Welcome to Gaia! ::

Early that morning, a boy at Hillworth had climbed up onto the sink in the community bathroom so that he could reach the cheap paneled roof. Apparently, he had hidden his cigarettes up there, something that -- as a 15 year old -- he was not allowed to have at school. This boy must not have been terribly small, or perhaps the sink was simply that old, but for whatever reason, the sink could not handle the pressure. It snapped with a ceramic crack! showering a flurry of white plaster to the scuffed bathroom floor. The sink buckled forward, sending the boy falling to the ground, but the pipes held, stopping the sink before it could collapse on top of him. It didn't stop them from spurting water -- a giant hissing stream of it ricocheting up to the roof and soaking the entire bathroom in mere moments. The boy scrambled to the exit, disappearing out the door.

He nearly collided with Parker. The dark-haired boy gave the younger kid an aggravated glare, slipping past him and into the bathroom. He took one look at the brand new indoor sprinkler system and spun on his heel to leave. But it was too late. Two administrators burst into the bathroom, the larger of the pair immediately pinning Parker to the wall. They screamed at him until he wondered if his ears might bleed, swearing he'd have to work off the debt of replacing the sink every day for the next six months. Four years of this nonsense had taught Parker to say nothing. He always got blamed. No one ever believed him. Sigh. To add insult to injury, the boy who escaped had left the cigarettes behind, and so Parker got nailed with the blame for that too.

Dying to get out of the school after adding bag after bag of manure to all the gardens across the campus (Who knew Hillworth had gardens!), Parker slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and slipped away, signing his name out while the security guard wasn't looking. No way they would report him if it looked like they had let him out. But where to go? He wasn't big on malls -- lots of annoying people -- and he wasn't really in the mood to shop. Taking the subway to the center of town, Parker decided to grab a bite to eat at the edge of one of the vibrant parks dotting Destiny City. The town council wanted to clean up their image and so they paid thousands and thousands of dollars to ship in all this special grass and trees.

Still... it was kind of nice-looking. At any rate, there was a cool breeze that filtered through that area, and there was a coffee shop with an outdoor terrace that had amazing espresso and sandwiches. After picking up a coffee and some kind of herb-riddled chicken sandwich, Parker grabbed at seat as far from other people as he could. It was small table right next to one of the jogging paths. Truth be told, Parker didn't mind the view. A lot of high school girls hung out here since it was relatively close to Meadowview, and though Parker would never actually attempt to make contact, he didn't mind it when they bounced past him. He was an eighteen year old boy, after all.

Slipping a hand into his bag, he pulled out his tiny laptop. He'd tried to steampunk it earlier that week, but he'd used a cheap brassy paint. It was already coming off in flakes. He tsked over it for a moment before starting up the laptop and pulling up a blank word file. With no one near him, he figured it was as safe a spot as any to work on his latest blog as The Proletariat Provost.

Perhaps he should have stayed home in his bedroom on the computer.

Parker lifted his chin to the sweaty-teen who'd just identified herself as "Dani" and touched at the side of his coffee. Had she... was he...? What in all of Destiny City made her stop and talk to him of all people? Across the restaurant, there was a buff looking guy swallowing down whole sandwiches in a single bite. Didn't athletic girls like her want a guy like him? Parker was squishy. He didn't like to run, though he did it constantly at Hillworth. "Dammit, take a lap!" was a phrase that Parker heard multiple times a day. He had no idea if they were attempting to pronounce his last name or simply cursing at him, but either way, he ran. And ran. And ran. The idea that someone might do it for fun was baffling to the boy.

Almost as baffling as having a completely attractive girl stop to talk to him.

"It is supposed to rain this evening," he said, fingertips tapping on his coffee mug. Parker stared down at her hand. Part of him wanted to refuse it, but it would only make the situation more awkward. So he reached out and shook, feeling the sweaty underside of her palm touch his. "I'm Parker," he said, feeling it customary.

A normal person would have asked a follow-up question, but Parker just kind of stared at Dani. She had initiated the conversation, after all. It was her job to lead it. Reaching for his coffee, Parker bumped his messenger bag off the table. It fell to the ground with a thud, spilling out two thick philosophy texts, one moleskin journal, his wallet, and a smattering of pens. "Oh," he said, breaking his eye contact with her and getting out of his seat to pick up his things.

He seemed so overdressed compared to her in dark jeans, a green cotton shirt, and his wrist brace. His jacket had been moderately steampunked. The zipper was lined with little gears so that when it was unzipped they would turn. A few random belts gathered it in the back. It was a cool-looking jacket honestly, but it looked new, very new. Parker didn't quite wear it naturally; it seemed a little big. He picked up his books first, placing them gingerly on the table.

Oh, he had surveyed the impressive bust. He was just incredibly stealthy.

