Melanie pondered more on her dilemma as she drove. Fishing blindly in the passenger seat she found her sunglasses and slid them on to her face. How in the fuck she'd been convinced to move to Las Ballenas from Seattle was a mystery. She cursed UCLB for having such an amazing Organic Chemistry scholarship program. Funded by some of the greatest chemical research and development groups on the country.
Oh, and for being particularly meta-human friendly. A zero tolerance discrimination policy on that sort of thing made the decision easier.
Rounding a corner, she narrowed her eyes to focus in on someone walking down the sidewalk. There was something familiar about them. Whether it was they way they walked, or they way they were noticeably tiny, she couldn't quite decide. She quickly filed through her mental Rolodex and she slowed her vehicle to a stalking sort of pace.
Then it hit her. She definitely knew this person.
"Oye," she called out the window she was rolling down, as she pulled to a step next to the side walk. "Don't I know you?" she prompts, leaning closer to her passenger side window to be heard. "OH! You totally did some work for Crimson Siren, right?" she didn't wait for an answer, not usually so benevolent, but she still needed that friend.
Not this one in particular, but she had to slow-roll this sudden accumulation of acquaintances. "If you're headed to the college, I could give you a ride." They way she waggled her brows to emphasize the deal, could not be seen behind her gigantic sunglasses.
Being nice was hard.
Oh, and for being particularly meta-human friendly. A zero tolerance discrimination policy on that sort of thing made the decision easier.
Rounding a corner, she narrowed her eyes to focus in on someone walking down the sidewalk. There was something familiar about them. Whether it was they way they walked, or they way they were noticeably tiny, she couldn't quite decide. She quickly filed through her mental Rolodex and she slowed her vehicle to a stalking sort of pace.
Then it hit her. She definitely knew this person.
"Oye," she called out the window she was rolling down, as she pulled to a step next to the side walk. "Don't I know you?" she prompts, leaning closer to her passenger side window to be heard. "OH! You totally did some work for Crimson Siren, right?" she didn't wait for an answer, not usually so benevolent, but she still needed that friend.
Not this one in particular, but she had to slow-roll this sudden accumulation of acquaintances. "If you're headed to the college, I could give you a ride." They way she waggled her brows to emphasize the deal, could not be seen behind her gigantic sunglasses.
Being nice was hard.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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