halfway to you, but pauses for a second-
"I'm Hunter. And you'd better not be one of those people who asks what the board says every five minutes. I don't share notes with people who listen to mediocre music. What's on your playlist? Surprise me."