Parker didn't thank Dani for helping him, but he took the pens with a slight head nob, popping them back into his bag and placing it in the chair beside him. He wasn't sure if Dani intended on continuing the conversation again, but when she did, his eyes flickered briefly to the laptop. He hadn't written much, just the names of a few philosopher's whose theories he might like to do a blog piece on. First, he'd need a story to frame it -- hopefully something about a girl from Crystal Academy. Privileged princesses sucking the life out of the city, that's what they were. They'd probably never worked a single day in their lives, never had to feel loss or strain. They could just cuddle their money. The thoughts made one eyebrow come down, narrowed, but he relaxed it, listening quietly to Dani.

"There is a quote by Einstein," he began, immediately at ease in the subject. "He said, 'A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us... Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.' He was talking about people-watching, if not in so many words." A hot stream of steam wisped off his coffee. It was approaching autumn, but the day was not particularly cool, despite Parker's hot beverage and choice of dress.

He lifted the coffee to his lips and took a sip, tongue dragging over the deep scar running from his lip to his nostril. "I think he was too flowery with the last line, but it's... an interesting statement." And one that he would gladly discuss at length! It was apparently his way of breaking the ice because he suddenly jumped back to Dani's earlier question. "I'm here fairly often, but never at this time." He nodded, and then looked up to her. She would volunteer the information about herself if she wanted.

"Einstein is a pretty direct thinker," he said, shrugging. There were far wordier philosophers to choose from, and Parker thought it was all quite obvious and direct what he was saying, at least to his ears. Taking another sip at his coffee, he reached one hand out to drag his sandwich closer to him as Dani climbed over. Looked like she was really intent on impeding his work. The girl wasn't kidding about being direct. And Parker was quite passive. Hm.

His eyes followed her as she reached for the laptop, his mind fighting the urge to scream out, "MINE!" and snatch it away. He'd build the tiny little thing himself. It was quite easily hidden in a hollowed out book too. His chest tensed when she reached for it, a bit nervous she might spin it around. He hadn't written anything that would give him away, but he didn't like the idea of a stranger poking around on it. When she pointed to the paint, he softened, reaching a hand up to push the monitor down, snapping it shut.

"Yes," he said, flaking away the paint where she had shown restraint. "I am contemplating steampunking it, replacing the keyboard with one designed to look like a typewriter. I was testing out a color scheme... It was not a good choice." He pursed his lips, annoyed with himself. He could build a damn computer, but he couldn't paint it with something that would stick? Sigh. "Do you know anything about good paints to use on weather-treated metals?" Parker had made his laptop like a battleship, more alloy parts than plastic. It made the thing very, very heavy, and the little definition Parker had in his arms was from lugging it around -- and all the rope-climbing he was punished with at school. He glanced up to Dani. She didn't seem like a Crystal girl, he thought, and then glanced back to the peeling paint.

Parker wasn't the touchy-feely type, but he didn't shy away when Dani reached for him. He just kind of looked at her hand. Parker might be able to fix computers, build clocks, and disarm tiny little mechanical things (say, a car alarm?), but he was still getting the hang of steampunk fashion. It would be easier to just buy some stuff already made, but Parker worked hard for his money. Each dime he made was pretty much already spent on something critical -- like his own health insurance. If he could make it, then he would. End of story. Even if it didn't look so great.

"I just started to work on this. I need to age the material. I like... intricate things. This is too simple." It was true. Parker loved computers for their complexity, and when he admired clothing, it was typically because there was something exceptionally complex going on under the guise of simplicity. He had drooled over a vest he found online made entirely of woven fan belts. From a distance, it looked like an intricate fabric, but up close, you could see that it was just a skillfully arranged collection of everyday parts. That was the beauty of steampunk to him. It took the everyday, the ignored, the worthless... and made it something wonderful. He wasn't about share these poetic pontifications with this stranger though. He hardly knew her. "The zipper took a long time. The gear have to be able to pivot. I tried to string, but it would break. So I fixed tiny rods into the material and then attached the gear, like a wheel and axle." As if to explain it further, he slapped one finger on a gear, and it spun smoothly in a circle. It was easy for him to talk about his work. He didn't like to broadcast it to the Hillworth boys, but he doubted Dani was a thread to that protection.

He shrugged at her suggestion. "I can look it up later," he said. He had only asked because she showed interest. He thought she might have a suggestion. Parker was perfectly capable of surfing the internet on his own time. He fell back into silence, flaking off more of the paint. "I go to Hillworth," he said at last. It seemed like a warning, a test maybe? It was as if he were presenting that information out of the blue to see just how she would react.

"I made this too," he said, tapping at his laptop. Parker wasn't bragging, just stating the truth. It was a hell of a lot more impressive than the jacket at any rate. His hand curled around the coffee cup, and he tipped it to his lips, the bitter liquid easing his throat. He'd eat his sandwich eventually, probably once the girl was gone.

It wasn't often that Parker interacted with women. He wasn't afraid of them; he didn't avoid them. But Hillworth was all boys -- and he didn't have any childhood friends to speak of. Most of the girls that were his friends were people he had met online. His most serious relationship so far had been with a girl that he only ever talked to through a forum they were a part of, and then she ended it when she found out he was only fifteen at the time. He'd kissed two girls. One was his junior high girlfriend. The other was a drunk girl who wandered into the mall on a dare and kissed the first boy she saw.

