| Hands in the pockets of her sleeveless black cardigan, Amelia stands staring at the window display outside a clothing store. Her lack of a tan makes her stand out. As do the Union flag knee-length leather boots she has on. Her head moves as she tilts it slightly, unable to decide if she likes the display or not.
Tabitha is staring at an orange, holding up close to her face, a pungently scented clove clasped in two fingers of her other hand as she tries to thrust the narrower end of the herb into the skin of the orange. She's got a couple of them already embedded, and the rest of her cloven collection must be hiding in the little TARDIS pouch purse she's got hanging in front of her. She's stomping on past, engaged in the activity, but not so much that she doesn't get distracted by the SHINY Union Jack boots over there, treading backward a few steps to look at them more closely.
The smell is what first brings Amelia's head towards Tabitha, then it is the girl's reflection in the glass of the shop window. "Are you making kristingles?" She nods towards the clove and the citrus fruit. Her accent, like her boots, is British; English to be precise. Crisply enunciated vowels and consonants.
"Kristubwuh?" Tabs shakes her head to release herself from the entrancement she'd been trapped in by the splendor of the british boots. "It's a cloven orange," she lifts the item in explanation. "I'm going to bring it with me to Homecoming. Your boots are pretty."
"Cheers." Amelia reaches out for the orange, "May I?" She holds her other hand open for a clove. "Kristingles are common at Christmastime in Europe. You take an orange and using cloves pierce through red ribbon and into the flesh. The ribbon crosses over itself to form a cross shape on the fruit. Then a candle is stuck in the top and lit. It is meant to be for commemorating Christ's blood on the cross and the way he brings light to the world. The spherical shape of the fruit represents the world. Candle, light. Ribbon, blood. Cloves, thorny crown."
"Mhm!" Tabitha extends one arm with the orange, now thrice-cloven, and, with her other hand digging into her little pouch, she extracts another clove to pass over afterward. She steps closer to facilitate the trade. "That sounds pretty, I'll have to look them up online and make one for Christmastime," she smiles. "But, no. Nothing as fancy as that. Just a good old... cloven orange."
With the practiced ease of someone who has done this before Amelia pushes the thorny clove into the flesh of the fruit. "Not that I am religious," she says with a grin flashing at Tabitha, "but we had to make them every winter at school. I'm a dab hand at it now." Lifting it she inhales deeply before handing the orange back. "Plus the smell is divine. Excellent for mulled wine too. Drop one of those bad boys into a pan, glug in some red wine, heat on low for twenty minutes and voila."
"I don't think my mom would let me cook wine," Tabitha grins sort of bashfully, taking another clove and pressing it into the orange. She's not really that good at it-- this might be one of her first experiments clovening fruitthings. "You're pretty good, that's for sure. Mine don't want to go in. I broke like seven of them. But now my fingers smell seriously nummy."
Watching her, Amelia suggests, "Try twisting as you push inwards." She takes in the girl's appearance then. "I think I have seen you before. I'm Amelia." Her hands slip back into her pockets. "I suppose not everybody likes warm wine. I didn't the first time I tried it, but now - well we used to have it every holiday season."
"I can't drink it anyhow. It doesn't mix well with my meds," Tabs relates with a quick dizzy-eyed look, then tries to twist a clove into the fruit, with some manner of success. "Oh, that works better. Thanks! Uh," she tries looking over the girl for hints as to her identity. But she spends half the school day asleep or in a sleepy stupor, so it's no wonder she might not recognize someone not in her class. "Oh! You're the one with all the Converse shoes, right?"
"Ah," says Amelia in the tone that suggests she might have heard that line before. "Converse?" This draws a laugh. "I suppose I have a fair few pair, yes. I like shoes. A lot." She reaches up and scratches the side of her nose making all her wrist bands shift and jostle against one another. "You have French before me. I saw you in there after everyone left, you were sleeping."
"I like shoes, too!" Tabitha lights up brilliantly, bonding over footwear. "I have more boots than I can shake a stick at. None of them go all the way up to my knees, though. Yours always look amazing," she wilts a little, pining in her inability to measure up. "Oh-heh. Yeah, it's not that French is boring, exactly? It's just a lot of sitting after sitting all through English. I can't sit that long. At least in Photography I get to go on field trips around the school."
Taking a step back, Amelia looks at Tabitha's shoes and nods. She grins, "Not always. I look well shifty before I have a cup of tea in the morning. By the time I get to school I've been up an hour or so." With a laugh she adds, "But it's nice of you to say so."
Tabitha isn't wearing anything special on her feet today. Just a pair of black and pink sketchers, always a safe bet to go with jeans and a batman tee. "Wow, that's, like... grown-up style waking up skills. Sometimes first period's already started before I can drag myself out of bed," she laughs.
