bumfuckidaho | TEST DRIVE MEME, APRIL 2017.

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TEST DRIVE MEME, APRIL 2017.

TEST DRIVE MEME

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed – the nursing staff greets you with a cheerful smile.

Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

option one
WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES

The hospital staff had seemed very friendly, but ultimately unhelpful when it came to answering your questions, insisting you shouldn't worry about such things, and that it was smarter to just rest until you'd fully recovered.

That was some time ago. You've since managed to leave the hospital – either via escape, or simply by waiting patiently and filling out paperwork until they finally agreed to release you. Now you've found yourself in the small but hearty town of Wayward Pines, Idaho. It's a charming little place, and the people there are all friendly enough, more than willing to greet you on the street, or give you directions if you need them.

Unless you're asking for directions out of town, of course.

Some will simply smile and give you a hearty pat on the shoulder and ask why you'd ever want to do a thing like that? Others will get quiet for a moment, and direct you to the nearest sign posted near the doorway of every building.

Don't bother taking the road, either. Whether you walk or get your hands on a vehicle, you won't get anywhere. The road simply takes you away from town for a short while before looping around and bringing you right back in.

There's no use questioning things, and it seems pretty useless to try to leave. So really, why not stay a while? Everyone's convinced that you'll find something to love in Wayward Pines.

(For the purposes of this test drive, you're welcome to handwave the existence of basically any local business or activity.)

option two
INTO THE WOODS

You've just heard a scream from the woods.

I mean, it could've been an animal. There's bound to be some kind of wildlife amongst the trees, right? But then again, it did sound awfully... human.

Though all of the locals nearby conceal a flinch at the sound, they'll assure you it's nothing, if you ask them. Why, you're probably just hearing things! (But with an anxious undertone of stop asking questions.) If you're curious, though, and brave enough to go see, they won't make any move to stop you from going into the wooded area surrounding the town.

The trees are tall, and their branches are thick enough to block out a significant amount of sunlight from breaking through the canopy, leaving the forest floor a little dimmer and cooler than the streets of town.

Whatever the source of the scream was, you won't be able to find it out here. An experienced hunter might notice some signs of a struggle, and a few faint boot prints, but they don't really seem to lead anywhere in particular.

What you will find, if you walk far enough, is a fence. A big one - at least 30 feet tall, made of metal and concrete. It goes on quite a ways in either direction as well; follow the wall far enough, and you'll see that it connects with the steep, sheer cliffs that surround the rest of Wayward Pines, effectively boxing the town in.

In actuality, you'll probably feel it before you see it. A full 500 yards from the wall, when it's hardly a shadowy smudge through the trees, you start to feel a little bit tired, a little bit weak. Trouble is, the closer you get, the weaker you feel - like the wall itself is sapping the strength out of you, and the closer you get, the worse it feels. Any powers you may have had grow weaker in kind as you make your way to the fence, but even ordinary humans will find their strength sapping away. By the time you're close enough to read the signs and to feel the crackle of electricity radiating from the thick wires criss-crossing the wall's metal surface, you're too weak to stand.

Do you crawl closer still and risk electrocution, or do you crawl away and assess the situation once you're far enough from the fence to be able to stand?

option three
PTA BAKE SALE

It's that time of year again. The time when everyone digs into their wallet, ignores their diet, and spends a little time supporting the local school bake fair. You know, for the good of the children. And it doesn't hurt that Linda's Blondie recipe is honestly to die for. The school PTA has pulled out all the stops this year in the hopes of encouraging a good community turn out, posters advertising the sale plastering every street corner and stuffed into every mailbox for a solid week leading up to the event, and today is finally the day.

There's at least two dozen different tables set up with all manner of delectable treats, even one or two offering vegan alternatives for those inclined, not to mention a few others catering to some of the townspeople's more... unique palates.

Maybe you've got your own table set up with your wares, or maybe you were simply lured to the park today by the appetizing scents wafting through the air. Either way it seems like the whole town has come out to show their support today and why wouldn't they? Children are our future, aren't they? Or maybe it's just Linda's Blondie recipe.

Yeah, that's probably it.

option four
ON THE NETWORK

Though it's not as high-tech as you might be used to (or hell, maybe you're ren faire and it's centuries beyond anything you've seen), but Wayward Pines does in fact have a network to accommodate its citizens.

