Len stood outside the door and tapped gently. "Blade, time to wake up, gota get ready for court, okay hon?" she called out through the door in her loudest velvet rasp.

She was already up and dressed herself. She'd rather be ready too early than too late. She was wearing a long Blue skirt with broom stick pleats and a delicate pattern of vines on it. Her shirt was a white lonsleeved one with vines imbroidered on the sleeves and collar that matched the ones on the skirt very closely. She had in plain silver hoop earrings. She had braided her red hair into pigtails. Fortunately for Len she's so cute that the "Pippy Longstocking" look works for her.

From inside the room she could hear the sounds of her foster son stirring.

The boy is sleeping. He’s actually been sleeping fairly decently since moving into Ellen’s house six weeks ago. Could it be? The boy is actually fairly comfortable somewhere for a change? Yes. You could say that. There’s just something about being here that’s calming. Relaxing.

He can hear her calling him and rolls over onto his stomach. The pillow gets pulled over his head. “Just a few more minutes,” he calls out in a sleepy voice from under the pillow. His voice is muffled cause he’s pulled the pillow over his head. Yes. He’s definitely feeling more comfortable here if he’s not wanting to wake up.

Finally, after another five minutes of just trying to shut out the morning light with the pillow, he shoves the pillow off his head. Dang it. He doesn’t want to get up. He’s not really an early morning person. Sleeping till ten or so is what he likes to do the best. It was never very often that he had actually gotten to do so.

“Alright... alright...” he calls sleepily. “I’m up...” The boy rolls himself off the bed after a few more minutes and heads over to the dresser. He’d taken a shower before going to bed so wasn’t going to take another one this morning. His hair is an absolute mess though from having gone to bed with wet hair. He’s standing there in a pair of red boxers.

“I don’t know what to wear...”

"Well lets see what you have hon. She told the boy while she leaned on her cane in his doorway. "I'm sure between the two of us we can figure something out. Then I'll fix you breakfast. Do you want poptarts today or something else?" she asked.

He starts opening the drawers on the dresser and pulls out his baggy jean shorts and baggy jeans. These are the ones that hang quite low on his hips. He frowns. He wants to look at least half way decent. These just aren’t going to cut it. Neither are his shirts. All of them quite baggy and all of various shades of red. “Damn,” he mutters and turns to look towards the closet. When he’d first been brought here by Ellen, he’d stuffed the bag of clothes Greg had bought from him in the back of it. He sighs and starts to walk towards the closet.

He opens the door and leans inside. He pulls out a bag and tosses it towards the bed. It manages to land on the end of it. He looks sulky as he turns and heads towards it. He pulls out a pair of dark brown pants and spreads them out on the end of the bed. They’re baggy but not near as baggy as his jeans and jean shorts. They’re a little wrinkled from having been kept stuffed in the bag. He reaches into the bag again and pulls out a light brown button up shirt that’s got short sleeves. It’s also a bit baggy.

“I guess I could wear this...” he mutters in a ‘not too happy to be considering wearing these’ tone of voice. “Poptarts are fine,” he finally answers.

"You want me to iron it real quick like and let you get the poptarts?" she offers. Not the most exciting colors, but she must agree, it would look much more presentable in court.

“I think they’re okay. They’re not too wrinkled,” he says still frowning at the clothes. “How long do you think it’s going to take once we get there? I don’t want to wear these things any longer than I have to...” he says. “Burn ‘em is what I’d rather do with ‘em instead of wearin’ ‘em.”

" I don't know. We're not early on the court docket, and I'm not sure how long it will take. We can come back here so you can change after though. I suppose sometime we should work on your wardrobe, my dear boy. Go ahead and get dressed. I'll fix your poptarts and ovaltine." she tells him.

He sighs and seems to slump where he’s standing. “I hate these things...” he mutters as he reaches for the shirt. “Hate the bland colors. Hate where they came from. Hate who bought...” He shuts himself up at that point. He glances over at Ellen. “Thanks.”

