entrancelogs | [021] & [005]

[There's a girl about fourteen on the swings in the corner, but she isn't exactly enthusiastic about it. Her feet are dragging along the sand as she swings slowly back and forth, her expression sombre. It looks like she's been crying: her eyes are slightly puffy and red, tear streaks on her cheeks.]

[Jesse'd been so intent on scribbling his latest masterpiece on the side of the maintenance building that he hadn't seen or heard the girl approaching the swings, but she doesn't have to wait long before catching his attention; the time it takes him to set his spray can down and head over to her is even less, because come on-- like he's gonna pass up the chance to check her out.

He's wiping his hands on his jeans as he approaches, staining the front with green in a way that almost looks intentional, artful... Though the cigarette pinched between his lips probably ruins the effect, as does the beanie that's pulled down to his eyebrows. Other than that he looks... Almost the same as usual: sans-scruff, a bit shorter, and if possible, even skinnier.

His demeanor is just about identical, too, the way he makes his way over to the girl all fifteen year old inflated ego despite the fact that he hasn't even recognized her yet.

There's a smile on his face as he walks... But it does dull somewhat once her body language registers as Less Than Thrilled, and it melts into a full-blown frown at the tear tracks when he's close enough to spot them.

Suddenly feeling a little out of his element, he stuffs a hand into his pocket.]

Hey-- Hey, uh... You okay?

[Look, he even has the decency to blow his smoke away from her. Such a gentleman...]

[Being home schooled, Bela didn't have much interaction with anyone close to her age. She didn't have any siblings to speak of either, and she believed that her parents didn't want her to have any friends.

So when she sees a boy coming towards her- one who looked intimidating, even if he was on the skinny side, she freezes. It's probably because of the clothes he was wearing and the cigarette in his mouth. He looked like a Bad Boy.

When he asks her a question, she makes something that sounds like a squeak, hurriedly wiping at her eyes in a effort to get rid of the remaining tears. Then she tries to look intimidating herself.]

Yes. I am. What do you want?

[A Bad Boy, huh? SCORE, bitches, that's what doing it right looks like.

Except that it's having the opposite of the effect he'd been looking for. Bummer. Still, he's not entirely deterred by her less than enthusiastic response. His brows knit together as he flicks some ash off to the side.]

Want? Uh, nothing. I don't want anything. [...Weirdo.] Just, uh-- [Making sure you're good cuz you're crying and you're cute, you know...] Not a whole lot of people over here, you know? There was a dude and then another dude, but I think they went inside...

[And regardless of his age, he's not a huge fan of being alone. He nods at the concrete wall of what he's guessing are bathrooms across from the swings.]

You mind if I do my thing over there? [He rattles his spray paint.] Totally running out of space.

[He offers her his very best puppy dog face; not only is he aware he has that capability, he's also more than willing to use it to get his way. There's some genuine hopefulness there, too, of course- he'll bounce if she wants, but he'd rather not.]

[Yes, a bad boy. The kind that she shouldn't be near because they were ~dangerous~]

So you just came over to talk? [She eyes him suspiciously, crossing her arms across her chest. He also talked funny and should he really be smoking? He looked too young.

As for being alone? She doesn't like it either. Still continuing to watch him, she looks over at where he was nodding to, at the empty wall; maybe he wanted to do more graffiti.]

Probably because you used up most of the space already. [So there. The puppy dog face won't deter her. It won't. Even if he was a little cute, he was still bad. No boys ever came up to talk to her. She doesn't know how to deal with them.]

What are you going to do?

[PSHAW, BELA. Everyone knows the Bad Guys have more fun. They're like the blondes of the dude world. Or something.]

To see what's good-- [And he nods.] And yeah, uh... I've kinda been at it for a while. It's nice to be outside without freezing your ass off, you know? Anyway... This wall can't be the only one without a picture on it, right? I'm gonna, uh, whaddaya call it. Spruce it up, or whatever. [He grins.] Give it a little character.

[Maybe a specific character, actually; he's just had a stroke of inspiration, you see...]

That cool?

Hm, I suppose the weather is nice outside.

[Such language, Jesse. She should be appalled. But maybe he wasn't a bad guy after all, given how nice he was being to her at the moment.]

But aren't you going to get into trouble for doing that to the wall? You're not supposed to really do that, you know. [She does smile faintly, feeling rebellious for even talking to the "bad boy".]

Cool? Um, maybe. [A beat.] What's your name?

[Ooooh, are you scandalized, Bela? Hell yeah.

His grin widens at her question, too, and he tips his chin up just a bit with his response. Watch out, Wonderland, we got a badass over here.]