Go ahead, post a network post! Just note that the network currently has two basic functions. The first is audio-only and can be accessed from the telephones in each character's home. If an audio-based medium doesn't suit your needs (or aesthetics), be sure to take advantage of the Wayward Pines Message Board from your brand new laptop for the chance to communicate with your fellow townspeople in a text-based format instead!

( a few notes )

Welcome to our third test drive here in The Pines! Just one important thing to note:

Upon arrival in Wayward Pines, characters find themselves struggling to remember entirely who they were or where they came from. Memories return progressively over the next two weeks. You're welcome to play with this mechanic in any of these prompts, but it's definitely not mandatory! For more details on this temporary memory loss, see our FAQ.

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option one: welcome to wayward pines: [ Waking up in the hospital is... well, it's disorienting. Strange in a way that he can't quite put his finger on. And there's a certain kind of horror, a special sort of terror that comes with looking at the wires and tubes coming off of him that makes it an act of will not to pull them all out. It's no wonder that the first memory to come back to him is Lois, her last few moments in his arms, and that kills both the fight and the flight instincts the whole thing had on him initially. He's up quickly, though, and while he's been told that he should wait for an attendant to get out of bed, well... he's fine. Really. He can make it just as well to the bathroom himself-

And break the handle off.

Which leads to a few very awkward days of discovery for him, really. Oh, the doorknob is not the last thing to get crushed in his hand though thankfully it's probably the most important. At least they all get a laugh when the apple becomes applesauce all over his face. But then there's the floating, his senses going just... haywire. The first time he sees through one of the nurses is a trip.

Thankfully, the heat vision doesn't come up until after he's out of the hospital, settling into his new house and well... apparently he's the exception to the rule when it comes to watched pots and boiling. A very surprised exception.

...also he has to go to the store to get more eggs now. Thankfully, no one has to know why he's there. And it'll give him a chance to enjoy a nice walk down main street. ]

option two: into the woods: [ He almost goes like a shot. But after seeing the fear in a few people's eyes, Kal's been making a point to be more careful at showing off the strange things that he can do. It's part of why he's not even sure if anyone heard anything, at least until he actually sees the guilt and shame in their eyes. It makes his lips press tight before he starts running, the question of what's going on behind him almost as curious as what he might find in front of him. Once he hits the treeline, he starts putting his senses to work, though it's rough going given the wildlife and the rest of the forest's natural sounds. He's been working on it, though, and now that he's out of sight, he feels better about flying around a little faster, not that he's finding anything so far... ]

option three: pta bakesale: [ There is NOTHING like the smell of fresh baked goods and there is especially nothing like the smell of good apple pie. Kal feels the itch to do some baking of his own sometime this week, but for the moment, he's going to take his time and browse around the little sale to pick out a few things to take home with him. After all, it's a great cause. And it's giving him a chance to get to meet and greet with some of the folks around town.

Besides, it's a beautiful day.]

option four: network: Nothing too complicated: I was just wondering if anyone would be interested in doing a recipe exchange. I promise I've got a few great ones to make it worth your while.

Edited 2017-04-17 14:26 (UTC)

Hospital /Police Station/Coffee Shop

She heard someone cough at the end of the hall, the heavy steps of the busy nurses running to and fro, the soft words of reassurance and comfort that spilled from every room. The beeps were maddening, hundreds of them echoing through her head, all in the same steady haunting rhythm. Elena hated hospitals, she always had. The smell was too clean, stained with bleach and ammonia as if that might wash away the discomfort of death that filled the building.

It didn’t help but people liked to pretend that it did.

With a groan Elena pushed herself up to a sitted position. She was wearing a hospital gown with the same frustratingly steady beat echoing at her side. It took fractions of a second before Elena decided she was done with this. She pulled herself free of the bed and quickly left the hospital. She didn’t belong there anyway.

After hearing that her things were at the station she swung by, pulling on a pair of worn jeans, combat boots, a tank top and a long sleeve t-shirt. She never cared much about fashion which was at least one thing that she firmly remembered about herself. From what she had gathered, dhe’d been in some sort of accident but she wasn’t overly concerned about her memory loss, knowing it would return in time. What concerned her was the itching sensation that she felt against the back of her knees. It felt like she wanted to run.

Elena considered going home, changing into something more comfortable and then going for a run but decided that her time would be better employee if she got herself a cup of coffee. Caffeine was what she needed to take off the edge, caffeine and a very fattening pastry to go along with it.

