Faithe Browning

Wed 11:40PM EST
Her cold, pink finger tips open the book at the placemark and she sighs settling the spine on her knee. There is a frown that appears quite unexpectedly upon her lips. An ash of some sort had managed to land on the open pages, in some places she thought it's glowing embers would burn away at the old pages.

The ash seems far to copious for cigarette tapings....and as the mystery slowly dawned over her expression the young woman lifts her head to peer up at the angry dark heavens, and then behind her ... while those hazel eyes reflect the frown painted on her lips.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Wed 11:54PM EST
When Faithe turns to look around, there's someone standing there that hadn't been there when she sat. There's nothing supernatural about it, though. Just a pair of feet and penchant for quiet. His footsteps lead back through the snow, soon to be covered.

The man himself, then. Two inches over six feet, which is not unimpressive in its own right. His bearing makes him seem taller, though, as though his blood were royal, as though his family has known the trappings of power for many generations. Nouveau riche never get this particular aura: it's something developed only when one has been steeped in privilege since before the womb. His clothing is, however, unremarkable. Though the fabrics are of high quality, he wears a simple greatcoat, slacks, a scarf and gloves. All dark. His hair is similarly dark, though under the right light it might have a goldish sheen. It's his eyes which are unusual - a tawny hazel hue so light it's very nearly ambertoned.

"Snow," he states the obvious to the woman with the book, with a small smile. His eyes flicker up to the sky, pointing, and are back to her. "Are you waiting for the bus?" It seems the bench is a busstop.


Faithe Browning

Thu 12:02AM EST
There's a moment of quiet confusion that settles over her expression. Silent question echoes through out her eyes and it is with quiet regard that she peers over her shoulder at the stranger. Faithe silently offers a small to the stranger, it is a polite offer .. nothing more nothing less.

She turns, the thick head of hair spilling in a messy brown sheen over the back of the bench, her bare fingers wipe at the pages of her book, just to be certain that none of the ashes that once seemed to glow so brilliantly, have burned away the text she so eagerly observes.

There is a quiet moment when she considers speaking. Offering a timid hello ... how are you ...what the fuck are you looking at....but she says nothing ... instead.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 12:10AM EST
The smile is a polite offer. His? May have been even less. There's something about him: the gentle smile; the voice low and smooth, like well-aged wine, like dark wood; the manner easy and amused - that could easily intimidate rather than soothe, if he wielded it just right. The gentleness of his manner, one senses, comes not from some caring nature but from a sort of confidence that he has nothing to fear, and so needs not be hostile. It's the sort of gentleness that could very easily swerve.

But we digress. As he receives no reply (do you blame her? No one speaks to strangers in this day and age anymore), he doesn't press the matter. Leaning back against the wall of the building behind the busstop, he tugs his gloves higher, his sleeve lower. Many minutes pass and no bus comes. He's not the type you'd expect to take public transportation, but here he is nonetheless. Appearances deceive, or so they say.

Quite some time later, he speaks up again. "Have you got the time?"


Faithe Browning

Thu 12:18AM EST
There are small glances over her shoulder as she brushes her hair back .. or scratches and itch....little movements that are no more than feeble attempts to hide her peeks at the strange man. She comes here every night to read this book. It doesn't matter that she's read it a hundred times. She'll likely read it a hundred more. But Konrad's presence behind her makes her flesh crawl and the hairs along the back of her neck lift to nervous attention.

When he speaks, tense muscles flex and she jumps, her eyes closing slowly as she mentally tries to slow the quick beating of her heart. There are not many that care if their actions offend others these days, yet Faithe does. If she stood and left, that would be rude. He would think she left because of him, and she cannot bring herself to be so mean.

"Yeah ..." She replies, pushing up the fat sleeve of her coat to peer at the sports watch on her arm. The fat black band holds more gadgets and buttons than a PDA. "20 after midnight ..." Turning slightly she offers Konrad another polite smile as her mind attempts to figure out why this man makes her skin rise with goose flesh.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 12:24AM EST
"Thank you," replies the stranger, courteously enough. Old World manners if you will, but really it's just a matter of remembering what ever schoolboy is taught in kindergarten. Or by hosts of private tutors, as it were.
A beat later, "Nice watch."

