It isn't really the nicest day to be waiting outside, but that's what Arty is doing. Vi asked him to wait for her at the library after school - she hinted it might be for something fun, but he's beginning to suspect it was just so that she could be sure of his whereabouts. Not wanting to wait inside and be stared at by passing students wondering what he's doing here, he's sitting off to one side on the steps to avoid being tripped over.

The weather is cold enough to be a problem to anyone improperly dressed, but Arty is prepared. He's wearing a heavy too-big coat, gloves, a fluffy, awkwardly-shaped scarf, and a hat that doesn't match anything else that he's wearing, in that it's several odd and rather girly shades of blue-green.
The hat is made necessary by the fact that his hair has been cut too short to cover his ears anymore. Violet had said she was only going to neaten up the ends. (Apparently 'neaten up', according to Violet, means 'take off a couple of extra inches.')

School is back in session, and with it comes students - those pesky creatures. Sam is among them, frowning at thin air and completely not looking for creatures inconsiderately sitting on the library steps in her way.

It's something you want to see in slow motion, the way she runs into him, falls, tumbles.

Well.

Ow.

Tentatively, she tests the use of her limbs.

Well, nothing broken. Apparently. Thank god for that.

Arty makes an interesting kind of squeaking sound when she runs into him, sort of like a rubber duck being trodden on. He quickly recovers from making the interesting sound (and, yes, being walked into as well), coming back with an annoyed, "Hey! Watch it!"
He rights himself and sits there, rubbing his elbow and glaring at her.
He's a grumpy creature, this one.

As she is currently lying face-down on the ground, she decides to forgo taking offense in lue of swearing rather more vigorously than most people would think her capable of.

That was unpleasant to a very great degree. Ow.

Arty stares at her, just the teeniest bit shocked.
He's heard people swear before, and given the chance, he has quite the colorful vocabulary himself. But he just doesn't expect it coming from her. At first glance, she appears to be a nice, normal girl. Nice, normal girls restrain themselves a little.

"You should have been watching where you were going," he says sulkily, after he gets over the shock.

She's been having a bad week.

"Yeah. I should have," she agreed, finding it hard to breath, and pushing herself into a seated position against the bottom step.

Wow.
She just agreed that it was her fault? That kind of takes the point out of being angry with her for tripping over him.

Arty stares at her some more.... Well, actually, he just watches in a somewhat bewildered manner, his head tipped to one side.

"...Are you okay?"

She breathes deeply, tentatively.

"Yeah, I think so. Aside from some bruises."

On that note, ow, gravel embedded in her chin, that's going to sting for a while. She rubs at it fitfully.

"Oh. Okay."

Arty still looks a tad puzzled, but not so surprised. Out of habit, he makes a motion to brush his hair out of his eyes... but there's no hair in his eyes to brush away, so he has to let his hand fall again.

"You're kind of clumsy," he observes, completely without malice. "For an elf, I mean."

"Elves aren't clumsy?"

Lucky elves.

She'll notice that he knows she's an elf in a minute, really she will. Most of her friends do, is the thing.

"No, 'course they aren't. It's like... part of being an elf or something. Being able to be lightfooted and stuff."

He shrugs a shoulder, obviously entirely at home with the subject of nonhumans.
And why shouldn't he be?

"Oh. Guess I missed out on that one. Maybe 's a cultural thing."

How should she know?

And maybe, just maybe, she's gotten blase about this, because she isn't even going to bother asking why he knows she's an elf. He obviously does, and the answers tend to range from 'obviously' to 'were you trying to hide it?'

Bayfield truly was a weird city.

"I dunno." Another shrug. "I don't think so, though. If elves are anything the same as fae - and they are - it's a natural kinda thing. I mean, you wouldn't believe how,...how clumsy humans are compared to them."
Now, Sam is treated to a wry grimace.
"And I would know."

"Why's that?" She asks, because until she can breath, she's just going to sit here and talk for a minute.

Arty frowns and fidgets with the end of his scarf.

"I just would, that's all," he replies evasively. "Anyways. I've never seen an elf trip over anything before."

"Well, now you have."

Happy, kiddo?

"Yeah. Guess so."

...And maybe he's smiling a little.
Seeing an elf being clumsy - that makes him feel a little better about being human. He hasn't tripped over anyone (yet).

"What's your name?"

She'd be angrier and more suspicious if he were older.

She likes kids.

"Arty," he replies, after a moment's pause.
No middle names or last names to offer. Just Arty.

And because he hasn't quite gotten over the idea that names are more than just useful things to call people, he asks, "What's yours?" to make it a fair trade.

"Sam. You Keye's friend?"

Most people are, but more specifically it was how she met Keye, so. It stuck in the memory.

Arty's eyes light up.
"Uh-huh," he says brightly, once more tilting his head to one side in order to give her a proper curious look. "How d'you know him?"
Pause, and he looks slightly less cheerful.
"Did he tell you about me?"
Did he tell you anything bad? ...Or good, for that matter?

"You're... a good kid, complicated stuff going on with you, he had to look after you for a friend 'cause... they were going out of town...? Something like that."

She has a good memory for kid-related stuff.

Arty nods along.

"Yeah. I had to stay with him 'cause the people I usually stay with had to go away for a couple of days." He pouts. This still bothers him. "They didn't think they could leave me alone."

"You're a kid. They probably couldn't."

It seems simple enough to her.

"I am not."
Mrrr!
"And they could too have let me. I wouldn't've wrecked anything or whatever."

"Wouldn't you have?"

She's curious.

"Of course I wouldn't."

He doesn't wreck things that belong to people he likes!

...Well, not often, anyway. And not on purpose.

"How careful would you have been?"

So help her, she enjoys talking to children.

"Very," Arty says firmly, crossing his arms and frowning at her. "So they didn't have to get a babysitter. That was dumb."
Huff.
"I mean, I wouldn't've ruined anything," he reiterates plaintively. "They could've left me alone."

"And you were perfectly behaved with a babysitter," she observes.

Keye did mention that things were interesting, afterwards.

The boy gives her a sharp, faintly suspicious look.

"Sure I was," he grumbles. "And even if I wasn't,, I'd've acted different if I was let alone."

She rolls her eyes, and doesn't contradict him.

"If you say so."