PTA Bake Sale /Journalism

She had resumed her job at the local newspaper though it wasn’t exactly as she imagined when leaving the hospital. Looking over her small desk she realized that there was no intrigue or real digging done into this town. It was strange considering all of the accidents but it was hushed up, something that they weren’t allowed to talk or write about. Elena frowned with the more she learned, unable to firmly place what exactly was wrong with the situation.

As the morning pulled on she was called into her bosses office. He expressed concern first. She’d never taken time off and the accident had put her out of work for three days. Three days. It felt so long and yet Elena didn’t remember any of it.

With a bit of a shrug he told her that she’d be covering the PTA bake sale. Elena wanted to protest that a bake sale wasn’t news but she knew that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. With a heavy sign she grabbed her notebook, her camera, and a pen and then headed towards the site. She made sure that she had enough cash on her before heading over, if she had to go then she was going to enjoy the tastes of all the baked goods while she was there.

She could be found wondering through the event for a few hours: taking pictures of each stand, speaking to those behind the small plastic tables covered in baked treats, asking about what they had baked and why they chose that particular sweet. She sought out the organizers to ask how this year’s sales have been going and what specific projects they had in mind to fundraise. She tried a snack from each table, making sure that she could comment on that as well as everything else.

If Elena had a job she was going to be thorough, capturing every angel that the story had to offer. She preferred more liberal pieces; The state of our Small Town and how to Preserve it was her favorite but these sort of events were nice too. They were relaxing and she didn’t mind taking the time to enjoy herself while also working. It was one of the many perks of the job.

WILDCARD

[ ooc: tag her where ever. ]

He'd been told upon waking up in the hospital that he was a firefighter, a job that largely seemed to require very little in the way of fighting fires and a lot of drilling, community service, and sitting around with the other guys at the station. For all that, it's fulfilling, knowing that he's there to help and make a difference if something goes wrong... but something about watching the woman taking her notes, interviewing the various organizers, and getting her pictures fills him with a kind of longing and it's not too long before he makes his way over to her with a companionable smile.

He dusts his hands off and offers a bow of his head in greeting.

"I hope you're getting at least a cookie or two while you're here. You'll be glad of the blood sugar when you're writing this all up later."

He says it with the voice of experience, but it's experience he doesn't remember having quite yet.

Hospital Waking

It wasn’t the sound of the hospital that woke her but a soft buzzing that echoed like the speeding hum of a race car in her ear. Bright blue eyes focused on the ceiling above her, her pupils shrinking as the light shined obtrusively down on her. Pain shot down her neck, reaching like tendrils of electricity down her spine and out through her limbs.

Rebooting

She pushed her hair out of her eyes, glancing around the room. Her limbs felt weak, like she’d been asleep to long and had forgotten how to move properly. The hospital was a familiar sight. She remembered spending a lot of times in hospitals. Was she sick?

Enis tried to remember but her thoughts were blank, all except that whirling sound that continued to echo through her skull.

She tried to flag someone down but everyone was too busy to notice her. Pressing her palm against her forehead, Enis decided to get some more sleep. Once she was rested she’d head out, with or without the doctors permission. She was used to hospitals but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend all her time here. She had something very important to do.

…if only she could remember what it was.

Feeling Sick : French's General Store

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably and Enis fell to her knees in the middle of the store. The apple she’d been holding rolled away from her, stopping only when something blocked its path. She pressed her palm against her abdomen, hoping that its stop the uncomfortable turning sensation that threatened to release her lunch right there in the store.

Her head began to swim uncomfortably, memories rising to the surface and then fading like bites of data or code that were only partially complete. The buzzing echoed in her head again but this time she heard a soft computerized voice in her ear.

Error

Enis shook her head, trying to push back the discomfort. Her fingers were trembling as she pressed her free hand to her head. Her skin was burning and slick, sweat dotted the back of her neck, sticking the midnight strands of silk to her perfectly pale skin.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left the hospital so soon.

Network : Text

SN: DJ-Defrag
I’m working on something new but it’s turning into a chemistry experiment. I need the following chemicals; Boracic acid, Latic acid, magnesium sulphate and acetylsalicylic acid. Most can be found in household items but they’re all mixed with other stuff that won’t work. Short of raiding the school’s chem lab, which I realize is illegal and I’d be admitting to the felony now, I need a way to get these items.

If anyone can help me, I’d be indebted to them. I can make payments in form of a free lunch or a drink.

