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Post by alecsander lee devere on Feb 13, 2010 17:14:55 GMT -5
walked around my good intentions [/color]  found that there were none[/color] - - - - -[/color][/center] Alec stifled a sneeze as he opened up the dusty tome. He succeeded in muffling the sound, but the action made his sinuses ache. Alec furrowed his brow. How was it that such mundane tasks managed to cause him physical discomfort? He swept his eyes around the library. It was decent, as school libraries went, he supposed. Definitely a decent stock of books, quiet enough, the architecture generally pleasing. He had no real reason to dislike these surroundings. Yet he did.
It simply didn't feel right. He was here at Norrington for his Junior year, and was still quasi-invisible it seemed. At Hakebourne, he'd only begun to establish himself among his peers, but here...it was a different environment - with girls, no less - and Alec was already beginning to feel as though there would be problems. His old school in France had been full of rich brats, either struggling to shine in face of their parents' crushing expectations, or coasting on their trust funds. He had made his rounds. Knew their types. It hadn't been hard to become the most popular boy in school. But Norrington wasn't solely inhabited by ferociously ambitious overachievers or apathetic children. There were people with good hearts, who wanted to contribute to the community, fall in love, and do all the stuff that Alec considered complete and utter crap.
Frankly, it was disturbing.
Alec was having a difficult time coping with the change. First of all, it appeared that no one really like him, which was an entirely new concept. Secondly, he now ran the risk of running into his baby sister at every turn. He suppressed a shudder. Alec brushed a hand over the pages of the heavy book, trying to remove some of the dust. He found it mildly disgusting, but he supposed that there wasn't much that could have prevented it. After all, how many people of high school age read the German Ideology?
It was certainly a strange choice for him, considering he wasn't a Marxist or a Communist - in fact, he considered himself to be a rather hardcore capitalist. Humans would never let each other be equal for long, anyway. Alec flipped to the first page, commencing his reading. It was a translation, of course (no way he was going to stare at seven hundred pages of a language he didn't know) but he felt that the message would be conveyed clearly enough. It had been recommended to him by some random teacher in eighth grade. With the first page out of the way, Alec had a feeling that it was at least going to be interesting.
He was on the second level of the library, seated in an armchair in a corner. His body was unfortunately angled so that it cast a faint shadow across the pages, but however frustrating that was, he could still read it well enough. Alec was feeling agitated enough that even the tiniest little details served to irritate him. A stray strand of hair dipping into his vision was brushed back with excessive brusqueness. The collar of his polo shirt was straightened with an angry jerk.
Alec sunk further into the chair. He was feeling decidedly sorry for himself, since making friends hadn't been going nearly as well as he'd hoped it would, and so was intent on having as little human contact as possible. He tried not to frown and so openly show his discontent, since he wasn't really interested in giving himself wrinkles at sixteen. God, that would be awful. Alec's mouth twisted sourly. As if anyone else in the student body cared about wrinkles. That was another thing that irked him - pretty much no one shared his interests. Alec sighed, closing his eyes for a second or so before returning to the book before him. Reading Marx was a good way to mope.
TAG; open
NOTES; kinda boring, but I had nothing to do...
LYRICS; Our Lady Peace
WORDS; six forty-six
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Post by indigo christian lyle on Feb 13, 2010 20:37:54 GMT -5
louder than sirens, louder than bells-------------------------------------------------------  ------------------------------------------------------- sweeter than heaven, hotter than hellIndigo's tastes didn't necessarily go flush with the ideals of the student body. Mostly because she didn't have the funds to keep up with the latest trends, but even if she had the necessary figures in her bank account, Ke$ha's latest album and the Twilight Saga hadn't exactly piqued her interest as of yet. The fact that she was often sulking in the somewhat opressive confines of the school library was a sort of homage to that. She frequented the room for two reasons. The first being that the books here were free. In all fairness, the books she read were easily picked up for pennies these days, but she found lending them to be just that bit more cost effective. The second part of her reasoning was that she had ample choice. Most of the Norrington youths had zero interest in George Orwell and the likes, and so the books which she liked to peruze at her leisure were always free. Had the library provided its students with books about impossible vampire romances or the latest installment of The Gossip Girl books, perhaps the place would be a little fuller, but at present, it continued to offer at least mildly challenging reading material. She bit down lightly on the inside of her lip, she wasn't entirely sure that some of the females here wouldn't even expend their concentration on reading if it did include the escepades of spoiled New Yorkers. Still, she was indifferent to their ignorance of classics.
