During a Storm (Open!)

Samantha blinks at Slyph.

"No," she says, "You did not."

She gestures for him to explain with a small wave of her hand. As she does, her pocket starts buzzing. Clicking her tongue, she pulls out her mobile phone and puts it to her ear.

"Speaking. Yes. No. Didn't feel like it. Whitewoods. Will do. Flounder. Flounder. Good for you. Good. Bye."

She puts her phone back.

"Whenever anyone talks with anyone else, there is an exchange of power. A... a willing one. Cus that's how we make friends." Slyph took a drink of water before continuing.

"If you put me in power, that's spending tokens. Like if you tell me about how your mom is like... I dunno a mafia don or something... that's giving me tokens. And if I tell you how much I hate this one teacher because they were mean to me in freshman year, that's giving you tokens. The severity of the concession determines the number of metaphoric tokens given. When two people exhange tokens equally (kind of like an economy) friendship kind of happen-"

He paused for the phone call, slowly raising an eyebrow in curiousity. Waiting patiently until the call was over, he concealed a smile at the odd sign off.

"Flounder?"
((will fix text color soon!))

"Dinner," Samantha explains, "Grilled."

Grilled by her, that is. Loyal couldn't cook to save her life.

"So is there a teacher that was mean to you in first year?" She asks, wondering about the examples Slyph gave in his lecture on the economics of friendship. Loyal as a mafia don...images of her in a pinstripe suit sitting on an elegant chair...no, leadership just wasn't her.

Nameless knew some 'community leaders' somewhat well, though. All of them were quite friendly in person, actually, albeit with the assurance that they could be extremely unfriendly if forced.

"That's..." Horrifying images of Mrs. 'Old Hag' Haggerty flashed through his mind. His cheeks flushed red. "...Not important!"

He stayed silent for a while. "Okay. Yes. Science."

"She used a dunce cap in class. On me. A lot." Was all he said on the matter.

"But is your mom... adopted mom a mafia don? Or... something like that?" He leaned back and sipped from a glass of water, eyeing her curiously. He didn't know anything about the criminal underworld. Or any underworld, but he had a inquisitive nature, and one that demanded he investigate the odd girl's life. The delicate task in front of him now was to do so without rocking any metaphorical boats.

...

"Too many tokens," Nameless says, darkness slipping into her usually light, careless voice, "Far, far, too many tokens."

With that, she swept up her glass of water and finished it in one go.

"Nameless."

The black haired customer had stood up and left some money on the table.

"Tell Whitewoods that I need take my leave and that the required funds are on the table, please."

This was met with a exchange of nods and the other customer exited the store, umbrella in hand.

"That was Paradise," Nameless says, "Very...spiritual-philosophical? Idealistic, too." She pauses. "Almost definitely not a mafia don."

"Who's a mafia don?"

Whitewoods had returned, with plates on her arms and a tea tray in her hands.

"That would be something to hoard tokens for." Slyph, undaunted, leaned forward and subtly changed the subject.

"Like, if I wanted to ask someone out on a date, Thats a HUGE expenditure! I would need to judicially save up."

He glanced up at the new customer, "Hello." he waved a small goodbye as she turned to go. "Goodbye."

"Paradise, huh?" He watched the woman go into the rain from his seat.

As Whitewoods returned, Slyph turned with a frown. "Anyone could be!" He turned to Nameless. "Like her. its ALWAYS the nice ones..."

"Don't be silly," Whitewoods giggled, "I'd make a horrid mobster." She put the food in front of her customers. "Can hardly run this place properly, let alone a complex system of businesses of dubious legality and complete lack of morality. Did Paradise leave?"

Nameless nodded, and gestured to the money left behind. Whitewoods huffed. "She didn't even say goodbye." Shaking her head she gathered up the money. "Nameless, will Loyal join this weekend's game, or is she busy again?"

Samantha shook her head. "She will be resting," she said, stressing the last word, before picking up her burger. "Travel took a lot out of her."

She took a bite out her burger, automatically murmuring with pleasure at the taste. For all her faults, Whitewoods really made a good burger. If Loyal got her way, all dinners would be take out from Whitewoods, a prospect only blocked by Samantha's disapproval.

"And the vanilla ice cream will be afterwards," Whitewoods sighed, "Despite the absolutely miserable weather. Shaking her head in bemusement, she retreated back into the kitchen.

" You win this round, Wheat-Wads. But I'll be back! Next time I will uncover your vast criminal connections." Slyph shook a mock-outraged fist at White Woods. Settling down, he tried his tea.

Discovering it was far too hot to taste (as good tea is) he decided to go for the burger. He added some ketchup and bit in.

He was no expert on the intricacies of burger creation, but he did enjoy it. Was it the best burger he ever had? he couldn't say, but it was still a worthwhile choice, the pepper jack and the advacado a welcome addition to the rest of the creation.


