.the best days begin at noon. {brunch and a blaze}

[Tash]

At twelve noon on the dot, Natasha LaVeau pulled into the parking lot at Moral Crest High. Red Hot Chili Peppers blasting, she swung her coal colored monster of a '67 Fastback into a spot between a beat up old Nissan and a shiny new GT 'stang, threw it into park and pulled the keys from the ignition. The engine died with a throaty snarl reminiscent of those uttered by the infamous Godzilla in the best of his B movie horror flicks. She flung the door open, her hand shooting out to catch it about an inch away from leaving a pretty dent in the GT to the left, then used the sturdy galvanized steel door to lever herself lightly out of the car.

“Take care, Bambino. I just got you back, mmkay?” she said, giving it a sound thump on its vented hood. She was paying for the work on her car herself and it had been in pretty bad shape when she bought it so it was in the shop just as often as it was on the streets. She had just gotten air conditioning installed and even though it had taken a hefty lump out of her paycheck and she’d have to collect spare change to pay her cell phone bill, she didn’t mind.
She gathered her worn canvas messenger back from the passenger seat and bumped the door closed with her butt, popped her iPod headphones into her ears and swaggered off, her full hips swinging: rhythm courtesy of Bob Marley and the Wailers.

Front Office, Front Office…..
Ah yes, the building with all the lovely tagging on the walls and the sign outside with cracked paint. Tash slouched in, glossing over the dirty look the front office lady shot her for her well worn wife beater that gave the world a preview of her leopard print bra and her toned midriff. She dragged a thrice folded bit of stationary with an explanation of her tardiness due to “family obligations” and a faultlessly forged signature at the bottom. She handed it to the receptionist and said
“Natasha LaVeau…new student.”
“Can I see some I.D., please?”
Tash rummaged around through the myriad of pouches in her bottomless bag, in the process pulling out a tupperware of pasta salad, three double A batteries and a bag of pot.
“Mint tea,” She said by way of explanation to the lady as she finally dredged up her wallet and fished her license out of it. “it’s oraganic stuff.”

She swept the lot back into her bag and snagged her schedule from the receptionist, then headed for the door. Offices rubbed her the wrong way.
Twelve thirty….Well, that would make it just about exactly….lunchtime. Sweetness.
Tash walked the halls, finding her locker with relative ease, dumping a few notebooks and textbooks into her locker before slamming the locker door shut and leaning against it to roll a fresh joint with a pinch of weed. Motions second nature, she lit it and meandered over to a sunny spot on the grass in the courtyard beneath a tree. iPod still thumping out Incubus, she rediscovered her tupper of pasta and sat down for some down time. Ah, public school, what virtually unsupervised bliss.

---

ooc:: okay, okay so it's noon-thirty which makes it legit lunch. not brunch. but the double 'b' sounded classy, okay? forgive me.

[Nicolas Constantine]

Nick was spending his lunch resting beneath a huge tree in the courtyard. Resting meaning sleeping with his headphones on, while his daily thermos of tea and his bag sat next to him. He was having a wonderful nap in the shade, waiting for the bell to awake him for his next class, which he might decide to go to.

Everything was fine and dandy until he smelled something horrid. It was smoke, and it was coming from the other side of the tree.

Nick opened his eyes and pulled down his headphones. He sighed with annoyance and got to his knees do he could peak around the trunk of the tree.

It was a girl he had never seen before, smoking what seemed to be a joint.

"Uh, excuse me? I don't think smoking is allowed on campus."

Nick wouldn't have usually minded, if it weren't bothering his nap.

[Tash]

If he spoke, she never heard it. He'd interrupted her in the middle of Incubus' second verse of Nice To Know You. Seeing as she'd never run across this specimen of human life before, the sonority of Incubus was of higher priority than whatever he was saying. In fact, it was his motion in the corner of her eye that she noticed.
That and the look of annoyance on the corner of his face. What was that all about?
Tash half closed her eyes, bobbing her head to the beat, letting Brandon Boyd sing out the end of the verse before turning her attention to him fully. Brilliant rock on a sunny San Fran day. Missing the first half of the school day. Her baby out of the shop. Didn't get much better than that. She put the joint out on the bottom of her ratty converse and got down to the serious business of pasta while dislodging her headphones from her ears.
"Eh, wha-? Sorry hon, come again?"

[Nicolas Constantine]

Nick waited there for what seemed five minutes before she decided to acknowledge his presence. When she finally turned to him, she had already put out her joint.

"Eh, wha-? Sorry hon, come again?"[/i]

All Nick had seen from his angle was a mess of dreads, but when she faced him, he was shocked at how beautiful she was. It kind of shocked him a little too much, because he stuttered in his accent when he spoke.

"Um... uh... I-I was just w-wondering if you minded p-putting that out..." he pointed to he joint without looking away from her face.

