Why, out of all places, why would someone put a music workshop in the middle of a mall? It wasn't even practical! Sure, people could go there and buy instruments on a whim if they wanted to, it was right where people would see it and think "oh, I need to spend money, why not spend it on an instrument I'll never play?" but it was still not practical! After all, people like Joellie had to go there and leave their precious instruments in the hands of people who would transport them to gods know where for work!

Joellie, the naga afraid of her own kind, sat on a bench with her cello and her apple juice while she contemplated handing her baby over to the store. Besides, she could always hop down to Chicago on a plane and get it worked on, why leave it here?

Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, the red curls unusually frizzy. She wore a plane white collared shirt, the sleeves rolled up and her jeans were aimed at comfort. They were ripped at the bottoms where they'd scuffed the floor and both knees were torn from heavy wear.

She was also glaring at the instrument store. She felt for sure that she'd be ripped off.

"Hi!"

It should be noted that this is the sort of greeting you expect to hear from a dear friend who hasn't seen you in months or weeks or maybe just days, depending on the sort of friend and on the strength of the relationship.

It is not the sort of greeting one gets from a total stranger.

Except from this particular stranger, who is firmly convinced that everyone in the world is her friend, even though they might not know it yet.

"How are you?"

She has cobalt blue hair and very little clothing. Not little enough that she could get in trouble for indecent exposure, but pretty damn close.

The sound that came out of Joellie could only be described as one of complete surprise. Not a happy surprise, of course, but the kind of surprise from someone who expects to be attacked at any moment. Along with the yelp came a small fountain of sticky, apple smelling liquid that landed down Joellie's front.

The expression on her face was definately not one of a friend. Unless, of course, friends regularly gave each other glares of disdain.

"Fine."

Her teeth weren't quite clenched, but they were close.

Oops. She seems to have made a mistake. She was just being friendly, though...

"Sorry. Did I startle you? I didn't mean to. I'm Cassie."

She actually said that without any pauses for breath; silly little techneid.

"Should I go find some napkins or something?"

There was something disarmingly innocent about Cassie.. Then again, the disarmingly innocent can also be strangly annoying. At least in Joellie's mind. Sometimes.

In any case, Cassie's stress-free personality got to the girl and she felt slightly bad for being harsh with her.

She shook her head with a "no, it's fine" reply and started to undo the buckles on the side of her cello case. There was a cloth in there that she could use to clean her self off with, so it was probably no big deal.

She swung the case open and carefully took the rag from its spot inside the lid. Her cello was carefully strapped in and Joellie did her best to keep it from being jostled in the walk way. In fact, she did her best to keep anyone from coming within two feet of it. Anyone.

Oou, pretty shiny instrument with sparkly strings.

Yes, Cassie does think in terms that simple.

She leaned over--when did she sit down next to Joellie, anyway?--and reached down to stroke the strings of the cello. She isn't going to hurt it, she just wants to touch it.

It's bee-you-tiful.

Touch = Bad.

No one touches her cello except for highly trained technicians and Joellie herself. And maybe her lesson teacher. And probably Alice, if he asked. Other than that, no one touches her baby.

"Hey hey hey hey hey! No touching!" Joellie's hand went out to grab Cassie's wrist, but she was just a smidgeon too late. The technodryad's fingers had already reached the expensive strings and had already gotten body oil where it would interfere with the rosin on her bow. Yes, Joellie was extremely picky about things like that.

I'm not sure that Cassie has body oil, actually. Seeing as how she's remarkably like her Palm Pilot in other ways... (Like when she catches on fire, the flames are blue. That wasn't something she enjoyed discovering, though...)

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

Her lips quivered.

"Really, awfully sorry."

Joellie never had any siblings and therefore had no experience with people crying--really crying--around her. Her initial reaction to Cassie's wet eyes and wobbly chin is best shown with two characters--?!

"What? No no no! Don't cry! I just don't like anyone touching it, ok? I'm sorry!" Joellie's eyes briefly flickered over the person she was comforting and came up with a rather odd conclusion. This woman, no she didn't act like a woman, this girl was very scantly clad which made her feel even more strange about reassuring her. Were things normally supposed to happen this way?

No, not really. But no one has ever accused Cassie of being normal. (Freak is more like it. But she's a cute freak, so it's all good.)

That was all it took to reassure her, anyway. Cassie is naturally sunny of disposition; she's easy to upset but equally easy to bring back to smiling and cheerily annoying the hell out of anyone in reach.

"You're not mad?"

As much as Joellie would have liked to say yes, she didn't. After all, how could Cassie have known? And despite her appearances, Joellie was actually beginning to think about her as a child. A big child, but a little kid, nonetheless.

"I'm not mad, just don't touch it, ok?"

She could handle the annoying childishness, but only as long as Cassie didn't touch the cello.

"Okay. It's a cello, right?"

Well, well, well. Cassie actually recognizes the instrument for what it is. How shocking; you'd think she was taken up entirely with technology and its relations.

"How long have you played?"

"Yes."

She had the cloth on her lap and was now closing up the case. She trusted that Cassie wouldn't try to touch it again, but there were more and more people filtering into the mall that couldn't be trusted with such an intstrument.

"A long time. Years."

It wasn't that she meant to be rude or short, but Joellie didn't communicate well with people who didn't have many interesting things to say. Her attention waned.

"What's your name?"

She didn't mean to leave that question until now. Honest. (She expected Joellie to answer with her own name when she introduced herself, actually. Because that's polite, right?)

Unfortunately, Joellie was only polite like that when she thought about it. Really, not that she was a bad person but she kept to herself unless she took an interest in someone. Like Alice. But that's another story. Besides, she likes Alice too much for her own good.

"Joellie," she wiped off her hand with the cloth and held it out to shake. She didn't offer an apology for not noting it sooner, either. Because really, she didn't see that she'd done something wrong.