Alucard was wandering the city, free of his baggage. The boy had finally found a place to store his duffle and his book bag, a place that he wouldn’t have to worry over it, a place that had cost him fifteen bucks for a week. His bags were securely locked away in a local gym’s lockers in the men’s shower room. When his week was up, hopefully he would have found somewhere to go and he could retrieve his bags, smelling like sweat and old dirty socks, he’s sure.

The young man was dressed shabbily, not because he was homeless (although currently that was his status) but because his family had really been unable to afford much better. He wore a pair of old, faded blue jeans that had a thin sort of look, a faded old tee-shirt, a pair of worn out skater shoes, and a Chappell style hat. The hat didn’t match his blue shirt or his blue jeans with its old, worn navy green color, the short bill pulled low to hide his amber and tawny colored eyes, sliver-blond hair poking out from beneath it’s rim. In these clothes he’s distinctly male but his figure is obviously slender enough to, when dressed a certain way, be mistaken for female.

He was making his way up Elm Street, finally having located what he figured was the heart of the city, his hands in his pockets. Suddenly he stopped, a momentary look of shock crossing his face, so brief that it might not have been there at all. He back-tracked three steps and turned to face a shop window. Through the glass a weather man silently predicted the weather from the face of no less then seven televisions. On the glass was his reflection and half a dozen posters, one of these containing the face of a young man that could have been his little brother. He reached out and peeled the flier off of the window and gazed more closely at it.



Since that picture had been taken he’d grown three inches, though the fliers declaration that he was 5’5 was only an inch off. Since that picture he’d lost weight, slimmed out, and since that picture, things had changed. His eyes, for one thing, his species for another. Also, now he had scars both on his face and across his neck, as if some wild animal had attacked him. Since running away, he’d changed a little more. He was paler, for one, his skin the color of someone often sick, and he had sliced all of that beautiful long blond hair off. Now it hung only long enough to be called “as long as a bowl cut but not in the fashion of one).

Scowling, Alucard was completely focused on the flier, standing in the middle of the busy sidewalk. The scowl looked misplaced on his face. It seemed his "missing" fliers had caught up to him.

Madigan didn't have enough money for the dress. It was unbelievable, really, how expensive the dress was! And, of course, it fit her perfectly. Her sigh was slightly dramatic as she placed the dress back on its rack. Well, it wasn't the end of the world. She could spend her money for something more useful, like food from the bakery place she saw on the previous block.

She exited the shop with the tinkling of a bell and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Summer had treated her well so far, highlighting her already blonde hair and giving her skin a cheery tan (and a touch of burn on her shoulders). She wore bermuda shorts checkered in navy and khaki, and a navy tunic-top thing (she wasn't sure what it was called, but it was sort of long and floaty, and she liked it). Her shoes were brown flats, ballet-slipper style, and added very little to her unimpressive height. She moved lightheartedly down the street, dodging in and out of the slower-moving crowd.

Somewhere in the back of her mind was the nagging sense that her sister was going to murder her when Madigan returned to the apartment later, but she tried to ignore it. Today was her eighteenth birthday, and she had no desire to spend it with her surly older sister.

Madigan trouped across a busy avenue with a dozen other people. Up ahead was the bakery, full of tasty things for her to treat herself with. As she made her way down the block, she passed a store that was alive with television sets, all showing the same thing: the weather, of course. She slowed down anyway, though, eyes glued to the screens. Aparently there were some storms coming, if the radar image of red and yellow blobs meant anything.

Suddenly, there wasn't a TV in front of her. There was a sign. She took another step, and there was yet another sign. She mumbled something that possibly could have been "Great," and looked along the rest of the store front.

It was like that old song... Signs, signs, everywhere signs/ blocking up the scenery, breaking my mind/ 'Do this,' 'Don't do that'--can't you read the signs? "All I want to see is the weather!" she muttered, slightly more audibly than before. A sudden breeze swept a poster off the window right in front of her, sending it spinning away. She smiled, thinking about her luck, but then frowned when she saw the station had gone to commercial.

Madigan wasn't used to big city life, and she didn't know how common or uncommon it was for people to actually stop and watch the window TVs. However, she noticed that she wasn't alone--there was a guy staring, too, watching the commercial very intently. Madigan glanced back at the TV and saw a toothpaste ad running. She looked back at the guy--really, he was more of a boy, he couldn't be much older than her--and realized he must be trying to see around the poster, to see the television. Of course.

"You can see the screens easy from down here," she called out, only a little tentatively. "They went to commercial, though, so unless you're interested in toothpaste there's not much to see," she added with a smile, turning back to the TV in front of her anyway. Her attention span was a little... short... and she'd already forgotten about the bakery.

Alucard…easier and easier since he’s now staring at the face on the paper. It was like the boy in the picture and himself were two different people and always had been…looked up from the paper in his hands, then around, trying to find the voice that had spoken so near and had possibly been speaking directly to him. He found her.