[Tash]

An impish smile tickled the corner of her pretty mouth and her brilliant green eyes danced lazily to match. It didn't occur to her as to why he might be at a loss for words, his reaction just amused her. Normally she'd be offended by a request to alter her habits but she'd picked some pretty dank weed and she was fairly mellow already. And hungry. Hence the pasta.
"Oh...."That took a moment to register."Beat you to it, then, yeah?"
She shook the tupperware in his direction. The rotini in chilled marinara with olives danced for him. "Want?"
Perhaps it was the sunny day, perhaps the good music, perhaps the superior quality of the Mary Jane that made her overlook the fact that she didn't know this guy's name and he didn't know hers and he seemingly didn't approve of her habit. For all she knew he had mono or something else godawful but she was offering him her food anyway. It was a good day and she had good pasta - why not spread the love?
"Trust me, it's fuckin' good. I'm Italiana, I know my pasta." She quirked one eyebrow, hefting messy locks out of her vision with her free hand. "Hmm?"

[Nicolas Constantine]

He looked at her embarrassingly, shaking his hand out in front of him towards the pasta.

"Ha, no thanks, I'm good. Just had some tea." he chuckled.

He knew tea wasn't a substantial meal, he didn't think she'd care. Now that he was closer to her, he could not only see that she was faded, but he could smell the weed on her too.

"And yeah, you kind of beat me to it. I really don't mind, it was just bothering my sleeping is all. Sorry if I killed your fun." he explained in his accent.

[Tash]

She shrugs, bra strap sliding off one hazelnut skinned shoulder, then turns her jade green eyes to the pasta. MJ made it ever so much more captivating.
"Your loss -" She pauses then, glances in his direction. "Name....?"
That's what was missing. Ah, barely afternoon and already forgetting to ask for names. A good day indeed. She smiled that lazy smile in his direction. That shy boy thing he was doing was kind of endearing. "I mean, you got a name, right? I bet it's a good one. Brits always have sweet names."
Tash wasn't one to miss a European accent. Her own was an odd blend of a California drawl and Italian rhythm. Words rolled off her tongue like Mediterranean sea breakers on a summer day. It was pretty to listen to but pretty tough to pin down a locale on her by language.
"Tell me anyway, what's a Limey boy doing in NorCal? Seems a little far from home."
Tash was curious. She wasn't born European but she did have dual citizenship and goodness knows she'd spent enough time in Bella Italia to be pegged as a local. Not too many Old Worlders ended up in SF public schools. So she bit.

[Nicolas Constantine]

He let her speak completely before he began. Wouldn't be nice to interrupt the lady in the middle of her high. But he couldn't help but shout out at the name she called him.

"Limey! I'm no Limey, love! I'm Nick. Nicolas Constantine." he said proudly.

He still hadn't answered all her questions. She was curious for a pothead. A very good-looking pothead.

"I'm here because my father and I moved here. He was out of work back home, and he's had better luck in California. I'm just along for the ride, I guess."

Nick got out of the awkward position he was in on his knees and went and sat next to the girl. Very close to the girl, so the top of their arms were touching.

"What's your name and story?"

[Tash]

Again that slow, slow crocodile smile. Teeth flashing pearls in a cafe au lait face.
"Tash." comes the reply. "Short for Natasha. Natasha LaVeau. But use the short one, mmkay?"
Between forkfuls of pasta (which disappears at a prodigious rate) she explains. "I'm first generation. Dad's Haitian. Mamma's from Ansidonia. Mediterranian coast town in Italy. But her Papa's half of the famiglia is from Palermo. So I spend my summers there with family."
As she speaks, her free hand toys with the ring on her necklace absentmindedly. She comes to the end of her explanation and realizes with something of a melancholy expression that she's finished her lunch. She sighs, belches like a three hundred pound linebacker after post-game pizza and beers.
"Classy, I know." It's not an apology, but it is something of a joke.
After stowing the tupperware in her bag and ending the life of one paper napkin, she extends one slender cutoff-gloved hand, crossing over her body for a handshake. The crossing over drops one shoulder and causes her bra-strap to lose a little more of the ground it was desperately attempting to hold on her shoulder. Not that she notices: it's not getting in the way there.
"I was right about the name, Nickie Constantine. Quite poetic, in a Renaissance sort of way. What sort of Brit are you? Where from: I can never place where. Dunno why. Never can."
She tilts her head back lazily, following his movement as he stands and steps over to sit beside her. His upper arm brushed hers and she cast him a sideways glance, holding it quiet and calculating for a second. That kind of look from her piercing green eyes made even creepy men on the bus stand down. Then her lips twitch and she dips her head trying to smother a giggle. After about five seconds she fails miserable and a little burbling laugh makes its way past her lips.
"Beccare qualcuno. Oh, I like you Nick. You're a bold one. Bold is fun."

---

ooc: 'beccare qualcuno' is an italian term for 'hitting on'.

[Nicolas Constantine]

He laughed at her gigantic belch. Nick was feeling more comfortable now as he relaxed beside Tash, locked in a bizarre type of starring contest with her. He noticed her eyes were a emerald green, which shined, even in the shade. No matter what kind of look she was giving him, he didn't falter. If she really wanted him to have backed away, she would have hit him. Hard.

"Grassetto è divertente." he said agreeing with her in Italian. She probably didn't see that one coming.

"I try to be quite bold, but its only really fun when the girl is bold back." he smirked.