"Don't let it eat you up, It isn't worth it hon. See you in a few." she tells him making her way down the hall with her cane. She really is walking much better, she only needs the one now.

He shrugs and starts to pull on the shirt. “I guess...” he says. He continues getting dressed and then heads out to the kitchen. His hair is still an absolute mess. It’s sticking up all over the place. He really shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair. He sits down at the table.

"What are your plans for your hair dear?" she asks him.

“Huh?” he says and reaches up to touch his head. “Oh... da... dang,” he mutters. He’s been catching himself more and more before letting the swear words slip. Every so often a few slip here and there. But not nearly as much. “Gotta comb it. I should probably stop going to bed with wet hair. I’ll do it after I eat.”

"You really should, I own four blow driers." she reminds him. They all happen to be out in her work shop though, they get much more use drying out art than they do hair.

“Or I could try showering earlier than right before bedtime,” he says. “At least an hour.” She’s brought him his poptarts and he’s eating them now. He does not talk with his mouth full. It’s rude and gross. He finishes them and stands up. Takes his plate into the kitchen and washes it. “Okay. Going to go do something with my hair.” He heads into the bathroom to do just that. It’s such a mess that he’s got to wet it down and then comb it.

He comes back out once he’s got it looking fairly decent. He’s pulled the back of it back into a pony tail. Don’t ever suggest he get his hair cut cause he won’t do it. Trim the ends, yes. Cut it, no. He likes his hair long. “Alright,” he says. “I think I’m ready...” He stands there and fidgets.

"Ah, good, because we need to get going."she says picking up her keys. "I'll get the bug started and let you lock up." she tells him making her way out the front door and down the driveway.

He nods and goes to hold the door open for her. He goes back inside and checks the backdoor just to make sure it’s locked still and then heads out the front door. He locks it behind him and heads for the car. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally gotten to the point where he’ll sit in the front seat. He buckles his seatbelt.

She drives to the court house. They don't talk much, but I imagine they're both nervous to learn the judges determintation. Though it looks good, the small chance that they might be denied, still looms in the silence of the car drive.

Nervous? I don’t think that’s the best way to describe the boy at the moment. Scared shitless really. He doesn’t even want to be going. As they pull up to the court house, the boy suddenly feels sick to his stomach. “Ellen...” he says. “I think I need to be sick.....” His face is kinda greenish at the moment.

She's been here before dealing with ex- husband stuff, enough that she knows right where the bathroom is. She nods and steers the boy there as quickly as possible. "Poor thing, maybe I should have just fixed you some tea." she feels bad at having fed him now. They still have twenty minutes until they appear before the judge.

The boy rushes into the bathroom and proceeds to puke his little guts out. His retching could probably be heard from outside the bathroom door. Then the toilet flushing. And then water running. When he comes out of the bathroom, his face is damp from him having splashed water on it. Some of his hair managed to get damp from the water, too. His face still looks to be on the greenish side. He goes over to stand next to her.

She reaches into one of the many deep pockets the skirt has and gives him a stick of gum. "Feel any better? We only have a few minutes left. I'm sure it wil be fine." she tells him. Then she sends a trickle of possitive energy to him.

He takes the gum and starts to chew on it. A slight shake of his head was given as she asked him if he felt any better. He steps sideways a little more. Towards her. As he watches the seemingly sudden rush of people coming and going from the court room in front of them. Small boyish hand reaches out and takes hers. Shhh... Don’t tell no one.

She walks hand in hand with her ward into the courtroom. they sit down on one of the benches and wait until they're case is called. Amazingly it only takes a few minutes. The judge calls them up and in terse, drawn out, serious sounding words, he appoints Len Blade's legal guardain. Though I should poiint out he uses Blade"s real name. Len's face completely lightws up as she looks down at Blade.