Handing the fairly unharmed book under her left arm into the desk, she waited for a moment as the necessary procedure was completed before wandering off into the labrynth of shelves. Currently, Indie's right wrist was in a cuff, allowing her to flex only her fingers. The stiff nature of the band left her right arm mostly incapacitated except for blunt force, and she was finding it a bit of a chore. She had managed to trip over her mothers work bag, catching her foot in the strapping and landing in a decidedly akward position on the floor. The weight of her body had trapped her hand underneath her, and although the bone hadn't broke, there was a fairly impressive sprain. Dropping her pale eyes, she glanced over the monstrosity on her arm. it was fairly regulation, a rough off white with darker edging and a few straps to hold it in place. It wasn't exactly a Birkin bag, but she liked to think it gave her appearance a little interesting edge. That was what she liked to think. Stopping at intervals of no particular thought down the isles, she lingered at one, running her free hand over a few of the spines. Stopping at one that seemed promising, she tipped the top, easing it out with care. Not enough, obviously, the next book caught on the overly bent cover, sending it tumbling back, the book next to it falling onto its side in the space left. Instinctively, she placed her arms out, palm up, hoping to balance the other book on her arms before it hit the floor. The weight hit her wrist, sending a jolt of pain through the tender injury. She winced, inhaling sharply. "Oww" she breathed, trying to manouver her arm to eleviate the pain. The book slide slightly into a new position, bringing a marginally different pain but not necessarily a better one. Indie pressed her lips together. She could open her arms and drop the book, but her pride wasn't about to take a battering, and the thought of disapproving looks and murmured disapprovals didn't thrill her. Usually, she couldn't have cared less, but it was near silent, that would just be inexplicably awkward.
notes none!
words six nineteen
song mazzy star - into dust
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Post by alecsander lee devere on Feb 13, 2010 23:47:13 GMT -5
walked around my good intentions [/color] found that there were none[/color] - - - - -[/color][/center] Alec was feeling rather miserable, and although his sour mood only showed slightly in his body language, other than that, no one could probably tell to what degree exactly he was feeling sorry for himself. Even so, it made him slightly insecure to be feeling...insecure. He liked to appear confident - and normally succeeded a bit too much - and this was seriously undermining his values.
It normally didn't take much for him to cheer himself up. All he had to do was remind himself of his grades - generally flawless - his money - quite abundant - his looks - he'd shot a new editorial just the other day - and normally, his friends...but that was a sensitive topic with him these days. He simply couldn't get over it. What was wrong with everyone here? Alec stared with greater intensity at the words on the page, trying to distract himself.
It was fairly quiet where he was in the library. He had walked a little ways over from philosophy section, since there had been a few other kids over there, probably cramming for a test. The Classics section, though, was quite strangely empty. Surely the students of Norrington weren't that uncultured? But maybe they were. It wasn't the most expensive school in the world. It came with a price-tag, of course, and had a reasonable amount of prestige, but it wasn't one of those that was so hard to get into that your acceptance warranted a celebration including nearly every member of your extended family. Perhaps his parents were simply extravagant.