He went back to answer her previous question.

"I'm from a quaint town in England. Its called London, ever hear of it?" he joked.

[Tash]

"Grassetto è divertente."
She can't help it, his response makes her beam. It's an expression as vibrant as the face of a Tuscan sunflower.
"Where did you learn?"
It's rare to meet a fellow European, but one who speaks some Italian - Tash is usually something of a lone wolf, but she's not completely antisocial. And sometimes it gets lonely, not hearing the language you love best spoken every day. It made her feel more comfortable than she usually did. Even if the words were tinged with a British accent, they reminded her of Ansidonia and Palermo summers....
His answering her question brought her back to earth.
"Foggy London town? Heathrow and Fleet Street and the Picadilly Circus. The swans in Hyde Park. Yes, I've heard of London."
She leans back against the tree, stretching her arms up behind her to hug it backwards, stretching out her shoulder muscles. Still stretching like some jungle cat, she looks over at him, half teasing, half serious.
"Bold....well, I'm bold, but probably not how you've got in mind. But still I guess bold is bold. So I'm what the doctor ordered."
She stretches another inch upwards, loving the feel of the bark on her skin, the smell of the grass. The day is infinite and she's lost in her own world for a minute. This happens a lot.
"What class have you got next?" comes the murmured question, her eyes half closed, lashes fluttering. She's having a good day. Her Bambino is in the lot, her rent is paid, she missed the first half of class, and met someone chill - someone who can speak some of her language. Definitely a good day.

[Nicolas Constantine]

Nick chuckled. He knew she'd enjoy it.

"I learned it back in England, when I was younger. I know three languages, English, French, and Italian."

That's the skill he got from being from a rather wealthy English family. Well, not anymore... now he knew what middle class was. Used to be a joke, very funny. Of course she had heard of London.

Tash then stretched her arms back on the tree, her tan skin sliding over her now clearly visible muscles. She looked at him with a very blazed stare.

"Bold....well, I'm bold, but probably not how you've got in mind. But still I guess bold is bold. So I'm what the doctor ordered."[/b]

"Well I hope you are, because then you wouldn't be able to handle me as well as you are right now. And you are the kind of bold I'm taking about. Everyone is, I just have to get you to show that side of you."

"What class have you got next?"[/i]

Nick put his hands behind his head, leaning back onto the tree.

"Doesn't matter, I don't think I'm gonna go."

[Tash]

More shrugs and the dreads bounce. Her fingers play with the bark on impulse. She quirks one elegant brow at him, a half smile still ghosting at the corners of her mouth.

"Really. I wasn't aware I was handling. You think you know what my wild side is like?"

There was a bit of challenge in the statement. Already Nick knew more than most at the school, but even what she'd told him was only a tiny fraction of the pie. He was seeing a square inch of dots in a pointilist painting. It irks her a little that he assumes he has an idea of how she works already. Only one person besides her had an idea and it wasn't Nick.
She was never one to beat around the bush. Ready...aim...straight to the heart.

"What are you hoping to get out of me showing my....bolder nature?"
Always the little crocodile smile. She bet she could guess what he was thinking now and moved on.

"Hey, man, I'm like this when I'm not faded."
She laughed a bit. Not like he'd have much reason to believe her. Or proof.
"It's not the world that sucks. It's a shit ton of the people in it. The world - she's bella, huh?"

[Nicolas Constantine]

"Really. I wasn't aware I was handling. You think you know what my wild side is like?"

Nick laughed at her assumption.

"Ha ha, no, love. I'm saying that I'd like to know what your wild side is like." he smirked.

She knew what he was aiming towards, but Nick thought of if in a different way.

"What are you hoping to get out of me showing my....bolder nature?"

Nick looked at her with his dark blue eyes, to show that he meant what he said next in a serious manner.

"That's not what I'm getting at. It's not what you or I can get from it, it's the path you take to get there that makes it interesting and worth while."

He returned the smile she had given him.

"It's not the world that sucks. It's a shit ton of the people in it. The world - she's bella, huh?"[/b]

He was relaxed even though he wasn't high in the least.

"Magnificamente grandi...

[Tash]

"Not the kind of journey I usually take."
she responds, her shoulders relaxing slightly. He hadn't been making assumptions. All was right in the world again. Balance. Zen. Yin and Yang.
shit, what was the going on about? fucking meditation class at the gym. it was messing with her psyche...
"You know," New track."You're the first person I've met here. I'm no social butterfly, but it's nice to know someone. Get what I'm saying? Yes, no, I don't know....whatever. I should probably maybe get to class. American gov....even though I have no idea where it is."
As if on cue, the bell rang. She twitched a bit, but hadn't yet mustered enough motivation to really get up. For a moment, she sat there, soaking in solar power or some such, and then she rolled forward, gathering up her legs and rising agilely to her feet. Tash adjusts her bag and tugs her shirt down haphazardly over her bellybutton. It rises back up again in protest and she ignores it. viva la revolucion. Whatever. She pauses, blinks.
"Mind escorting me to class? I'll get lost right now."
No shame in admitting it. She had no idea where anything was on this campus.