The soft strumming of a guitar or two and the mesmerizing, scratching voice of one Marylyn Manson’ speed of pain could be heard loud and clear by other people from the ear phone that hung limply at Jesse’s shoulder. The other earphone was plugged tightly into his ear, the volume up and effectively ruining his hearing on the left side.

The coffee shop hadn't been quite so crowded this morning and Jesse had spent most of his time trying to make himself productive. Actually, that’s a lie. He had been sitting on his ass behind the counter reading a book for the fifth time when his boss had come in and found him just a little too comfortable and put him to work stocking. The evening had been even less busy then the morning so he'd mopped the floor and sat around more. His boss found him just a little too comfortable again but couldn't find anything to give him to do so he'd sent him home.

Jesse is a tall, lanky figure that looks like he sulks too much and eats too little. His face is as thin as his body and just as pale. His eyes are blue and stand out against the paleness of his skin and darkness of his hair. His hair hangs at his chin, untied at the moment though usually pulled back while he works. It’s black and streaked naturally with premature white hair, thick and healthy compare to his body’s state. His fingers are unusually spidery and his nails cut back short. His fingers, in fact, the whole of both hands are scared with lines. He’s wearing black pants that look just a trifle faded, scuffed boots with broken laces, and the coffee shops white shirt and green apron. The string to the apron wraps around his waist twice, his name tag is slightly crooked on the apron chest and he’s written his name in backwards so that it reads ‘NIKEAL ESSEJ.’ Over that he was wearing a long sleeved dark blue worn out shirt beneath the white tee shirt. His only protection from the cold.

His thin lips are mouthing the words to the song as he moves at a slow, slouching pace through the dark park. It wasn't that it was very late, only ten after nine but the sun was setting earlier and earlier now that the winter was here. He'd discovered a week ago that the shortest path between the shop and the apartment that Vivienne was letting him stay in was through the park.

In such a park was a young lady, most likely she attended the nearby university. In fact, the hooded sweatshirt she wore had the faded letters of the school's rowing team printed across the front.

There was no music player attatched to her person. Katrina prefered to run in silence, it allowed her to easier concetrate on nothing in particular. While she ran, no dashing professors sat on her brain, no family problems, no overprotective fathers and definitely no woes over not having a boyfriend. One might say that running was her way of running away from everything.

Blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail that reached to the bottom of her shoulder blades. She had on black, fleece gloves with the fingers cut off and a red scarf. The comfortable pair of sweatpants she wore had "tiger" printed across the butt and her shoes were almost blindingly white. She was very careful with said shoes and cleaned them every night.

There was a person ahead of her on the trail that ran through the park. He was still a considerable distance away, but Katrina could still pick out the beats and a sprinkle of words. How could people stand it? It hurt her even to think about such loud music. Needless to say, she wasn't much of a party girl.

Someone might say Jesse isn't a party person either. But that would be an understatment. And while her way of running from her problems was running, his way of avoiding his problems was to cut himself and not eat. But then his way of avoiding his problems became part of his problem and his music became his escape. The louder it was, the harder to think.

He didn't hear her footsteps over the scratching voice and the wailing guitar. Perhapes such loud music was a self endangerment, one can't hear someone sneaking up behind them. It's like asking to be mugged, but then, he was already asking for death, why not go out with a bang. He'd been mugged once this month already, they'd taken five bucks, his dirty boots, and broken his CD player. Wow, he hoped they felt accomplished.

As the song changed tracks, the silence in the moment between allowed him to breifly hear the foot falls of someone comming up on him quickly and he peered over his shoulder, frowned, stepped sideways off the path, his boot sunk in the snow and found ice and before he could think he was falling backwards into a cold, wet pile and releasing a quiet stream of profanity.

Manson continued to sing in his ear.

"Oh my God, are you OK?" Katrina quickened her pace and reached him in less than a second.

"You didn't break anything, did you?" She danced from foot to foot in the cold and her face was etched in a cute expression of concern. She hadn't yet thought of offering to help him up, only stand there until she found out if he was injured.

Glare.

It's your fault I feel.

Not really. It was no ones fault really, just ice under the snow, but he'd moved over for her to run by and if he can find someone to blame a problem on, why bother blaming nature for doing what it's suposed to do? God he hated winter time. Maybe he should blame the winter time, it wasn't really her fault after all.

His pale face looked paler because his nose was reddened by the cold. He pulled his hands out of the snow and shook them off, lightening his facial expressions towards her just a little.

"Yeah, fine." His ass hurt. His voice was low and raspy from too little use.

"Um..sorry?" Well he was the one who didn't look where he was going. Whether or not she thought that that was a really weird look he just gave, she stuck out her hand in the natural gesture to help him to his feet.

Jesse would argue that you couldn't see ice under the snow. But either way he shouldn't be blaming her. And Mother nature does suck.

He looked at her hand for a few moments before actually taking it. His hand was far bigger then her's, thinner too, with long spidery fingers and many many scars all over it. When he pulled himself up, he should have weighed far more but was very light.

"Thanks. My fault." Not really, but it's an expected ansower in society right? He plucked the other head phone out of his ear and reached back into his back pocket and the music stopped abruptly.

Before she let go of the hand for good, Katrina peered into the sweet face. "You're sure? No twisted ankles or anything?"

Don't peer at me like that. What was that for? Now Jesse's not used to that so don't mind him. He's used to being glanced at but no more, turned away from almost imediatly because he was skeiltal and pale, despite being good looking.

"None." He let her hand go.

I doubt she cared much what he looked like.

"Oh good," she joked, "I wouldn't want you to sue me or anything."

Smile, laugh. Let's have fun, shall we?

He'd almost said 'why would I sue you, I was the one that tripped,' but remembered he'd given her an accusing glare and stopped himself. Instead he shrugged.

"Wouldn't have sued you. It's stupid." Sueing that is.

Frown. Let's not and say we did.

Where's the fun in that? Exactly the point! Thhere is none! (Which is really quite a shame)

"Well," she rubbed her hands together for warmth, "Humanity is known for stupider things."

She looked around. Winter was such a nice season.

No it wasn't.

Ok, sometimes it was, but he won't agree outloud.

"Like running when there's loads of ice and other people on the path." Disgruntled much?

He seemed to think twice about that and tried to make the end of the sentance trail off on a (what he might call) more upbeat note. Then he offered a half, almost there but not quite, smile. See, I'm joking. Not really, but we can say I am.

Aah, and that's why she wasn't sure whether he was being rude or..what. So she half laughed in an "Ok...." kind of way and looked around.

"Um, well if you're good I'll just...get going then?"

Why'd she bother asking? It's her decision.