If he notices her discomfort, he is polite enough to ignore it. It's hard to say what it is that disconcerts her so. No glaring deformities, no frothing at the mouth. He stands quietly, keeping to himself, but still those eyes sheen with the gleam of a predator's when he glances down the road to check for the bus.


Faithe Browning

Thu 12:31AM EST
And that was it. Swallowing the knot forming quite quickly in the middle of her throat, Faithe realized that it was the way the man looked at her that set her on edge so. Like prey. He looked at her like she was no better than a rabbit, and he the cunning Wolf. There's another polite smile, however the faint glimmer of that expression does not touch her eyes this time.

"Hmm? Oh, the watch ...thank you...it does everything." She offers, her head and eyes dropping in a rather submissive manner, allowing thick portions of chestnut hair to fall forward against the sharp angles of her jaw and chin. Independent to the point of being irritating, it was not in her nature to dip her head to a man, or to behave so .... demurely. Yet, there it was ....shifting her weight in the suddenly icy feeling bench seat she closes her book. "I'm not sure how late the busses run around here..."


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 12:37AM EST
"One a.m.," he replies - that quiet confidence that he was, is, and will be correct. His attention is still somewhere down the road, at the corner where the bus would turn when it came. In profile, his face is strong, the nose aquiline, the jaw arrogant and firm. There is much of East Europe in his broad, high cheekbones, but there is no accent to his voice, save perhaps the faintest trace of Great Britain. Received Pronunciation, at that. Private tutors. A faint frown, thoughtful, as he adds, "There should be one more 17-bus tonight, if the schedule is accurate."

Then his attention shifts; it goes back to her. The wolf is watching the rabbit again, keenly, and the slightest of smiles touching the edges of his mouth. "It's rather late for you to be out here alone."


Faithe Browning

Thu 12:44AM EST
The rubber soles of her boots touch the ground as she gathers herself to stand. Her knees are weak, and it takes a moment to steady them. His words strike a fearful chord deep in her psyche that she is unaware of. However, she feels it none the less. Fingerless gloves hold tight to her book and she backs up a step or two from the bench she recently vacated, her balance lost for just a moment as the heel of her foot looses its place on the curb.

"I like to read here. I don't live far" She regrets her words the moment she hears them spoken. The rabbit has ducked into it's burrow, with the wolf only a few strides behind. The wind tosses long bits of her hair around her face and without lifting her hands she struggles to free it from her eyes with slight movements of her head.


Konrad Vrdoljiak

Thu 12:56AM EST
His eyes track her as she stands, flashing over the length of her form as though he could read the weakness in her joints from the way she moves - the careful placement of feet, the barest hints of unsteadiness here and there, and there again. His people knew a trick to profit off of those weaknesses...then again, his people were often all about strengthening themselves from another's weakness.

"And that," laughing softly, "is not something you should ever tell a stranger. He might be tempted to follow you home, and not simply to be sure you get there in one piece, hm? - ah, there's the bus."

Laugh subsides to a smile, gentle, merciless as only an predator-animal's, to which death is natural and life is a war, could be. He turns down the road again. Twin headlights set wide apart are turning around the corner, and over them is the glowing route-panel listing the bus line number and the terminal destination. Konrad straightens from the wall, arms coming unfolded to hang loose at his sides. Though the greatcoat covers nearly everything, there is an impression of great strength and agility about him as he steps past her, taking his wallet from his pocket. From the fold he strips two one-dollar bills, and speaks without looking up.

"Thanks again for the time." The bus hisses to a stop before him and the doors open wide. He turns to give her a surprising quick flash of a grin, "Have a safe journey home."


Faithe Browning

Thu 01:01AM EST
By the time he's ready to step on the bus, she's more than ready to be gone from there.....that's never been the case before. His words reach her ears and send a chain reaction of shaking throughout her whole body. It's as if she's chilled, and cannot warm herself.

This time, there is no polite smile. A simple nod is given, and a quiet reply that is nearly drowned out by the hissing and grunting off the behemoth bus. "I realize that now. Have a good day." Her book is clutched so tightly to her chest that the knuckles of her long slender fingers are white from the lack of blood. She starts off home, then, her booted feet hurrying quickly. And when she gets there ... she'll push the chair in front of the door, and lock everything twice and three times ..

Just in case...