A decorated school gymnasium. It was an almost painful reminder of all of those high school dances where Dimitri been forced to go by his mother or friends. Only here there was no groping or making out and no one was crying about being dumped halfway through the slow dances. No one was sneaking in alcohol -- to the best of his knowledge -- and there were people in dressier clothing. People in college or university or with jobs. Families. Businesses. And he hadn't been Dmitri Frey, then. He had never understood how their school did 'class' reunions, either. There was no inviting the graduating class of a certain year, no, it was just whoever had graduated who wanted to come. Then again, that was probably just because he hadn't come the past few years, too busy with his own life, with change. He would have felt awkward coming here, knowing that people would apply his birth name to him and would ask question that would have made him more uncomfortable. Now he knew that there would be uncomfortable questions but he also knew how to deal with them, if they came up... that all in mind, he straightened the waistcoat he wore overtop of a rather casual button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He hadn't even bothered with dress pants, though the jeans we wore weren't ripped or distressed. What they got him to wear for photo shoots versus what he wore regularly wasn't all that different, except in price (well, except what he was given in return for doing certain ads, but that was besides the point). But he knew better than to show up like that, here, now. If he was going to recieve surprised looks anyways, he might as well look at least a little bit put together when he did so. Which was why, as he crossed the room, he wasn't entirely surprised for someone to stop him, asking was he really -- yes, he was -- and 'Diedre? -- not anymore -- and 'wow, you've... changed' -- I know, before hewas allowed to continue. He wasn't sure whether hewas looking for someone specific. He didn't even know if there was anyone here who he knew who he would want to talk to at all, much less for any period of time about how things had 'changed'. He knew he was different, he didn't need to be told that.