Because it was so quiet in that part of the library, Alec was alert and extraordinarily receptive towards sounds. Someone walking through the aisles a little ways away was enough to catch his ear. Alec immediately looked up from the text, looking around blankly - much like a sloth. In fact, he felt like a sloth, just sitting here reading when he could be out doing something much more proactive. He peered towards the bookshelves, hearing a hissed whisper that sounded like someone was in pain. A paper cut, maybe? Alec hoped that whoever it was didn't get any blood on the books. He hated opening a library book to find that someone had left crumbs or bodily fluids behind. It was disgusting, quite frankly. And since he normally preferred to buy books, rather than take them out on lend, deluding himself into thinking that other people hadn't touched the pages with grimy fingers didn't work if they had left obvious traces behind.
Curious, Alec set his book down on the small desk beside the chair, and made his way over to the aisle from which he had heard the noise. He wasn't really meaning to pry - he just wanted to see if there was an issue. Alec's eyebrow quirked almost instinctively upon seeing the dark-haired girl in a rather precarious position. He stepped forward quite rapidly, removing the books that seemed to be causing her so much strain. After all, he couldn't very well leave her there looking so desperate.
"Are you alright, Mademoiselle...?" he inquired, gesturing to her arm, which seemed to have been put under a considerable amount of stress. He didn't know her - although he was fairly sure he had seen her around once or twice - but she was attractive enough, he supposed. Not, of course, that he judged people solely on looks. Alec glanced down briefly at the books she had been supporting. Definitely not an idiot. Alec offered her a gentle smile. At least he didn't have to worry about her being a complete airhead.
TAG; indigo/open
NOTES;
LYRICS; our lady peace
WORDS; six zero eight
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Post by indigo christian lyle on Feb 14, 2010 11:01:06 GMT -5
louder than sirens, louder than bells------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- sweeter than heaven, hotter than hellShe stopped moving her arms, looking down with a fairly frustrated silence, her mind working for a solution that didn't involve noise. Her only free hand was holding the book she had originally pulled out, the arm above balancing half of the second novel on it. She couldn't get the book off her arm without putting the first down, but there was no surface available nearby aside from the floor. In any case, if she did bend to the floor, to ensure her wish of staying relatively quiet was kept, she would have to drop her arms somewhat. Either way, the book would surely land with some sort of a thud and draw attention to her that, frankly, she was far too lazy to deal with. The students here were, as a whole, fairly stuck up, of course there were the few exceptions, but she could be sure at least some of the youths in here wouldn't take too kindly to her causing any sort of discord, accidental or not.
As someone rounded the corner, a sharp flush along the angle of her cheeks began, she could feel the burning sensation on her skin. She turned marginally, her dark curtain of hair providing an admittedly poor shelter from the gaze of which ever young man had stumbled into the classics section. Indie angled her shoulder as best she could, hoping that her slight frame could conceal her enough from behind to hide that fact that she had essentially been standing helplessly holding two books that were obviously more trouble than they were worth, for the last three minutes. Perhaps she looked captivated by the written word, lost in some internal debate about motifs of themes. Alternately, she just looked a bit stupid. She could deal with that, but still, there was something about dead silence that magnified any unfortunate little incident by a thousand. Bloody books.
The young man spoke, she had to turn now. It would be sensationally rude not to, though she wagered that she would sooner be rude than be any more embarrassed. Still, better respond. Almost instantaneously, the offending book was removed from her arms. Though she wasn't one for ostentatious showers of gratitude, the relief of pain from her sprained wrist set a languid smile on her face. She wiped it off as soon as she was able, replacing it with kirbed thanks. "I'm fine " she said, probably a little too abrasive, but she wasn't good at measuring that sort of thing. Mademoiselle? Really, the boys here had a few tricks up their sleeves for captivating the ladies, but there was no need for international charm. Then again, his accent was a bit suspect, perhaps he really was French. "I just.." she looked up, brushing her hair out of her face so that she wasn't completely obscured. He was fairly attractive, he sort of looked like he could be foreign. She gestured, somewhat irritated, at the book in his hand. "It fell when I got this.." she waved her own book "down. I couldn't catch it..." She would have added 'with my wrist', but the cuff was fairly pretentious, no doubt he had already gathered she was injured. Still, he had helped her, though she hadn't exactly asked for it. At least if she was making noise, she wasn't alone in the disturbance. Besides, if she got called up, she could always play the damsel in distress. It would be a laugh to anyone who knew her, but she wasn't exactly tight with the librarian. "Thankyou." she added hastily, the word quite devoid of much intonation.
