It hadn't been so long since his last visit to Jacobson's. The last visit had been eventful, to say the least, but that was totally by accident - not at all his fault. Of course, as far as Wick was concerned, it was rare that anything was his fault. The previous experience at the bookstore didn't stop him from returning, though - he rather liked the place. As little as he actually read books, he did like the smell of them, and the innumerable hiding places they made when stacked up together.

The small faery was sitting on the windowsill, dozing with his face pressed against the glass. He was half-asleep, and was cloaked with a weak glamour that protected him from unfriendly gazes alone. There was a tiny new chip in his already-broken horn. He looked a tad scruffier than usual. It was only because he hadn't felt like being particularly neat, lately.
When you could make it so no one could see you, you didn't have to be neat.

Wick might not read books, but Taryn does. All the time.

At the moment, she's revisiting an old favorite. (No, she won't explain why she likes Vanyel as much as she does. Or even why she likes Mercedes Lackey so much, since there are most definitely better authors out there. But that's a tangent.)

She settled herself by the window with her book and murmured, "Hi, Wick."

And that was all. Funny how far into her imaginary worlds she gets when reading; it always used to drive her mother crazy.

... wait.

Wick!?

Wick was jolted out of his daze by hearing his name spoken. His head jerked up, pulling away from the window. He looked frantically around him for a moment, trying to figure out who on earth would just - well, say hi to him, so casually. That was a rare thing.

Then he saw Taryn.

"Hi," he said, in his smallest voice, shrinking back from her. He was was having a little bit of an inner conflict. He was glad to see her, but this was sure to lead to some awkward questions.

"Haven't seen you in a while," she observed, removing her nose from the book long enough to scrutinize him thoughtfully. "You haven't broken anything recently, have you?"

Meaning has he gotten himself injured seriously again, not has he broken anything belonging to anyone else. Because, knowing Wick, he likely had and wasn't sorry about it, either.

"Where've you been?"

She asks questions in unusual orders, doesn't she.

"Nope, haven't," he said quickly, with an innocent look. He wasn't sure whether she meant him, or some random objects, but decided to go with the less incriminating answer. He wouldn't be sorry to have broken objects,... he probably would be if she yelled at him for it, though.

Well, she can't have spoken to Violet yet, he thought hopefully, certain that she wouldn't be asking these simple kinds of questions if she knew what had happened.

"I've been,... um,... around. 'N stuff..." he said. The look on his face went form innocent to guilty in a fraction of a second.

She gave him a funny look. "Around where?"

And how come he looks like the cat that got caught right before it swallowed the canary?

"How's Violet?"

She hasn't seen the other girl in a while, either, you see. Curious. (That describes both Taryn and the situation, mind.)

"Oh, you know... just, around," he said, squirming under the weight of the question. He didn't realize how guilty he looked. "Like, around the city. Just,... just where I usually go. Nowhere in particular."

He looked at the floor. How was Violet...?
How'm I supposed to know that?

"I dunno..." he mumbled."Okay, i think."

"You think? You mean you don't know? How come?"

This is starting to resemble an interrogation of some sort, though not quite there yet. She hasn't started threatening him, you see, though she might if he doesn't answer anything.

Playful threats, mind. Things like tickling, etc. She wouldn't actually hurt him, you know.

"I just, I don't know," he said, his voice taking on a more meek tone, "If you're so curious why don't you go and ask her, not me. How'm I s'posed to know how she is? Not like I have to keep tabs on her or anything."

Wick blinked up at her. "How are you doing?" he asked, plainly trying to change the subject.

"Well, as I remember, you live with her. And I'm doing fine."

Mostly, anyway.

She'd enrolled in summer classes in order to avoid having to go home for the summer, but it was lonelier than she'd expected, because lots of the students went home, and such.

That, and she hadn't seen Keye or Darcy in quite some time.

"...no I don't..." he mumbled, looking at the floor and twining his fingers together, in the way that he did when he was nervous and wanted to disappear. With a cheerier tone, but still without looking up, he added, "That's nice, that you're doing okay."

Blink.

"When did you stop living with Violet?"

That makes no sense at all to her, suddenly; why would he leave somewhere as nice and safe for him as Violet's residence? And...

Taryn is confused.

He crossed his arms, glaring at the floor.
"Awhile ago. Day 'r two after I last saw you, I think..." he muttered, "It's all her stupid boyfriend's fault... 'f he wasn't such a jerk, maybe she'd still be my friend..."

She frowned and laid the book down, crossing her arms.

"Explain."

"Nnn..." the faery mumbled. He glanced up at her from the corner of one eye, frowning, yet looking unnaturally sad. His gaze quickly fell back to the floor. He was dreading some yelling, or either a guilt-trip, and he wasn't looking forward to either one.

"Her stupid boyfriend can't take a joke," he said, by way of a beginning. "...I was playin' with him. Just a little,... and he can't take a joke, because the big jerk went and stuck me in a bottle.."

Taryn's lips twitched. While it was easy to see why that had upset Wick, she had to admit that the mental image of him in a bottle was remarkably amusing. A pet faery, how fun.

She did not say that, though.

"And...? Then what?"

It was lucky that Wick hadn't seen Taryn's near-smirk. That would upset him enough that he would leave, right then.

"Well,.., he kept me there. For awhile. I think a week, maybe more..." His fingers began locking together again, "Anyway, when I got out, I, um, I paid him back for putting me in a bottle."

He conveniently omitted just how he had paid him back.

"Then he and Violet came in, and she got mad because I'd left without telling her,... She yelled at her boyfriend, too... and she said I,.. if I was gonna leave, that was okay, but not to expect her to pull me out of anymore wrecks."
It wasn't word-for-word, but the spirit remained the same. His voice had grown quieter as the explanation went on, until it was nearly inaudible.