So? What're they gonna do, put me in time out? This place is magic, yo, we can totally do whatever we want. [He ducks back to his now-abandoned spot to scoop up his paint before moving to set the cans down in front of his shiny new canvas.]

And it's Jesse. You?

[NEVER MIND THAT HE WAS LITERALLY JUST TALKING TO HER YESTERDAY... Wonderland is a magical place where magical things happen to memories and the ability to recognize friends in other shapes and sizes, okay??

While he's waiting for her response, he cracks open a can of paint- red, like the bars of the swing set she's parked on- and shakes it up before pushing up on his toes to draw the first line, a giant horizontal slash across the highest part of the wall he can reach.]

[Perhaps a little scandalised.

Anyway. She's skeptical about the 'magic' part because it doesn't exist and maybe he was just yanking her chain, giving her a made up reason in order to have her do something she knows she shouldn't.]

What we want?

[Interesting. She's not allowed to do whatever she wants in her own home.]

I'm Abby. It's lovely to meet you, Jesse. [Impeccable manners, just like mummy and daddy taught her.

Her memories are a little fuzzy at the moment and really, she should be freaked out at being away from a place she didn't recognise. The truth was, she was relieved to be away from her parents, even if it was for a short time.

She cranes her neck to see what he was spraying, noting the colour. Of course, she couldn't tell what he was going to draw, not when he had just begun.]

[Then Jesse's work here is done.

...Or, well, not really, since he's only just getting started; the slashes of paint against the wall are starting to look distinctly swingset-esque as he turns back to her when she gives her name.]

Abby? What's that, short for like Abigail? [He grins.] Pretty cute. [He bends to grab another colour to work with.] So where're you from, Abby?

[He turns again to keep his eyes on the wall, but he's definitely listening- he's guessing she isn't feeling super chatty and isn't trying to put her on the spot or anything.]

[It's unlike any kind of artwork that she has seen before. Drawing on the walls would be forbidden at home and Abby didn't have much of an artistic streak.]

Mh hm. [A light blush forms on her cheeks when he says 'cute. No one really said that to her.]

Can't you tell? I'm from England. [Well, duh. Shouldn't the accent be a give away?] I know you're American. I just don't know what state you come from. [Yep, she's a well-read, smart fourteen year old with parental issues.]

[It's a really, really good thing he can't see that flush, because his ego might make his head explode if he could.]

Well I mean I figured, but you know. [And then he laughs.] And yeah, absolutely. Born and raised and whatever-- New Mexico. It's not like New York or Minnesooota, though- [Did you catch his pitiful attempt at that accent? He tried, really. ~~Tried so hard and go so far but in the end it didn't sound like that accent at all Jesse why~~] -Or those dudes from Jersey Shore. Pretty generic, like... Accent-wise.

[All that to say- yeah. Definitely American.

The picture on the wall is starting to take form, albeit slowly; by this point it's pretty obviously a swing set in one point perspective, and there's a dark block of colour that looks vaguely like a figure perched on the swing closet to the foreground...

Getting there.]

So, England... Isn't it like, always raining there? Or cloudy?

[Considering the fact that she's never heard a Minnesota accent, she didn't catch it.] I know of those places but I've never been to any of them.

[But America did sound like an exciting country to visit. Maybe she would go there one day when she was old enough, seek another opportunity. Home was beginning to stifle her and she needed to get out of there as soon as possible.]

Not always. Sometimes we get really lovely summers. You know the kind that is perfect for going to the beach. [Now she wants ice cream and fish and chips at the seaside. England wasn't completely awful.]

New Mexico? Is it hot all of the time there? [While she waits for his answer, Abby takes a look at the wall to see how he was developing the artwork. She was beginning to suspect that she was his inspiration for it.]

[It's... For the best. Seriously.]

Man, I haven't been to the beach in, like... I don't even know, like seven years. Not since I was a kid. [Because he's totally not a kid anymore. Nope.] It's mad far, like half a day far. And no, not like you'd think, we have seasons and stuff... Not a whole lot of snow but it gets cold as hell sometimes and especially at night.

[Sahara-esque it is not.

If Jesse notices the way Abby's looking the wall over, he doesn't say anything, just keeps on truckin', reaching for the blue paint. After a few seconds of squinting, he shakes it up and starts to go to town; it's not perfect, but when he steps back, the figure is slightly more detailed: downcast eyes (or, well, a face, he hasn't gotten that far yet), a sheet of wavy hair falling in front, a hand gripping one of the chains.

Coming along.]