notes none!
words six zero two
song low shoulder - toro y moi
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Post by alecsander lee devere on Feb 14, 2010 12:32:39 GMT -5
walked around my good intentions [/color] found that there were none[/color] - - - - -[/color][/center]
Alec was definitely unused to having the opposite sex around. Sure, he recognized that women were pretty much everywhere, making the world go 'round and suchlike, but really? After ten years of schooling in all-boys environments, females were still quite a mystery to him. Yes, he read books and watched movies, and found that the female characters were often so much more complex than their male counterparts, which was something he found utterly sexist, and so those portrayals of women and girls had to be entirely false. He wasn't a fool enough to believe that all women were damsels in distress, waiting to be saved. They were steadily having the world acknowledge them as leaders, as innovators, as the future of the world, and they were. Alec wouldn't dispute that.
But he just didn't get it.
Psychology wasn't his forte, especially when it came to the minds of the other gender, who were proven to have brains that functioned with noticeable variations to those of males. Because of this, he generally tried to keep an open mind when it came to the reactions of females to...well, to anything. But even so, he was surprised when the dark-haired girl replied with an audible amount of irritation. Perhaps she was...embarrassed? Alec knew that if he had ever been caught in the middle of trying to juggle an armful of books that he wouldn't be feeling too proud of himself, but really, was that necessary? He tried not to take it personally.
Alec watched intently - although he tried to keep his eyes moving to avoid looking like he was staring, even though he really was - as the girl brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. Alec was trying to commit her face to memory; she was a rather pretty girl, and if he was to run into her again, he didn't want to be so rude as to be unable to put her face to a name. If she ever gave him her name, that is. Although Alec couldn't imagine a situation where she wouldn't. He wouldn't ask rudely, and he liked to think of himself as a person that appeared trustworthy - oblivious to the fact that everything about him screamed 'player' - so there really was no reason for this girl to think that giving her name was a bad idea, right?
He listened to her explanation, nodding absently. The library wasn't the most hostile of environments, but her story hadn't seemed entirely unreasonable. If she had been trying to carry the books back to her dorm in that manner, well, that would have been a different story. Alec generally disliked talking to idiots. Generally. Sometimes they could be entertaining.
"No matter," he replied with a small shrug. Alec gestured to the book the girl had chosen. "Good choice." He had to be polite, especially since it was his first time meeting the girl. First impressions were quite important, in his mind. Alec generally tended to remember his first meeting with just about everyone. It was a good way to judge character, most of the time. And then, of course, there were the times when he was wrong. But he didn't like to think about those. Right now, he was getting mixed signals from this girl. It didn't appear as though she was ready to drive a hot poker through his abdomen, but she wasn't swooning at the sight of him, either. He supposed that was a good thing. Living life with such extremes could quickly get tiring. And boring. Alec absolutely loathed being bored.
TAG; indie/open
NOTES;
LYRICS; our lady peace
WORDS; six one zero
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Post by indigo christian lyle on Feb 14, 2010 13:27:57 GMT -5
louder than sirens, louder than bells------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- sweeter than heaven, hotter than hellNo matter? Perhaps not to him, Indigo felt now like a prize fool. Though she was thankful for him relieving the pressure on her sore wrist (she didn't care to admit it or make much of a scene, but the pain was fairly substantial when a rather sizable novel was dropped onto your weak wrist) for the sake of her pride, she would really rather he hadn't strolled round the corner, all dark eyes and effortlessly chic. Perhaps if he had been somewhat more gawky, maybe very plain looking, she wouldn't have minded so much, but Indigo found it was easier to be less embarrassed around people who weren't quite so lovely looking. That was probably a terrible thing to think, but it was true. If Indie had tripped up, say, in front of a young lady with frizzy hair, thick glasses and a somewhat shy disposition, she wouldn't have felt too bad. Perhaps a little silly, but it would lift soon enough, but she often found beautiful people were naturally intimidating, even if they happened to have the sweetest nature with a ten mile radius. If she were to trip on a maverick paving stone, and some radiant, ethereal blonde girl had helped her up, she would have bet her months pay check they there would be a sharp scarlet flush along her angular cheeks, as she was sure there was now.