“Huh?” His eyebrows raised curiously for a moment, then he looked from her to the window, then from the window to the televisions beyond that, now showing a car commercial, and then his gray eyes shifted down to the paper in his hands. “Oh. Oh yes,” he agreed. He began to fold the paper, first in half, then in half once more, leaving the tape stuck to it’s back, and he put it into his pocket as he moved towards where she stood.

“The fliers, they’re starting to get a bit ridiculous, dontcha thing? I mean, they’re advertising teles right? But they hide them behind a wall of paper.” He managed a smile. It was half hearted and proved that the was down on his luck but it was kind and it was friendly.



OOC: terribly sorry that it's so short.

((OOC: Naw, that's okay... I sort of rambled with my opener.))
IC:

"I know, right?" she responded, turning back in time to catch his smile. "I mean, noboby cares about what the signs say anyway. Who even reads 'em?" She was rather relieved on the inside that he turned out to be, at first impression, a normal person. There was always the risk of meeting psychos or pervs when you randomly talked to strangers in the street, but Madigan found that sort of exciting.
She was a real dare devil, all right.

"If you missed it, there's a pretty big storm headed this way," she added conversationally, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to discuss the weather with a stranger. It was very cliche, but Madigan didn't mind in the least.

"I suppose that means I won't be headed to the park later," she said after a brief pause, although she wasn't sure exactly why he would care about her plans. "I guess I'll have to head home." This last bit filled her with a sense of impending doom: 'home' meant Maddy's apartment... and Maddy's wrath. She also felt a little panicked when she realized that she wasn't completely sure where the apartment was... but she'd deal with that later.

Who even reads em? Nobody cares about what they say… Alucard fingered the corner of the flier in his pocket. He certainly hoped she was right. “Seriously,” he agreed, following the way she spoke and falling into it easily. He is, after all, a teenager.

Alucard would be one of the first people to tell her, if he stopped to think about it, that he was probably more dangerous then anyone on this street. He would tell her to go away, please run away quickly. He would tell her, that is, if he were not so desperate for the conversation with someone his age, if he were not so lonely.

Alucard groaned, a long, low sound that sounded too deep to have come from any normal boys throat. “Great,” he didn’t sound enthusiastic. That was the last thing he needed, to be sleeping on the bench while it poured down rain. Maybe he could find a bus stop, or sleep in the underground station.

”What’s at the park?” he asked her. He’d yet to find the park.

It occured to her that this guy--boy? He didn't look old enough to be a 'guy'--probably didn't really care about the park, or anything else she had to say. He was just trying to be polite. That was the case with most people she talked to, because Madigan like to talk. A lot. Her sister called her a prattlesnake, because sometimes she just wouldn't shut up.

"Hm... I'm not sure, exactly," she responded truthfully. "I've never actually been there. I'm new to town--visiting family, you know?--and I thought I'd explore the city a bit. The rain sort of puts a damper on my plans, though." She was completely serious as she said this last bit, but truthfully she'd used the 'rain puts a damper on my plans' line before, and it was only funny to her now if the other person thought so.

"Maybe if I hurry, though, I can get there before the storm," she added, glancing up at the sky. The thought of the bakery suddenly popped back in her head, and she was instantly plagued with indecision. Bakery? Or park? Bakery? Or park? Bakery...?

Madigan was normally very indecisive, so this back-and-forth mind game she was playing was old news. Making up her own mind was not something that came easy to her, and usually she couldn't even pick out a new pair of jeans without somebody else's input. Once, though, she'd been waffling between pairs of shoes, and one pair just sort of jumped out the box. Nobody else had seen, but it had freaked her out a little bit. She took it as a divine sign from a shoe god and purchased the shoes. She was currently wearing them, as a matter of fact.

It didn’t occur to him that she was just being polite. This is what you do in high school right? It’s how you make friends…you just sort of talk to the person that has the same class, and then later you start sitting at the same table at lunch and eventually you start studying together, then, because of the peaceful quiet and the closeness that a dim library invokes, you start to share your secrets.

Now, Alucard has thrown himself into the real world. He’s never been in the real world before, at least not so alone. He’s never had to fend for himself or make friends outside of school. How does one go about making friends when you don’t go to school? When you don’t live anywhere to invite them too? The same way, he supposed, that you made them at school. You talk.

She’s the one that first spoke to him, therefore he assumes she’s looking for a friend. Since she is, and so is he, he responded, although Alucard would have responded anyways, it would have been rude not to. He doesn’t mind her…’prattling?’ to him. He’s lonely and he’s starting to feel its effects. It shows around the haunted edges of those silvery eyes.

He smiled, albeit weakly but humorously, at her use of the phrase ‘damper’. “I’m new too,” he told her. There, now they have something in common. “Is it alright if I come too?” he asked, then sealed his lips together, pressing them closed. He’d never invited himself anywhere, he shouldn’t have.