As he chewed, Slyph listened to the exchange about Loyal intently. He finished his bite and set his burger down. To press the advantage or no? Asking about Loyal's 'rest' could prove too much.

" Game?" he decided was the next best thing. he tried his tea again. " What kind of (ow) game? Like... (ow) gambling?" He blew on his cup and finally achieved a bareable temperature.

Before she disappeared into the kitchen, Whitewoods turned around forming her fingers into makeshift guns, silently firing them at Slyph as she backed through the door. When she disappeared from sight, one could hear her laughter.

Nameless silently worked on her burger as she watched Slyph try to handle his tea. When he asked about the card games that her mother usually went to, she held up a hand to ask for patience as she finished her mouthful.

When she could speak, she said, "Poohsticks. They gather a bunch of wood and chuck it into the river, then bet on which stick travels downstream the fastest." She finished another bite of her burger for dramatic effect, then said, "Joking. That would be equal parts dull and silly. Just card games. Nothing strange, really."

"Poohsticks? I love that gam- oh your joking." Slyph's face immediately brightened with genuine joy and just as quickly fell with immense embarrassment.

"I just... um... I read a lot of classic children's books as a kid." Deflecting the conversation away from the fact that he still played children's games (alone, no less), Slyph bit into his burger and chewed some more. He waited to finish before continuing.

"I used to pretend the 100 Acre Woods was a park near my house. Neverland was a mini-island in a lake outside of town. An abandoned train car is my pirate ship. Was. Was my pirate ship."

His worlds he populated with beanie babies and imaginary friends. But she didn't need to know that.

"But... uh... so games! That's cool. I've never played poker or anything. The Game Club wanted me to join at school but it was rather... elitist? For a bunch of antisocial geeks they were awfully exclusive."

With the final bite of her burger, Nameless then wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Nothing is more pointless than a society that spends all its time worrying about who to allow into its society," she said, though it was clear that the words were not hers.

She then gave Slyph a look. It was one borrowed from her mother, from all mothers, and it said, 'I know what you are hiding from me, and I am not sure I like what I see.' She had no idea about the particulars of what he did in his free time, of course, but what he described; the vivid recreations of storybooks through the brute force through pure imagination was so far removed from what she considered reality that she couldn't help but feel skeptical.

Nameless did not read many books as a child. She much preferred observing the reality of the world around her over creating worlds in her mind. Loyal didn't do much to encourage such things either; all attempts ended with books being tossed away in apathy. The mindset that Slyph had was foreign to her, and it needed to be examined and dissected.

"Vanilla ice cream," said an amused Whitewoods, materialising out of thin air behind Slyph before putting the big, big, glass cup in the middle of the table. Five not insignificant scoops of vanilla ice cream (with a wafer sticking out of the topmost one) sat in pyramid formation, waiting to be devoured.

The change in the girl was instant. The cold, hard, analytical Nameless morphed into a wide, bright eyed Samantha that immediately picked up a spoon and started digging into it with gusto. Whitewoods turned away, giggles smothered by the back of her hand.

Spark knocked at the door, her duel color hair falling wet in her face. She called her mom, saying she wasn't gonna head home till the storm lightened up, and it wasn't lighting up. She was soaked to the brim, and cold. She knocked on the door again, pulling the hood of her hoodie down.

Slyph met the distinctive stare with one of his own, specifically designed to combat the peer skeptic. It comprised of a smile that was too genuine to be a smirk but still comprised one side of the mouth. A slightest tilt of his head to the side and a raising of both eyebrows.

‘You have no idea.’ He seemed to say, ‘But aren’t you the least bit curious?’

Slyph was no fool. His stories and imaginary friends did not come to school with him, and his problems weren’t simply solved with faith, trust, and pixie dust.

But is not the fight against the fretful stir Unprofitable (that’s Wordsworth) made easier by a little childish excitement? Why live life in morose cynicism when you can have joyful exuberance?

The moment shattered as Whitewoods materialized behind him

“NYAAAaaH!” He shrieked and gasped for breath. He tried to drink some tea to calm his nerves, but almost spat it out as his surprise turned to amazement at the momentous dish of vanilla iced cream.

“Oh my god…” He whispered with reverential severity. “Thats a lot of iced cream.” Was all he could think of contributing. The very thought of asking for some seemed ridiculous with the speed and enthusiasm it disappeared into the changed Samantha’s mouth. He couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

The knock on the door almost made him jump, but much less so than Whitewoods’ appearance. He didn’t bother getting up, knowing it wasn’t his place to do so.

Besides, it was much more engrossing to watch Nameless’ race to the bottom of her bowl.

Nameless briefly appeared again to give a quick glare at Slyph and Whitewoods laughter, before Samantha quickly returned to eating. For her part, Whitewoods turned in surprise at the door before cheerfully waving through the window.