“Don’t let ‘em take me away...” he whispered to her as they entered the court room. His face is all pale as he sits down next to her. He’s still clinging to her hand. The boy can’t help but feel a bit intimidated as the judge speaks to them from his seat above them. He’s not let go of her hand at all. Blade makes himself not cringe every time the judge uses his real name. He’s very nearly holding his breath entirely as he listens. A slight nod of the head is given every so often. A soft, almost inaudible gasp escapes from him as the judge appoints Ellen his legal guardian. He turns to her and, without even giving it second thought, throws his small arms around her. And then... he cries...

She gently guides the crying boy from the courtroom. Still smiling. They make it all the way out to the car before he stops to look up at her. She's still grinning. "We should go out to celebrate. You can call Sin to join us it you want." she tells him.

He’s trying to get himself to stop crying as he’s guided out of the court house and to the car. He’s nearly gotten himself to stop crying finally as he nods his head. “I’d like that,” he says softly in between sniffles.

"Let's go by the house so you can change and call him. Then you can pick where you'd like to go. Sound like a plan?" she asks with one hand gently on his shoulder and the other on her cane.

He nods and goes around the car to hold her door open for her. He’d forgotten all about what he was wearing. After she’s in, he closes the door and goes to get in on the other side. He buckles his seatbelt as soon as he closes the door.

On the way back to the house she turns the radio on loudly. She would sing along, but her voice won't really let her. Does Blade ever wonder what she used to sound like?

Of course he does. But he’s not asked her. Don’t know if he will either. At least, not yet anyway. He’s staring out the car window as they head home. Home. Not ‘Ellen’s house’. Home.

She pulls into the drive way and shuts the car off. The radio falls silent. She is pleased that he walks around to open her door. He is so thoughtful.

Blade really isn’t usually this thoughtful for anyone but himself. Maybe she really is good for the lost and confused teenage boy. She’s shown him a kindness that no one else has. Except his own mother. But look at what he put his mother through even through her love for her only son.

He offers to unlock the door to the house and nearly bounds up to the house after she hands him the keys. He stands there, holding the door open for her.

She thanks him as she gets to the door and goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, while he goes to change. She leans out into the hallway, "It might be good if you brush your teeth." she tells him, in spite of heving given him the stick of gum earlier.

She sits at the small table with her water, and waits for the boy.

“Yes, ma’am,” he calls back as he’s stripping his clothes off. In mere seconds he’s standing in the middle of his room in nothing but red boxers and a huge ass smile. He grabs a pair of his baggy jean shorts. His black ones. They just barely sit on his hips. Turning to the closet, he flips through the few shirts he has and decides on his red fishnet shirt. He pulls it over his head and heads back over to the dresser. He reaches into the top drawer and pulls out his red ‘rag’ (bandana). Then heads into the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and ties his red ‘rag’ on his head. He stands there for a few moments just looking at himself in the mirror. He’s still grinning. His eyes are still puffy from having been crying. At least they were tears of joy though. He really had been worried that the courts were going to say no or something like that. He turns off the bathroom light and strides out to the kitchen.

Len listens to him move through the house. She isn't really crazy abouthow he dresses herself, but she isn't about to force the issue, it's not worth drawing a line over yet. If he starts wearing make up she'll say something........

Blade? Wear make-up? Ewww... That’s what his exact reaction would be. He’s not into that whole guys wearing make-up thing. He’s not a goth wanna be. “Can I call Sin?” he asks anxiously.

"Yes, go ahead." she tells him. At least the kid pulls his hair back most of the time, long hair on guys sort drives her nuts in a bad way. Sadly it's the real reason Gatt got his job, the other guys that applied all looked like long haired hippies, even if they did know art.

Yes. Most of the time he pulls it back. Not always though. He likes his hair long. But not too long. He likes it right where it is. He does keep it nice and tidy looking though.

He dashes towards the phone and dials Sin’s number.

Ring.... ring....

Sinister answerswith blaring music in the backgound and the sound of clickety, clickety, as he types. "Hello." He says as he turns his music down.

“Hey!” comes quite a happy voice. “Ellen’s taking me out to celebrate and said I could invite you! You wanna come?” Silly Blade. You forgot to say what you’re celebrating.