Oh dear.

Taryn didn't say anything for a few moments, not wanting to sound like she was on anyone's side--especially not the boyfriend who she had yet to meet, and who Wick apparently disliked so much. The thoughtful silence stretched, then...

"Mind if I ask Violet about it, too?"

Taryn likes to have all sides of a thing before she makes a judgement.

He swung his legs over the side of the windowsill, swinging his feet and kicking the wall with his heels.
"Yes, I do mind..." he said emphatically, swiftly looking up at Taryn. "You shouldn't ask her, you'll probably just make her mad. Anyway, don't. She's mad enough at me as it is, it's no use bothering her about it..."

"Hm." Pause. "You sure she's mad and not hurt?"

Taryn's a writer--though perhaps not a published author, or even good enough to be one--and she plays with emotional reactions to things all the time. She understands them, sometimes. As long as they aren't her own, anyway.

"How should I know?" he growled, giving the wall a particularly hard kick (for him, anyway), "She was yelling and she wouldn't smile, and she just looked furious. Slammed the door and everything. She seemed pretty angry to me."

"Huh."

She still wants to talk to Violet about it. For one thing, she'd like to know why Violet never bothered to tell her that Wick had left.

"Well... okay. So what have you been up to, then? Where've you been sleeping and stuff?"

Worry, worry.

Glad the subject had been dropped, Wick stopped twining his fingers and kicking the wall. He leaned against the window so that his back was against the glass. He looked up at Taryn, smirking faintly in relief.

"Oh, y'know... like I said - around. Doing what I do best, playing around... made a new friend. That kinda stuff. Nothng really new," he rambled carelessly, "I've been sleeping wherever I want to, pretty much. Sometimes here, 'cause it's quiet."
He shrugged.
"It's easy to find a place to go. There's so many places no one ever thinks to look."

Taryn nodded.

"Would I know this new friend?"

Okay, it's unlikely, but stranger things have happened. It seems like everyone she knows knows everyone else she knows, only she doesn't know it until something odd happens.

"I dunno," Wick shrugged, "I... don't think so. Somehow I don't think she has many friends. Her name's Nienna. I met a coupla people lately. There was this other guy, ... he wasn't so bad once he stopped being angry. But he's not really my friend, 'cause I only saw him the one time."

"Nienna. Her parents must be Tolkien freaks." Sounds like she'd get along well with them, maybe. If they liked the Professor, then she would likely have something interesting to discuss with them, at the least.

Okay, Taryn occasionally jumps to conclusions.

"So what did you do to make the one guy angry? Other than be yourself, 'course."

"Yeah, she said her name was elvish. Like, Tolkien elvish. I remember that," he nodded. He tilted his head to one side, grinning mischievously. "I didn't do anything really bad to that guy. It was raining and we were already wet,... anyway, I got him splashed by a car. It was funny."

Taryn rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure it was."

She's more inclined to be sympathetic to the unknown gentleman than she is to be amused, in this case. Taryn, remember, hates rain and would probably be extremely irritated with Wick if he perpetrated something similar on her.

"Of course it was funny!"

The small fae snickered at the recollection.

"He was mad as a wet hen," Wick smirked. It was lucky for Taryn that he hadn't yet comtemplated playing any real pranks on her. Not that he wouldn't if the opportunity came up. He'd never do anything really mean, but he would play tricks on her just to see how much of it she could stand. It was his way of saying, "You still like me, right?"

Makes you wonder how many people did. Still like him after he did something like that, that would be.

"He could have squashed you, silly, if he was all that mad." She frowned. "You really oughta be more careful, you know."

This from the girl who has a tendency to forget exams. That was... interesting.

"Wet hens never squished anything. He wasn't so bad, really. He let me go pretty soon after he took me home with him." Wick shrugged, nonchalant, "I'm careful enough as it is - I don't need to be any more careful."

"If you say so..."

Taryn looked skeptical, but who was she to argue and try to play big sister/mother with the little faery? Then again, someone had to; he was likely to end up killed if he didn't look out for himself. (Though, given his track record and phenomenal luck, one might suspect him of having caught the eye of Lady Luck herself.)

"I do say so," he affirmed, nodding. He gave her an impish grin. "I don't need to worry - ... you don't either."


((wah. woefully short.))

"Mm... comes with the territory, kiddo. I worry about people." Like her siblings, and her friends, and such. She would probably worry about her boyfriend, if she had one.

"Call it a sign of affection."

He frowned sightly, his head tilting to one side.
"Well,...okay, Call it what you want," Wick said, his grin dimming to a shyer sort of smile. "But it's, there's - there's no need to worry 'bout me. Just so you know."

Taryn shrugged. "I'll worry if I want."

She peered at him for a moment. "You been eating okay?"

And we'll refrain from pointing out the hypocracy in that question.

"Silly question. Of course I..." He began in an indignant tone, before he actually stopped to consider the question. Had he been eating okay...? ... If memory served, he thought he had been. He couldn't be completely sure, but he was mostly sure. "Yeah. I have."

She gave him a funny look.

"When you have to actually think about it, that probably means you should be poked by somebody into eating properly."

Accordingly, she poked his stomach.

"Mnn. says you," Wick said, in an oddly good-natured sulking tone. He stuck his tongue out at her, folding his arms over himself to keep from being poked again. "Maybe I just think about it because it's not all that important. If I was forgetting all the time, then maybe there'd be a problem. But if I remember some of the time, then it's no big deal. Not like I'm starving to death 'r anything."

"Heh. That reminds me of the excuses certain people I know use." Like herself, but her whole case will fall apart if she mentions that. "'s not good for you to only remember some of the time, you know."

She has a sudden urge to tote him back to her dorm and feed him something. But there's no food there, so the urge is pointless and will remain unrealized.