WILDCARD

[ ooc: tag her where ever. ]

Edited 2017-04-17 14:58 (UTC)

one;
Projecting confidence apparently comes easy. So, it seems, does flirting.

It’s how he makes his way through town with minimal disturbance to the public. A wink, a slow grin. Giving someone with particular interest a once-over in return. On the ones that don’t take to it, he uses humor. “Laundry day,” he says, or “The latest style.”

There’s always a desire to add from where, like the designation of place is vital for understanding the joke, but he can’t think of the where that he needs.

At least it’s warm enough out that he only feels a light chill from the breeze.

two;
The instant after he hears the scream, Poe starts to move. Five running steps, a falter. Is no one else going to come?

He stares at the townspeople, instinct telling him to go, go, go, training (training?) telling him to take backup. “Well, what are you waiting for, a transmitted invitation? Let’s go!”

So persuasive.

wildcard/around town;
There’s a motorcycle in his garage.

He doesn’t remember ever having flow— driven something like this before, but the controls are so simple a toddler could operate them. He’s out on the road in a trice, not even pausing to close the garage door before zipping toward the emptiest parts of town.

Faster. Faster. Faster. At first it’s great, it’s perfect, feeling the press of gravity and atmosphere. But there’s a limit to it. To the speed he can get up to on these narrow streets, the maneuverability of this low-tech speeder wannabe.

He swings sideways into a skidding, juddering halt, the stutter of tires on asphalt like putting pressure on a bruise.

Stillness. A crow over cries a warning or a curse and Poe looks up, momentarily hating the animal for reasons he doesn't fully understand.

"Same to you,” he says, under his breath.

Edited 2017-04-17 15:01 (UTC)

[ when she hears the scream she can’t help but to flinch like those around her. it’s startling and the fact that it didn’t sound like an animal, but instead a human, makes it all the more unsettling. she frowns, looking around the crowd, from face to face, to see if someone ( anyone ) is going to leap into action, but… ]

Hey! [ she had almost lost faith in these people, but when one man breaks away from the crowd she finds herself running after him. instinctively, she reaches for her wrist comm, to call her mech, only to remember it hadn’t been sanctioned or some bs. ] Slow down! [ he reminds her of jack in more ways than one, and that brings a smile to her face. ] Gramps, slow down! How is it all you old guys can run so fast? I call hax! HAX!

[ He stops just inside the tree line as he hears himself being called, goes through the mental acrobatics to realize that she's calling him 'Gramps', and pauses. He pauses half a foot or so off the ground but... brush? Maybe? At this point, it'd be more awkward if he drops so he stays as is. ]

Did you hear it too?

[ He's straining to catch something but- ]

I'm not sure which direction it came from but something tells me it's nothing good.

Into the woods
When she heard the scream, Dom's hand went instantly to the place where a gun shoulder holster would be—a reflex as smooth and unthinking as an eyeblink. She'd think about that more, but the urge to see if someone's in trouble is stronger.

Now here she is lying in the ground, barely able to lift her head. That's what you get for following some random-ass boot prints, she thinks. She scrabbles a little in the dirt, trying to scoot herself backward. Maybe if she goes back the way she came, she'll be okay.

Bake sale
Dom's wandered up to the bake sale, unable to resist the lure of sweets. Of course, having done so means that she needs to make conversation—awkward conversation, per usual. She goes back and forth in front of the same table three times before finally stopping and smiling. "Hey. Brownies. I'll take one?"

Afterward she finds a bench in the park and has a seat, munching on the brownie and watching the townsfolk go by.

No one else came with him.

That thought haunts him unreasonably as Poe makes his way deeper into the woods. No one, not one of those people, heard someone scream and wanted to do anything about it. He's not used to that, he realizes. He was once, but not any more.

He also hasn't been walking long enough to merit the fatigue trickling into his veins. This feels... familiar, almost. It feels like--

The start of recollection gets curtailed by the sight of a woman on the ground. He picks up the pace, trying to run, finding instead that he can manage a jog with disproportionate effort.

"Hey! Can you hear me? Sing out if you--"

The wall, suddenly visible through the trees. He staggers to a halt, dropping unintentionally to one knee. The wall, and suddenly he knows why this feels familiar.

This isn't a town. It's a prison.

A smile teased Elena's lips as she turned towards the older man. She couldn't place him but her memories were returning slowly, there was no telling what she might remember given time. He had a kind face, the sort of face that she might have one day found comfort in. Right now it was the face of a handsome stranger and nothing more.