"At my old school lessons started at seven-thirty, so we had to all be up and finished with breakfast by six so we could go to chapel for seven." Amelia shrugs, "I don't think much about getting up early. Maybe by next year I'll be strolling in late like everybody else."
"Gosh, the only time I've ever seen six o'clock in the morning is when I do an all-night Firefly marathon," Tabitha boggles a little bit. "Yeah, we like being nocturnal here," she grins. "You'll get used to it."
"Isn't that a club of some sort?" questions Amelia. She nods towards the orange again. "Why are you taking fruit to the dance?" A loud guitar riff comes from her pocket, making Amelia roll her eyes. "Pardon me." Lifting her phone out of her pocket she slides her finger across the screen and answers it. "Hullo, Dad. No. Yes. Fine. I said fine, didn't I? Bloody hell. Yes. I will go. I do - whatever." Amelia lowers her phone and cuts off the call, slipping the electronic device back into her pocket. "Sorry about that. My dad can be a right knobhead sometimes."
"It's a TV show. Want to watch it sometime? I have it on DVD with the commentary tracks," Tabitha grins beamishly, then quiets down into a more sedate expression when Amelia has to take the phone call. "Eeee," she squees a little bit. "Knobhead." She thinks it's aorable. "Do you have to leave? It sounded important."
"I don't watch much telly," admits Amelia. "We didn't have one except in the common room. More of an internet person myself." She blinks. "Leave? Oh, no. He wants me to go the dance. Keeps harping on about it. I swear he and my step-dad must have read some book on the," she uses finger quotes, "typical American teenage experience," end quote, "because the pair of them are always moaning how this or that are a great opportunity for me."
"You should totally come!" Tabitha bounces a little bit. "I'm going," she adds. "I've got my costume all together, it's going to be pretty awesome. "I watch most of my TV online, too. What's your net handle? We can chat online and I can send you some links to Firefly stuff."
"Costume?" Having only been at the school for a week, Amelia isn't all up on the theme to the dance. "Is it a masked ball?" Fishing her phone out of her pocket again, she switches on her bluetooth to look for Tabitha's phone, assuming she has one. "I'll ping you with my e-mail. I don't really do chatting, more texting." A lot of texting.
"Masquerade!" Tabitha announces the theme happily. "I'm really glad everyone voted for it, 'cause otherwise I'd have looked pretty weird in my costume," she grins. "If you want to come over and watch some Firefly, we can play around in my closet and put together a costume for you. I've got more costume stuff than real clothes, probably."
Reading out the name of the phone nearest to her, she asks, "Is that your phone?" The offer of costume help has Amelia growing silent. Her brows draw closer as she frowns. "What kind of masquerade? Anything? I haven't a date. A dance without a date seems...well...rather awkward. What do people do?"
"Uh-huh," Tabitha answers. Her phone never makes an appearance, but is probably stuck in the back pocket of her jeans. "I'm not going with anyone," she shrugs. "It's not a big deal. There'll be lots of people there. But if you want someone to escort you there, I can do it. My costume ended up pretty macho, so I could probably pass for a guy," she laughs.
Having settled on who's phone is who's, Amelia sends her contact details to Tabitha including her twitter and e-mail. "Are you a lezzer?" she asks with a grin, the kind of grin that says she isn't bothered either way. "What are the dances like at the school? Is it a good time or are there a bunch of olds just hovering about ruining everything?"
Tabitha turns a nice rosy pink, but she grins with a goofy little laugh, so she doesn't mind the question too much. "I dunno, I never called myself one. But then I've never had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. So the matter's pretty much moot. I think girls are prettier than boys, but that could just be based on factual reality than any sort of perception bias on my part. There'll be grown-ups there, but I doubt they'll get in the way all that much unless people start another riot."
"You'll figure it out soon enough I'm sure," says Amelia kindly, her attention half on a message that popped up on her phone. Her thumbs move quickly over the smooth surface of her smart phone. "Wait...riot?" This has her looking up at Tabitha again. "My experiences of school dances are someone who drank beforehand pukes in somebody's discarded shoes and a few couples make out in the dark corners. Never a riot."
Tabitha shakes her head. "I was making a joke. There wasn't a real riot. Just a minor uprising. Still, it got the admins out of their offices," she smiles slyly to one side. "Anyhow, it should be fun. Don't let your dad nag you into not wanting to go," she pleads a little bit. "I hear there's going to be cloven fruit."
Laughing, Amelia states, "Well if there is cloven fruit I shall simply have to go." Her phone goes back into her pocket again. "I think I have a costume I can wear. So long as there is no theme to it I should be fine."
"Just Masquerade, so anything, really. I'm going with a Steampunk theme," Tabs looks terribly excited to be doing so, as well, all things considered, from the way she keeps bouncing a little bit on the balls of her feet, her knees giving and stretching with the motion, as if standing still were boring her legs. "Wanna walk down to the coffee place?"