"Oh... um..." she hesitated. It wasn't because he seemed like a creep or anything, but going to the park with a stranger just didn't seem like a great idea. You know--'stranger danger' and all that. Then she decided that if worse came to worse she could phone her deranged sister to come and pick her up. Yeah. That would work.

"It's just that I'm not sure where it is," she admited, covering her indecision about allowing him to come with a legitimate excuse. "But," she added, "you're more than welcome to help me find it! I haven't had anybody to talk to in ages, except my sister, and she's not really a conversationalist. I'm Madigan, by the way." She stuck out her hand, then regretted it. What teenager shakes hands with another teenager when they first meet? Well, she was starting at the university in the fall, and maybe college-types shook hands. This would be good practice. Or exceedingly awkward.

He smiled. This smile made the scars on his cheek crinkle slightly, drawing attention to the fact that they were there. As if you could ignore the scars on his face and the mound of scaring at his neck in the first place.

“We can ask someone,” he offered, a half shrug of his shoulders could have meant anything and everything. She offered her hand, he looked down at it for a moment, then rubbed his palm on his pant leg, trying to clear away most of whatever grim might have collected there, then reached and took her hand. His hands were soft with youth but the back was covered in more long lines of scars. It looked like a cat with fat claws had used him has a scratch post. Or judging by the mound at his neck a very big, predator type cat. Or a dog.

“Alucard.” He didn’t hesitate to use this name for the second time in his entire life. He was good at this lie already, having used it only once before in the last two weeks of his brand new, two week old life. Alucard was easier to be then Alexander. No one knew Alucard. Alucard could be whoever he wanted him to be.

As he rubbed his hand on his pant leg, Madigan realized that he wasn't exactly... normal looking. Maybe he was sick? Funny, though, he wasn't acting sick. Maybe, then, it was the lights from the TV screens shining through the window that were bleaching his skin and hair, making him look ill.

She also noticed the scars, but decided against comment. The last thing she wanted was an awkward conversation about an accident or something worse. "Sure," she agreed, in reference to him suggesting they ask direction. She looked around, as if expecting a random tour guide to pop up and offer directions to the nearest park. No such luck.

Then, Madigan had a brilliant idea: The bakery! Of course! What a great plan! She mentally congratulated herself on her amazing problem-solving abilities. "There's a bakery about half a block that way," she pointed. "Maybe we could stop in there, grab a bite, and somebody could offer us directions?" It was like killing two birds with one stone. Kind of.

Poor birds. Alucard’s smile still hadn’t reached it’s potential, obviously, but he was smiling. “Ok,” he agreed. “Lead the way,” he offered with a gesture the showed training and grooming and ‘ladies first’ exercises. However, he mainly offered to follow her instead of joining her, walking beside her as her equal, because he did not know the way to the bakery, let alone the park that neither of them could have found on their own.

He fell in behind her, wondering at the best way to tell her that he was not hungry without making her feel bad or rejected. He was hungry, terribly hungry, but he lacked the money needed to buy food. It was frustrating trying to get on your feet in a new life. You had to have a home but you had to be eighteen and have a job to get a home. You had to be clean to get a job but you needed a home with a washing machine and a shower to get clean to get that job. He’d applied to two places already but had been, while not covered in mud, a little dirty when he’d entered each of those applications. Considering the well groomed young man in the button up shirt and khaki pants standing beside his faded cargo pants and thin tee shirt, Alucard wasn’t surprised if he didn’t get the jobs.

Besides, he didn’t have any identification. Everything said Alex on it. He really hadn’t thought this whole running away business through.

Maybe if he begged that he had amnesia someone would help him get a new identity.

Madigan set off, a little put-out that Alucard was sort of behind her, but not surprised. Maybe he just didn't know where the bakery was. And perhaps he was regretting coming? What if she turned around and he had slipped away, leaving her feel stupid and alone? But no. That's something her sister would do. Normal, decent human beings would make some sort of lame excuse, at the very least.

"It's just up ahead," she said, turning her head back to him, gesturing toward the storefront at the same time. Her pointing arm whacked into a fast-paced man in a business suit. "Sorry!" she gasped apologetically, but he was already gone. "City people," she muttered. Everybody seemed like they were in a hurry, and nobody really cared about anybody else. Oh, well. At least Mr. Business Suit didn't make a scene about it.

She paused outside the bakery, letting the wonderful smell of pastries wash over her as somebody opened the door as they left. Well, truthfully, it was more like getting hit in the face with a pastry-scented brick wall, because the smell was sort of strong. But not necessarily unpleasant, unless perhaps you happened to be sick.

She moved toward the door, glancing back at her new companion. "Nothing like sugar, calories, and carbs, right?" she said with a merry smile, and stepped inside.