"That is the plan." She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear before slipping her small notebook into her front pocket. "Do you have any suggestions? I don't think I can try everything with so many options."

Elena moved fluidly, her steps bringing her closer to the man. She looked like a doll though her demeanor was strong and firm.

Dom manages to raise her head and look back at the source of the voice, in time to see him drop.

"Don't ... come any closer," she croaks. "Not unless you wanna eat a mouthful of leaves."

She digs her hands and feet into the earth and pushes, and with a great effort, manages to roll onto her back. It's not much, but it's a few inches away from the wall, at least.

option one: welcome to wayward pines

[ So anyone in the same wing as him is probably going to get to meet Scott as he stumbles out of the ruins of a hospital room that has been literally cut in half by a massive beam of wild ruby-colored energy. Thankfully, none of the nurses were in the room at the time, but they'd all been on the way to check on the newly-awoken patient so, uh...

First impression: made.

He keeps the sunglasses on after that, but once they start trying to convince him of things and fill in the giant gaping holes in his memory, they get to be somewhat frustrated with him for entirely different reasons.

Suffice to say, everyone's happier when he leaves and heads for the sheriff's station to sign for what looks like laser tag gear and a visor with a neat little button that-

Second impression: also made. Also a mental note not to press the button unless he wants to blow something up. And definitely not in the sheriff's office. Probably.

He switches back to the shades since those look at least nominally normal and give him way better vision but the visor is in his backpack, along with a few other things that he'd picked up as he wanders around the town that apparently he's lived in his entire life. You know, except for the memories that say that's total bullshit that keep sort of nudging at the back of his brain, but that's neither here nor there. All the same, mostly he's just trying to find a good place for some pizza and to not blow anything up. So far, so good. ]

option two: into the woods

[ What in the ever loving hell was that?

He doesn't even really think so much as his feet are moving and he's heading for the treeline because that was... that was someone. Something? Does it matter? Whatever or whoever it was was terrified out of their goddamn mind and none of the other idiots in this town seem to want to do anything about it so off he goes. He laments that he doesn't have the neat visor thing with him (and he makes a note to try and pack it with him from now on because what the hell?!?) but he'll whip those glasses off if he has to, if...

He doesn't know 'what if' because he has no idea what he's running towards, but he's going to do something about it, goddamn it, whatever it is. ]

option three: pta bakesale

[ Why is Scott here? Because it was help with this or detention and at least this is outside in the sunlight. He likes sunlight, probably more than he figures most teenagers do. Besides, there's the smell of cookies, some of the mothers have even donated since he's being 'so helpful'...

It could really be worse.

And when he's not actually being asked to do anything or manning any of the tables, he's getting a chance to meet some of the other people in town. Which is... not too bad? Nah, not too bad. ]

option four: network

Okay, so, what the hell are we supposed to do for fun around here?

Something about that strikes a chord, though he's not sure where that chord is or how far back it goes; the echoes hurt a little but he brushes it aside. How can something hurt when he doesn't know what it is yet? Better to focus on the now.

"Personally, if you're going to have access to a fork and knife, I'd say you should aim for the blueberry pie over there. It's the best crust I've seen all afternoon."

one;
[ It's not a hard sell, that she was in an accident. SHIELD Special Service, CIA - you sign up for death work, eventually death will come knocking.

It's the circumstances that she doesn't believe. It's the doctors, it's the town. It's why she didn't stay in spite of their reassurances and requests, and why she left as politely as she possibly could. She's in hostile territory, one way or another, and if they're going to pretend to be friendly, she's going to pretend to be friends.

She's made it about half-way to the sheriff's office on smiles and sheepish looks, and the lack of anything overtly wrong here is starting to get to her. ]

three;
[ Sharon has an undeniable sweet tooth. This, she has learned about herself in the past ten minutes, drawn by the temptation of advertising and the smell of delicious baked goods.

Her first pass through the park is to mark the lines of approach, the areas of highest human density, potential sniper positions, cover, best places to lose herself if needed.

She feels better having done it. Good enough to take her eyes off her surroundings long enough to buy herself a brownie. ]

Edited 2017-04-17 16:29 (UTC)

[Clary doesn't know Scott, not in the strictest sense but the school was small enough that it's hard to go unnoticed and Scott had gained a quick reputation for being what her mother would have coined a bay-boy. Not that Clary put much stock into the term but she always found it interesting.]

Hi.