She smiled a little awkwardly. Indigo was aware, sometimes, that she could be a little abrasive, but on the whole, she didn't exactly mean to. Indie, for the most part, had a lot on her plate, and she could be a little irritable. It was rarely the persons fault, and though she sometimes felt sorry afterwards, her aggressive nature was also teamed with the not so welcome stubbornness - something which she probably developed in reaction to her weak willed mother. Even if she felt awful, she wasn't exactly going to start apologizing. In any case, she didn't feel bad for most of the people in her school. A lot of them weren't exactly sweetness and light themselves. Good choice. She looked down to the book in her hand, Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell. It was a good book. She was surprised that this young man held any authority on the book to deem it anything. Most youths weren't terribly interested in it, she was impressed. "Uh, yeah. Its an old favourite of mine..." she said, a hint of interest in her voice. It was true, those two words gave her some solace. She liked the thought that perhaps some people appreciated something other than The OC box set. "You've read it?" she asked, turning the book in her hand a little. Perhaps, seeing as she was assuming he wasn't from America let alone California, they appreciated good writing more in Europe. Maybe she would visit there one day.
The young man was definitely good looking, with a sort of refinement that, rightly or wrongly, she didn't associate with the star of the football team. Though she could be wrong, she supposed it was more skill than first impressions that counted for that. He was well dressed too, not overly thought out, but chic all the same. His hair was neither too short nor too long, and seemed to suit his face perfectly. She couldn't tell whether the length was merely convenience or maintained because it did suit him, but she would bet that it was the latter. She couldn't place him around school, but then again, she rarely took note of what was going on around her, regardless of her location. She realized, fairly suddenly, that they had been standing in silence for a little while, and that she all at once felt uneasy. "I'm Indigo." she stated, with more of an intention to fill the silence than to give him any information on herself. Though he gave her no reason to at present, Indie thought perhaps he might be a little self-important. She couldn't blame him though, really, he was a fairly nice looking young man.
notes sorry, i got distracted by cake -.-
words six nine one
song end credits - chase & status
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Post by alecsander lee devere on Feb 14, 2010 14:07:15 GMT -5
walked around my good intentions [/color] found that there were none[/color] - - - - -[/color][/center]
Alec returned the girl's smile, although he couldn't help but feel that hers was slightly uncomfortable. A slew of worried thoughts flashed briefly through his mind. Was he being too forward? Had he offended her somehow? Did he have pen marks on his face? He hoped not. It would have been horridly embarrassing to walk around like that, and very discouraging since no one had pointed it out. He managed to restrain himself from lifting a hand up to his face, even though that wouldn't have served any real purpose. Alec knew that he couldn't very well check now, and the girl seemed to possess the decency to tell him if that were the case.
The girl had long dark hair - which was obvious, of course - something that Alec generally found quite attractive. Her features were slightly more angular, which gave her a slight air of sophistication, Alec thought. He found that baby-faced, big-eyed girls got boring quite quickly. On the subject of eyes, hers were rather intense, captivating, really. He doubted she was a freshman, since she first of all looked older, but secondly, she didn't have that earnest, doe-eyed look that the little fourteen-year-olds all seemed to possess. Ninth graders were really just overgrown tweens - why ever were they put in high school? But this girl was probably a Senior, since he didn't recall seeing her in any of his classes.
