Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Hello, Madame! May I speak with you for a moment?" The rainbow-haired child waved at a passing woman, who paused for a moment before deciding to walk over to him. Before she could speak, Quinn jumped into a fast-talking frenzy. "Well, you see, Madame, I'm raising money for the guacomoleturtleorangejuice fund, and I was wondering if you'd like to participate in a little game of ours we set up for charity!" The woman, having no idea what sort of 'fund' he was talking about, heard charity and decided to be a noble woman and donate to whatever his cause was. Quinn produced a jar with a coin slit at the top, and motioned to a piece of paper taped to the front that said 50 cents. The lady deposited a dollar, no doubt feeling selfless and proud of herself, before looking back at Quinn. He grinned.

"Now, Madame, that gives you two tries at the game. Not one, but two. So! Here's the game," He pulled out the traditional three-cups-and-a-ball scam, "Find the ball, and get the ball! Beautiful golden color, as you can see, made of rubber, bounces the best in all of The City!" The lady frowned. This game was the oldest trick in the book, and she didn't come to The Scene to get scammed. But she reminded herself that it was for charity, and nodded. Quinn began to mix them. He obviously wasn't very good at doing so quickly, and she grinned inwardly, knowing that she knew where the ball was. Glancing around nervously, the godling popped a small star in front of her eyes, blinding her for a moment, completely rearranging the cups in the process.

Once the woman's eyes had readjusted to being able to see, she pointed to the middle one. Quinn lifted it up, and there was nothing. He lifted up the one on the left and dropped the ball into his hand. "Sorry, miss, we can't all be winners! Thank you for your contribution to the guacamoleturtleorangejuice fund!" He grinned cutely, and waved her on her way. He checked his bucket. So far, he had about fifteen dollars. Not bad, for a day's work.

He glanced around more, and was dazzled by the lights around him. The Scene was so exciting, so...perfect for him! He dropped down into the chair and waited for someone who looked innocent to pass by, or for someone to come up interested. He wanted desperately to go explore some more, but he didn't want to quit until he had at least twenty dollars.

Tell me again why we're waiting for twenty dollars, when you could be out working towards our future?
Chocolate! I'm almost out, and twenty dollars will restock me.
How much chocolate can one child eat?! You have the stomach of a black hole.

Quinn didn't look up while closing his jar and setting it behind the small table, but he spoke anyway. "I wouldn't know what you're talking about, sir, but if you're interested in donating to the-" He cut himself off as he looked up. He cocked his head to one side, and squinted. "Huh. You look like one of my friends. You know a guy named Writ?" Quinn, while waiting for his answer, pulled out his jar and pushed it up to the man. "Nevermind, look, do you want to donate to charity? You get to play a game and win a pretty ball!"

Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that it WAS Writ. He looked...different, older, but sitll looked like him. The boy was fascinated, but money was most important right now. The chocolate was waiting!

"We also accept chocolate bars as donations."

"Sure," He grinned, and held up the ball. It was a regular, golden bouncy ball. "Just a silly ball. Let's do this. I'm not that great at this, but you know...people pay before they play, and these balls are just a quarter each," He began shuffling the cups after putting a ball under one of them. He shuffled them around slowly, pushing them around the table.

He made sure writ was following his movements closely, then snapped his fingers to pop a star in front of Writ's eyes, continuing to make shuffly noises and dropping one into his hand and then his pocket before the boy could blink his vision back. Or at least, that was the plan. He got the star out, and was shuffling them, but the ball fell off the table and started bouncing down the road.

"Ahh! My ball!" He chased after it and leapt on top of it, grabbing it in his hands, but falling on the street and scraping the side of his face. "Ow..." He got up slowly, and trudged back over to his station. "Do you have a bandaid or something?"

He sniffed, and his eyes teared up. "I'm fine. Totally fine," he turned his head away from Writ and rubbed at his tears, "Sorry about that. I'm usually...better. Heh, I just realized. My ball is like that story my Mom told me once. The Frog Prince, I think?" He tossed it up and caught it again, his eyes having cleared up. "I think I'll be okay. Just a little scraped."

He began to pack up all of his stuff, setting it next to the table, except for his bucket of money. He glanced at Writ again. "You ARE Writ, aren't you? How did you get so...Big? Old? You were already older than me. Now I feel really small." He looked sadly at the ground. "How come my best friend is so much older than me?

"... A giant bear? Really? I'm sure," He said sarcastically, and then thought about it some more. "Naked?" Quinn gave a wierd look to Writ. "Why?" He shook his head. "You know, nevermind. I don't really want to know."

He paused.

"No, but seriously, NAKED? And without food?" To illustrate the point, he pulled out a chocolate bar and waved it. "I couldn't do that. You're ridiculous. Wierdo!" He laughed.

"All I've done recently is hang out here. Kind of uneventful. Jerk, with your exciting life."

"Your god? How could you beat him with a barstool without, like...making bad stuff happen?" Quinn questioned weakly, losing track of the sentence halfway through. "And at least some clothes are better than none! It sounds like you did lots of great things! I didn't know you were that strong. A bear! Wow." Quinn quietly mused that the last things he'd beaten were some eggs, for his mom's breakfast. He needed some excitement, and he was looking anywhere he could for it.

"You want this chocolate bar? I have lots of them. And anyone who can hit a god with a bar stool deserves some chocolate!" He giggled and tossed it in Writ's direction. "Well, I'm glad you're safe. Too much desert-bear hunting can get you killed, you know!"

"I hope my hand doesn't get infected," He muttered, looking at the scrape, "'Cause that would hurt." It only barely occured to him how petty that sounded compared to bear-hunting naked in a desert with no food.

"I hope so." He kicked at the gravel on the ground for a minute, then blinked. "Oh, dang! I forgot to buy groceries today!" He smacked his own forehead, then looked apologetically at Writ.

"I should probably go buy food, and take it home. I'll see you soon though, right?"