[She flashes him a smile before glancing down at the sweets. She'd come to draw but she needs fuel.]

Any recommendations on what's good or should I just pick something and get out of your way?

[It isn't busy but Clary has always been candied with her phrasing.]

Elena's attention turned towards the pie. It smells good, they are yards away and yet she smells it like it's being shoved into her nose. It's odd, she doesn't think others can smell things like this.

"Seen?" She asked, keeping her tone even. "Haven't tried it yet?"

Her bright blue eyes look over at him with a warm gaze. "How about we try a slice together. It'd be helpful to get a second opinion." She implied for her story but there was more to the statement hidden within the spaces of her sentence. If things smelled so keen, would they taste that way too?

"I happen to be a connoisseur of leaves."

He manages to get back to his feet, stagger a few steps, then goes down again. He gets down on his hands and knees and crawls closer, feeling the inexorable creep of exhaustion. He gets just close enough to grab her hand and starts to drag her backwards, away from the wall and whatever field it's projecting to disable them. He has to do it in short bursts.

"Hi. I'm Poe. Nice to meet you. Any injuries not pride-related?"

[ when she catches up to him she doubles over to catch her breath. ] I, yeah, it… [ it’s hard not to notice that he’s floating in midair and, for a moment, she can’t keep from grinning. ]

How are you doing that? Is this a simulation, because [ she waves her hand flippantly as a sheepish laugh follow. ] I couldn’t find a way to access the command console and turn god mode on, not that I need it, [ she amends. ] but this place gives me the creeps and… [ focus, hana, focus. ] I did hear it. It almost sounded human. Do you think someone’s out here, hurt?

SN; ArtGeek

Are your recipes simple because I have my moms and I am having trouble making most of these. I'm also tired of living off of hot pockets and ramen noddles, as awesome as both of those are.

[Bake sales aren't really Rumlow's thing. It's not that he hates sweets, it's more that he doesn't need to fuck up his diet. Kenzi, however? He figures he can pick something up for her (and Jefferson too, if he's interested). They'll appreciate it, and maybe it'll work to cheer them up after what's been going on lately. He's just browsing for now, looking at the selection before he makes his choice when he spots someone doing a familiar behavior.

That's a perimeter scan if he's ever seen one. It's subtle, of course, but if you know how the game works, it's easy to pick up. Rumlow keeps his eyes on the blonde (she seems familiar, somehow) as he weaves through the soccer moms. She's standing by one of the brownie dealers -- because really, they might as well be drugs -- and Rumlow sidles up, peering down at the neatly wrapped treats.]

Brownie, hunh? Figured you'd go for one of Linda's famous blondies to match the hair.

[It's not a good line, but Rumlow's not here to flirt. Just get an assessment, see if maybe that familiarity carries. If she knows him (and doesn't inexplicably hate him), then he might be able to get some more answers. With situtional awareness like she's got, he'd put money down that she's an agent in her own right.]

Beats me, but I feel like I'm losing my mind. No arcade no fun.

[ Scott hasn't really made a huge effort to make friends; there aren't any memories that make him that way, but there's just enough echoes of a life in a bunch of foster homes at various points that say 'don't get attached' that he's more willing to listen to than some councilor he knows is just trying to get through their day without reaching for the Jack in the bottom drawer.

...it's not pessimism if you're at least 50% sure you saw it there when they pulled out your file the last time.

But Scott is still a teenage boy. And Clary is an exceptionally pretty girl. You don't need to have his skills at math to do this equation. ]

You're not in my way.

[ A tilt of his head towards one of the tables. ]

And the lemon bars are pretty much the best thing I've had all afternoon. I mean, if you like lemon.

I'd kill for an arcade. Seriously kill for one. Heck, I'd kill for a good pizza place. Have you found ANY good pizza places?

Well, if there's something you'd like help learning how to make, something you'd really like, I could offer some suggestions. Otherwise, yes, I've got a few simple ones.

A lot of good food is just a matter of patience and knowing what works with what. Nothing too complicated.

He glances over at some of the picnic tables that have been set up for just that purpose before nodding to the affirmative. Sure, they could do that.

"My treat," he says as he steps over, carefully slipping past her as he pulls out his wallet to make his donation. He returns soon enough with a pair of plates, each one holding a well-loaded slice of pie.

Realizing he might be being a bit old fashioned, he tips his chin towards the little table selling small cartons of milk.

"If you wanted to cover drinks, I'll bow out on that one."

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