When she spoke next, he caught on to the tiniest hint of interest. Good. At least she wasn't totally bored with him already. That would have been yet another enormous blow to his ego, which had already taken quite the beating since the beginning of his year here at Norrington. "I have. My class did the French translation of Animal Farm in sixth grade. I suppose his writing has intrigued me since." Alec considered the author quite clever, very subtle in his comparisons and profoundly fascinating. After Animal Farm, he'd sought Orwell's books in English. The French translations certainly didn't do them justice. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong idea of this girl at first - she wasn't just a pretty face. At least someone on this side of the ocean appreciated literature.
It was quite pathetic, actually, how the big city American kids lived. There was more to life than teen drama. Although he might not look it, Alec made sure everything he did contributed to his future. Being well-read was of great importance to him, along with dressing smartly. Appearing proper and put-together made a good first impression, as well as adding to your confidence. It could also, he had learned, get you a part-time job that involved only walking and posing. His agency paid quite well, better he believed, than he was really worth, not that he would object, of course. Alec's eyes looked Indigo up and down quickly. She seemed interesting - or not shallow, at the very least.
"I'm Alec," he introduced himself with a small nod of the head and a polite smile. "It's a pleasure." This basic sort of social interaction was within his grasp. He'd been taught from a very young age how to behave properly, and so although he couldn't really understand females, he could still, at the very least, do all the little pleasantries. Or so he hoped, anyway. It was quite possible that this Indigo - a rather pretty name, he thought - was only pretending to tolerate his presence and actually hated his guts. Alec blinked twice, trying to chase such thoughts from his head. The time for feeling sorry for himself was over, for the time being.
TAG; indie
NOTES;
LYRICS; our lady peace
WORDS; six one three
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Post by indigo christian lyle on Feb 14, 2010 15:10:02 GMT -5
louder than sirens, louder than bells------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- sweeter than heaven, hotter than hellIndigo folded her arm into her waist, the book tucked between her fingers and her side, listening at the young man spoke. Initially, she found herself listening to his accent, the softness of the vowels the fluidity with which he spoke, it was an appealing sound to listen to. Though she was aware of his eloquence, regardless of his accent, she was internally captivated for a moment simply by his accent. Indigo appreciated mostly anything that deviated for the normal, if not only for it being unique. This young man, could, for all she knew, be an infuriating, egotistical jerk, but at least when he spoke, it sounded nice. She hadn't come into contact with anyone with a French accent in her life, perhaps in a movie but it wasn't the same. People in movies didn't intrigue you as much as they did in real life, it was far more interesting to listen to such a voice on a one to one basis. Clearing her throat almost inaudibly, she paid a little more attention to the actual words he spoke rather than the manner in which they left his lips. It seemed a fairly good idea if she was planning on replying, rather than just stand there staring blankly like an idiot.
"Thats impressive." she admitted. It was. Translating all of animal farm into another language sounded gruesome to her. Of course, she couldn't speak any other languages, and her limited, classroom experience of the ones she did study didn't exactly count as fluent. To her, it would be a nightmare, but then, this young man's English was impeccable. She assumed that he was totally fluent, if not mostly, and so it didn't seem too bad. "Still, I prefer this one." she said lifting her arm with the book under it slightly to demonstrate her point. It was true, she had read this particular book such a great deal of times, that coming to the library was now her only way of reading it. Her own copy had all but fallen apart, and was missing both covers as well as various pages. Indigo wasn't exactly sure why she still had the book, but she didn't labor the point in her head too much. It was inconsequential. Her fingers ran slowly along the stretch of the pages absent mindedly. She glanced again at his appearance, he was well dressed and well presented, Indie though perhaps that he might be self-obsessed, which bothered her, but he was well spoken, seemingly intelligent and appreciated a good book. She was sure she could stomach at least a small degree of self-importance. Though, probably, not without complaint.
