head in the clouds but my gravity's cenetered (bren)

It was about midday, and Scott had done nothing productive so far. In fact, the boy was still in bed. Although he had gotten up and made the bed and put on clothes, however he was still lying on top of the sheets, staring up at the ceiling of his small cabin. He wore khaki cargo shorts with a striped muscle-shirt on which there were stripes of various shades of green and various widths.

A small growling noise interrupted his thoughts. At first, he thought it was a growl from one of his cabin mate's dogs. However, when he sat up he found himself empty in the confined room. He slid forward on his bed so that his feet touched the ground. Again, the growling sound. Scott looked down. It was his stomach. A smile caught on his face, and he began to laugh. He loved to laugh.

The boy got up out of the bed and traveled across the room to the door, where his flip-flops were waiting. He slipped his feet into them, and then exited his room. He traveled down a narrow hallway to the front entrance of his sunlit cabin wrapped in all sorts of vegetation. He pushed open the front door and entered the sunny realm outside. He loved to go outside, but the days were getting hotter as the months progressed and he wasn't acclimated to the heat quite yet. Nevertheless, on the sunny day that day he had left his reclusive bubble.

Setting out for the Mess Hall, Scott observed various sweaty campers in various sweaty clothes. Armor strapped, dark stains under their arms, and hair dripping with drops of perspiration. It almost made Scott feel bad for being so lazy. Almost. Scott wasn't a fighter, so he hardly did any training. Most of the time he hung in the strawberry fields, perfecting his magic of bringing life and growth to the plants. Or simply eating.

Scott's trip to the mess hall, however, was cut a little bit short. As he rounded the edge of the horseshoe of cabins, he collided with someone, sending both of them sprawling back into the grass. Scott landed on his tail. The girl across from him did the same. Pain riddled Scott's spine, but it was not too bad. He was more concerned about the other person, feeling quite bad for knocking her over.

"No, no, please don't worry about me," he laughed, lightheartedly. He took the hand she offered and stood up. He rubbed his backside. "Besides, how much flatter could my ass get anyway?" he chuckled. Scott was pretty much famous for making lame jokes to diffuse the tension. Even if they were at his own expense, it typically made others feel easier. "The fault is mine. I'm Scott. Sorry about that," he apologized, bowing dramatically and kissing her hand, which he still held even after she had already helped him stand. After doing so, he released it and stood to face her. "And who are you?" he inquired, eyes twinkling.