Neither had been particularly memorable.

So when Dani complimented him, Parker was not sure how to take it. "It's a little too big," he said, not accepting the compliment. He shifted in the jacket, tugging at one side.

Her reaction to the Hillworth comment was good. And it was even better that she was not a Crystal girl. Nothing put him in a fouler mood than to watch a princess wave her money and undeserved superiority in front of him. Part of him felt the urge to laugh when Dani asked about sports. He was... not an athlete. And he could care less about a bunch of idiots running around and beating the crap out each other under the guise of a game. "I know a bit about baseball," he said. He knew it because of his dad, but he had no plan on bringing that up. No thank you. "I don't go to games. And I don't play. They tried to make me once, but I was no good on a team." It was lacrosse. When he was a freshman, his height convinced them that -- if probably bulked up -- he could be a formidable foe. Parker instead got accused of picking fights with his teammates, and eventually, after receiving numerous a**-kickings, the school kicked him off, which was really just as well.

The only sport he cared about now was debate. "Is there... some game coming up?" he asked. It seemed like Dani was referencing a particular sporting event, but Parker hardly kept track of it. Sometimes they were all forced to go support the team, but Parker usually got in trouble before them. He'd get stuck on trash-duty, running the concession stand, or otherwise doing manual labor. The upside is that the dorms would be basically empty when he got back, a good time to go it alone.

Parker didn't react to Dani's hands on his jacket. It didn't annoy him enough to have her stop, and he didn't like it enough to encourage her. So instead, he did nothing, which was just fine by Parker. He liked his mouth to handle all the effort. "'The doer alone learneth,'" he said, voice slipping into the familiar cadence of a recited quote. "Nietzsche. From this book." He grabbed the smaller of the two books and held it up. He set it back down at the table, taking another sip of his espresso.

He didn't want to dwell on his jacket much longer. It wasn't where he wanted it yet, not nearly up to par, and at Hillworth, your things tended to go missing regularly. If they turned up, they were damaged. But most things never turned up. Parker learned not to be so attached to his belongings -- well, most of them anyway. "I would assume you play sports." He gestured vaguely to the jogging path. "You could always run track. Track doesn't require teamwork. Unless you were on a relay team." Really, if she liked running, it made sense. What on Earth could she be doing that would keep all her time?

"So you have a job," he said, making the assumption. What else could she possibly have that would prevent her from joining a team? Parker lifted the cup to his lips again, taking another sip. This was such an impromptu conversation. Why did she care about what he did? Or what he cared about? Did she plan on forging a friendship? How was that possible? There was a low likelihood that they would even see each other again. He contemplated telling her all of these things, but when weighing the consequences, it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Instead, he said, "Computers. Reading. Drink coffee. Maybe eat a sandwich." One finger tugged at the plate with his sandwich on it, and the other trailed along the edge of his espresso.

Dani was easy to talk to, truth be told. That certainly didn't mean that Parker would be opening up to her at any point, but nothing she said blatantly irritated Parker the way that most people did. She kept the conversation flowing without putting any pressure on Parker -- which he immensely preferred. Certain things, like philosophy or opinions or factual discussions, Parker had no problem discussing, leading the discussion even, but when it came to other details, like family history or feelings or favors, Parker would rather sit in silence. Besides, Dani wasn't a Crystal girl, and she wasn't acting like a total moron -- even if Parker assumed she was a jock and therefore likely not too intelligent. These were all the things that kept Parker talking, his more scathing comments remaining unspoken. It bothered him a bit that she didn't have a job. A good work ethic meant a lot to Parker, especially when a teenager was working for money to support themselves.

"Exercise is important to you," he said, stating the obvious. "Are you concerned for you health? Most of us will die from pre-determined disease or an accident anyway. I never saw the point in it. All the work just to maintain a machine that is destined to break down." He dragged his lips to one corner of his mouth, nodding methodically. Yes, humans were just little meat machines. It was pursuits of the mind that defined us from the animals. Surely one's brief time in this weary world was best spent exercising the muscle in your head. Dani did look good though, for all her effort.

Of course, she was probably just fulfilling a societal demand that, as a woman, she care a lot about her physical appearance. Which made sense, in a way, since women are almost always judged based on appearance above all else. Yes... this was a logical thing for her to do to be a viable member of society. He didn't say anything of his thoughts, just dragged his sandwich back toward him. "I could see you as a cheerleader. You seem... peppy." It didn't sound like an insult. But it didn't sound like a compliment either.

At her nudging, Parker lifted his sandwich, taking a bite. A bit of mayonaise popped out the other side, splattering on his green shirt. "Damn," he said, chalking up the spill to another example of his constant spot on the losing side of chaos theory. He set the sandwich down and picked up his napkin, dabbing at the spot and sighing. They wouldn't be doing laundry at Hillworth until the end of the week. Damn. That meant Parker would be stuck wearing either a stained shirt, or staying in his uniform all day. Neither appealed to him.