Alec, nice name. Indigo liked slightly more sturdy sounding names on men. She wasn't a fan of all the Kyles and Jakes running around. Surely not everyone was a surfer. There was no need to insinuate that a good portion of American teens were. "Which part of France are you from?" she asked. It was a pointless question, she had probably seen a map of France at some point, but she couldn't recall it, and it made no difference to her where he had lived previously. "Not that I've been or anything." she added with a slight shrug. She could see him hailing from Paris. Paris meant fashion to her. Aside from the capital city, she couldn't even name anywhere else in the country. Indie loved the idea of travel, and probably would jump at the chance to visit France if she had the chance, but she didn't have time for that. Seeing as her mother was wholly useless human being, she contributed a large part to their living expenses, which meant she had neither the time nor money to have any clue about French, or any other, culture. It was a shame, but a reality she didn't think too much about.
notes none!
words six five four
song paint it black - rolling stones
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Post by alecsander lee devere on Feb 14, 2010 16:36:56 GMT -5
walked around my good intentions [/color] found that there were none[/color] - - - - -[/color][/center] His parents used to always look at him strangely when he'd come home for the holidays from France. Every time he spoke to them, tried to start up a conversation at dinner, they would exchange the briefest of looks, bite their lips, glance downwards and then turn their eyes to him with the strangest expressions on their faces for the longest time, he couldn't understand why. But eventually, he understood.
The Devere's were a proudly American family. They represented everything American - freedom, power, wealth. Alec's parents listened to their son and heard a stranger. A stranger whose voice rose and fell with a fluidity that belonged solely to the French. A stranger who rolled his 'r's, swallowed his 'h's. In English, Alec spoke with flawless grammar that not even fellow anglophone children possessed. Even so, they heard the obvious accent that had grown so natural to him over the eight years, and they disapproved. But Alec wasn't about to change anything. The moment he turned eighteen and graduated, he was booking it back to France for his continued education.
He nodded along with her words. "It is more...complex," he conceded. Nineteen Eighty-Four was, in his mind, a more advanced piece of literature. However cleverly done Animal Farm was, it didn't really hold quite that same sense of intrigue. He was happy to note that she seemed to be losing the immediate hostility she had first presented him with. He could hardly imagine what the conversation would be like now if she had continued to be so abrasive. If that had been the case, actually, he probably would have tried to find some way to excuse himself from her presence. As it was, he was beginning to grow slightly more comfortable with the current situation.
Alec smiled patiently. "I'm not actually French-born, but I did spend my entire childhood in Dijon for school." It was an easy enough mistake to make. He spoke like a Frenchman, and, he supposed, he possessed the look of one, as well. Alec wasn't entirely sure about that, but it had been said to him before, so he supposed it must be true on some counts. "I had actually hoped to attend high school in Nice, in the south." Alec shrugged. He was still a little miffed about that, although he tried not to show it. "It's a beautiful country, it really is."
Great. Now he was starting to feel homesick. Alec forced a kind smile onto his face, although it probably looked fake. Everything in America was so completely different. It was louder, dirtier, busier, and full of spoiled children with no manners. Alec was maybe - or definitely - spoiled, but he certainly recognized proper conduct and abided by it. "It's a wonderful place to visit," he added, somewhat unsure of what to say.
It was difficult for him to maintain a conversation with girls when his main objective wasn't to get into their pants. He had all the right seduction tactics engraved on the inside of his skull - figuratively, of course - but when it came to making pleasant conversation, he generally found little to discuss. Alec found himself wishing that she'd move the subject back to literature. That was always something he could readily debate. And Orwell was especially good for that, too. Not really having much else to do, Alec smiled at her again. When in doubt, smile. That was what he was generally told. If you were doing a play and you suddenly forgot your lines, smiling was always an option. If you messed up epically during a presentation, smiling was good, too. Better than running out in tears, anyway.
TAG; indie
NOTES;
LYRICS; our lady peace
WORDS; six two five
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