Welcome to Gaia! ::

She couldn't help but laugh outright. "Yeah, there's a bit of a difference, mainly because one is real and all that jazz. Would you like to ride with me sometime though?" The question was posed seriously, and she glanced at him before returning to her knife work. "I mean, once it warms up and all, obviously."

Until then she had to just use the car.

"I think I have an extra helmet lying around in the garage." Tourma commented a moment later absently, and more to herself.

Once she finished her chopping, she gathered the brown rice for the rice cooker and began to set that up. "So what exactly do you do other than work and play video games?" She asked, finally gathering up the nerve to intrude a little more forcefully into his habits with her innate curiosity.

With the rice started, Tourma reached for the last of the vegetables and began to cut up the broccoli into smaller trees while she listened to him. Most of what he said didn't really penetrate past that he was online a lot and completing some odd task. "Oh, so you're online because you get paid to kill..." She tried to remember something that attacked other people on computers. "...Viruses?"

No wonder he had no other friends, all he did was work!

"Well, no wonder you look tired and sick, you're working yourself to death! You should go out dancing one night or something. I know the names of a few good ones with great music and hot girls if you'd like." Feeling as though she had just given fantastic advice, the teen beamed to herself.

As she mentioned dancing, she realized that the kitchen was totally silent save their chopping, and she immediately reached over to where she had left her iPod in the speaker dock to charge. Scrolling through for a moment, she finally settled on "FutureSex/LoveSound" by Justin Timberlake.

Technically she wasn't allowed to dance, but it was her kitchen and she'd do what she wanted. And so, with apparent ease and flavor, Tourma continued her kitchen work to the beat of the music. Even her tail seemed to be a natural at dancing.

"Depends on the club and the district," she replied, shrugging somewhat. "There are the tiny specialized clubs that only play local house DJs, or your more mainstream top 40 kind of music in many of the larger ones. There's also hip-hop, trance, jazz... I even made my way out to this industrial dive bar once..."

Tourma ceased chopping and shook her head while wearing a smirk. "You'd have thought Richard Simmons had dropped into a funeral when I showed up." Ironically enough, she was able to stay and have a great night because the DJ spinning was a friend of hers. That and her splash (or hurricane) of color seemed to be a source of constant amusement and picture taking to the other club goers.

Returning to the iPod, she scrolled through until she found the artist she had been looking for, DJ Tiesto. "This genius was introduced to me recently, and this is actually one of his live sets." She clasped a hand to her heart and closed her eyes, letting the music envelop her for a moment.

When she opened her eyes, she appeared almost refreshed, as if a very effective power nap had just ensued. "Chances are if you can dance to it, I have a place in my heart for it. Except country... There's a very small sampling of that genre that doesn't make me want to shoot hunting dogs and light tractors on fire."

((Sidenote: This is the song I had in mind, and it's amazing.))

"Clearly, we are both seriously missing out on a delicate, high class cultural experience." She sighed deeply and hung her head in mock shame for a moment, but perked up as a familiar part of the song caused her to begin bouncing to the beat.

Luckily, the knife was no longer in her hand at that point and she had kept a safe distance from the one in Ken's hand.

Glancing over to Ken, she shot him an incredulous look when he didn't mirror her actions. "How can you not be dancing?!" She exclaimed loudly. Still bouncing dangerously, Tourma plucked the knife from his hand, set it on the counter, and dragged him to a more open area of the kitchen.

Particularly away from anything sharp, hot, or otherwise dangerous.

"I promise I'll start cooking after this song," she said absently before upping her bounces to highly energetic jumping, in case he was reluctant because of a male hunger alarm of sorts. In a club full of people, she may have fit in, but regardless of her rhythm and natural grace, dancing like this looked just a wee bit out of place.

This sort of action happened to be quite normal in her mind, however.

"Don't be That Guy." That's all she said to him. As he had guessed, Tourma was in her own beautiful world where worries and responsibilities didn't exist.

When her eyes opened again, she almost missed a beat as she caught sight of Ken 'dancing'. Instead of laughing, she simply grinned wide and grabbed his hands with hers to at least get him hitting the underlying beat. Kind of.

The violin picked up its slower solo, and she stopped bouncing in favor of allowing her body to flow with the music. Once more, the Skullmonkey found herself with her eyes closed and oblivious to the world around her except for the music. Well... Almost.

Out of habit, she slid her hands to help guide the seemingly dance retarded Ken. "Use your big ears to listen and your heart to feel it," she murmured languidly before pulling her hands away again to slip into the music once more.

Tourma had lost track of time during the track, so that even though she knew the set, the sudden switch from Tiesto to Blackmore's Night, a Celtic band, was evidently jarring in both her mindset and her body. In fact, she had even forgotten just how terribly he had 'danced,' for now.

Blushing slightly after coming to her senses, she offered a lopsided smile. "I poofed into my own world... Didn't I?" Tourma asked Ken while making her way back into the kitchen to actually start cooking with the wok.

"If you don't like this you can change the song," she said over her shoulder while she began cooking the vegetables. Carrots and broccoli first, then peppers, and finally onions and mushrooms.

"No, what's that?" Her voice was muffled by the door of the refrigerator, where she was currently searching for a bottle of sauce. Reappearing moments later with bottle in hand, an inquisitive glance was sent his way.

It never ceased to amaze her how different other people were and how much she still didn't seem to know about. Hopefully, this DDR wasn't something terribly important, like a form for taxes or something.

Turning back to the cooking, the sauce was added and stirred in before the lid was replaced and the heat turned off. "Dinner's done!" She chirped cheerfully with her hands proudly on her hips.