They're not kidding about the snakes and spiders, though, they're all over the place. Mad tarantulas, like out in the brush and whatnot.

I like snow. [She can deal with this kind of conversation. Simple smalltalk without getting too personal.] It's a pity the beach is so far away for you, but then America is a big country. [Abby thinks for a moment.] Oh! I read somewhere that deserts can get really cold at nighttime. That's interesting, don't you think?

[She doesn't mind too much if he didn't reply to her because he was busy with his artwork, and she wants to see how it turns out anyway. It was fascinating to watch, and she leans in closer to look at it, beginning to realise that it was her that he was making of a picture of.

The smile she had on her face was the widest its ever been.]

Killer snakes and spiders? Like the ones in Australia?

[He's missing out; facing the wall is screwing him out of getting to see that smile.

Bummer.]

Mmm, yeah, it's pretty weird. I was camping one time and we got stuck out at night-- totally thought I was gonna die, it was freezing. Like, couldn't move my hands freezing...

[But then they built a robot and escaped.

Huh. Something's a little off about that. ...Oh well. He continues with his work as he gets to the next question:]

Like the giant ones that eat birds? Nah, not that big. Like-- Like fist-sized. And kinda furry. [They're cute. ...He likes spiders, don't judge him.] ...There's black widows and stuff though, those're just as bad. I knew a guy who got bit by like a brown recluse... It like melted his finger.

[An exaggeration, but you know. Gotta keep things interesting.]

Oh my goodness. I'm glad you were all right.

[She doesn't know if he was telling the truth or not, but the story was a little riveting to say the least. Abby had never met anyone who lived near a desert and camped out at night. The people she met were stuffy and boring- friends of her parents. Her other relatives weren't much to boast about either.]

Fist-sized is still big. I don't think I'd like them too much. [Or at all because ew.] What?! No. It couldn't have melted his finger- a spider bite wouldn't do that to someone. You're not being serious, right? Right, Jesse?

Totally serious. They're like mad poisonous. I mean most of them are but they can't do anything to us cuz we're so much bigger, right? But a couple different kinds can seriously fuck you up--

[Another arc of his arm, another slash of paint, bright blue this time.

It should look like hair. Hopefully.]

Those brown ones are crazy, can't mess around with those...

The more I hear, the less it makes me want to go to New Mexico.

[It sounds terrifying. Even if she was the one who brought up the subject of spiders in the first place.]

You should go to England. We don't have any killer spiders or snakes or anything and you can go see Buckingham Palace in London. See Big Ben. All the sights. Or you could go into the countryside.

All the sights, huh? [Turning around with a grin, he makes a show of shaking his spray can even though it's entirely unnecessary.] They big on art in England...?

They are! We have the Tate Gallery and there is a lot of art in the museums. [She grins at him in return.] I really think you would like it.

[His smirk mellows into an actual smile; he'd been hinting at scrawling something obscene on the side of one of those national landmarks or whatever they were... But Abby's just so (adorably) enthused about it he can't bring himself to rain on her parade.

...Entirely.]

Yeah? I don't know, galleries are kinda lame. There's one inside, but it's all, like, old crap. Someone should do a graffiti gallery. Or like a comic gallery, you know, get some Jim Lee in there--

[The figure has a face! A blue face, literally and figuratively, blue and white and nowhere near as lovely as the "model", but hey. Pablo Picasso he ain't.]

Then maybe you should help to create a non lame gallery. You're good at art so why not?

[She looks at the graffiti, noticing the face. It did resemble her, even if he used a bit of artistic license with it. Abby doesn't care though. He did something nice for her.]

You drew me. [The smile on her face is bright, reaching her eyes. Her tears are long forgotten about.] Thank you. No one has ever done such a lovely thing for me before and we haven't known each other for long.

[Jesse doesn't know what to say to that compliment- he doesn't get them very often- but he absolutely colours a little bit at her thanks, ducking his head and all but scuffing his shoe against the blacktop.

AW, SHUCKS.]

You, uh-- Looked good sitting there. [Except for the whole crying thing.] I mean, kinda sad but. You know.

[In that pretty artsy way.]

...So you like it?

Now I'm not sad.

[She hasn't been this happy in since..well, ever really.]

I do like it. A lot. It's different and I've never been the inspiration for anything before so this is a good feeling.

[The last thing she expected to see was a hint of colour in Jesse's cheeks but it was kind of endearing. So much so that she gets off the swing and moves over to him, going up on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek lightly, pulling back almost immediately.]

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Prob is short for Abigail. Rolls with it anyway

awwwwwwww yeah

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