"Come in! Come in!" she exclaimed, opening the door and giving the newcomer a big cheerful grin, "It's miserable out there." She emphasised her invitation by taking hoodie girl by the sleeve and gently tugging her inside. "It's always so nice to see a new face, and make new acquaintances. My name is Whitewoods, the owner of this humble abode."

Samantha's ice cream had taken a peculiar form. The topmost sphere (with wafer) had remained untouched, hardly melting in the cold weather, but was balancing precariously on the rapidly disappearing supporting scoops. Every so often, she would rotate the cup to attack the other scoops as if trying to balance the structure as much as possible.

"So sit wherever you wish," Whitewoods smiled, "Though you'd have to ask Nameless and Gongjiang if you want to sit next them. They're finishing up though."

"Thank you, Miss Whitewoods. I'm Star Spark, but you can call me Sparkie." Sparkie said taking off her green hoodie and revealing a black-ish tank top. As she hung it up, she shivered a bit and sneezed. "Sorry." she sniffled.

Slyph's ear perked at the distinct sneeze.

"...Spark?" It's odd what one can remember about somone they never really met. At some point he heard a sneeze and a name at school.

Slyph turned around in his seat to regard the sneezer: "H-hi." was all he could muster.

Time seemed to rewind, and he adopted a more closed off position All confidence drained from the boy.

He glanced at Nameless and nodded at either empty seat at the booth they sat in, asking permission.

Time seemed to rewind, and bright eyed Samantha retreated back into cool Nameless, the wild scoops slowing to elegant action. She was nothing if not a reflection of those around her. Nameless shrugged, indicating that she did not care either way.

For the first time, she turned to acknowledge the newcomer into Whitewoods. Was school over already? Nameless thought it was school hours still. She could maybe remember seeing her in the hallways.

Taking that as acceptance, Whitewoods placed a menu on the table and ushered Spark to her seat. "Come, come don't be shy," she urged.

Everyone is so nice. And pushy. she thought, sitting among the elder people at the table, still shivering from the cold rain. Not normally being the shy one, she struck up the easiest conversation piece there is. The weather. "So... The rain's coming down hard, huh? Enough to give someone a cold." she said. She sneezed, as if her body was telling her to shut up about the weather already. Nasally, she added "Like me... Heheh..."

"Yeah..." For a moment, the boy glanced out the window whist fully at the storm. Like a pining lover. "All that rain and thunder..."

"H-Hi!" Slyph tried again, with at least a facade of extroversion. "Did you come from t-the highschool? A-are they out y-yet?" At first he only wanted to know from curiousity, but the memory of his truancy rushed back.

"Oh jeez..." He muttered to himself before forcing himself back into the conversation.

"That's a f-far walk! In the... in the rain at least." He set a palm on his face. "Oh wow that sounded really condescending." He slunk down in his seat. This... This is why he didn't have any friends.

"We just made the same walk," Nameless said idly, taking careful scoops out of her ice cream. The top most scoop had yet to fall, but was dangerously unbalanced. She motions at Spark. "But it would be a quick walk for you if school just finished." She put a spoonful in her mouth. "Or did you skip out, too?"

Sparkie giggled. "No, I'm in Elementary School. The High School's near my school, walking distance. But mom and dad know that I like the outdoors, so I walk home and to school." she explained, right before another sneeze. "I must be getting a cold... I've never really sneezed this much before."

((Sorry for the delay!))
"Oh. Right, of course!" Slyph bobbed his head. "D-does the elementary school g-get out early?"

Despite the stammer, he really was quite curious. In the way that it was always good to know traffic patterns and when it's best to avoid certain streets.

"Also: What grade are you in?" Slyph asked conversationally, trying not to just ask questions of importance to him. He tried very hard not to have the snark he was so familiar with. Parents and friends and relatives all looking down grownup noses.

Plop.

The fifth scoop had finally fallen, the sphere far too heavy for the thin supports. Nameless swore under her breath as she plucked the wafer out of the fallen structure and took a bite out of it.

Elementary. So there was no chance that she could have stolen anything from this Spark. That was good, dealing with those people was always such a pain.

"Aren't they afraid of you getting kidnapped?" she asked idly, before continuing with the ice cream.

"No, not really. I'm real tough, see!" she said, flexing her small muscles in a joking way. "But really, I normally have someone with me. So I'm not normally alone. Today was rainy, so I was alone. I really hate the rain. And my school gets out kinda early, if 2:30 is early." she continued. She was asked a fair few questions, that she didn't know how to take, really. "And I'm in k5. I'm five years old." she said smiling. And master of conversation-starting!

At mention of the rain, slyph appeared genuinely offended on behalf of the rain.

Slyph gagged on a fry, graciously  covering his mouth with a napkin.

"Five?" He cleared his throat.

"You are not!" He hissed, maybe a bit too loud.

It was a particularly childish moment for the teenager. Realizing his faux pas, he covered his face in a hand, embarrassed.

"I mean... Wow! You sound much older. Than... than five..."