"Gautier did something with that for his summer line this year." Amelia nods a little. "Sure. Do they have tea?" She falls in line with Tabitha, not bouncing but walking beside the girl.
Tabitha sort of prances off when Amelia agrees, leaping from her spot as though gravity were nothing to her, landing a few feet further down the boardwalk and spinning on one foot to face Amelia, walking backward with exaggerated steps, almost as if walking through the moves of a dance. "They DO. They have this really amazing giddapahar darjeeling," she looks briefly in mid-melt, or possibly mid-swoon.
"You're an odd sort," she declares with a quiet laugh. "Always moving like a Labrador puppy." Amelia's head turns as a man in a suit skates past. She shakes her head and looks back at Tabitha. "Everything is so foreign here."
"If I stop moving I turn into stone," Tabitha claims. Which is kind of true, inasmuch as she'll fall asleep. "Err, hate to break it to you, but I think you might be the foreign one," she jokes gently, not maliciously, at all, just sort of finding it amusing.
At that Amelia laughs. "Bloody hell, I think you might be onto something there." She comes to a stop outside the coffee house, stepping aside as people exit. "At least in California I won't be the only one with gay dads."
"Yeah, everyone's dads here are at least bi," Tabitha nods her head sagely before dancing around someone exiting the coffee shop, holding open the door for Amelia with a smile.
"This place looks like something out of an American sitcom." Amelia pulls her phone out again and takes a photo. "Nobody will believe this back home." She laughs and loads it up to her twitter feed. "And you're sure they have tea?"
"Uh-huh, I've had it here, before. I don't really like coffee, and even though this place is pretty pricey, it's better than the tea house," Tabs answers, following after Amelia.
Sauntering towards the counter, Amelia leans in against it as she eyes the little boxes of tea on display. Like most English people she is particular about her tea, almost more so than many Americans are with their coffee. When she gives out instructions on how to make it they're very specific.
Tabitha is soon chiming in with 'Same!' because, while it's not her usual order, now she can have tea like an actual British person likes it, and even ordered it in that awesome accent. Best teatime ever!
Thankfully Amelia finds that sweet and not creepy. So much so that she pays for their drinks. "Oh here, have this." She holds out a five pound note that was still in her purse, offering it to Tabitha.
It's very good luck for Tabs, who can, after all, come across as something of a creep from time to time. "Oooooh," she goes all googly-eyed at the moneys being offered her way. "It's so pretty!" she squeaks. "And you didn't have to pay for my tea. I'll have to pay for it next time," she grins bashfully, tucking the note away into her TARDIS pouch full of cloves. She's got an orange in one hand and is waiting on tea with Amelia down the counter, standing on her toes to watch them make it to Amelia's exact specifications. "Do you put anything in your tea?" she wonders.
"I don't mind. Everything here is so cheap," declares Amelia. She turns to lean her hips back against the counter, crossing her Union flag booted feet at the ankles. "Milk," says the English girl. "I don't like sugar in it, but my mum has it that way." Her thumbs hook into the low riding belt she wears partially tucked into the beltloops of her skirt. "Say, I still don't know your name," she tells Tabitha. "I can't very well go around referring to you as the bouncy girl."
The door to the shop opens up and Donovan steps inside. He pauses for a moment as he scans the area before he makes his way towards the counter. Under one arm he carries his sketch pad and a box of pencils. As he arrives at the counter, he stands in line behind Amelia, who he imagines is getting her order handled since she's at the counter before him. He quietly waits, looking up at the menu as he tries to decide what he wants to drink.
"Oh. I'm Tabitha Blayer. Sorry! I mean, for not saying so before. Not for being me. I can't really help that," Tabs grins goofily. "I don't like anything in my tea, most of the time, but I've never tried this one. Is it OK if I try it with milk, too?" She's still bouncing a little bit. It's a good way for her to keep her blood pumping without actually having to run around in circles. Her orange has been speared with a small assortment of cloves, by the by. And she seems to be following Amelia around like a puppy.
"It's your tea Tabitha Blayer," laughs Amelia, "have it however you like." When their drinks arrive she takes her own and shuffles to the side to add milk to it, then stirs and drops the little stick thingie into the trash before finding a seat. Donovan gets a look over and a wink from her. "Thank god the chairs are not metal too or your arse would stick to them," she mutters as she finds an empty table and claims a chair for herself.
Donovan looks up from the menu as he hears the familiar voice of Tabitha, chuckling slightly at the girl. "Hey Tab." He offers to her before he turns his attention to Amelia, not really recognizing her. The wink from her causes him to raise an eyebrow slightly, but returns a smile to her and offers a simple, "Hey." in return. He doesn't catch the comment about the chairs, but steps up to the counter to get his order as Amelia moves to claim a seat. "Mocha latte." He says to the person behind the counter.
Tabitha's focus seems keenly locked in on Amelia, but when Donovan actually speaks to her her head jerks upward and she turns to look, eyes blank, at first, then face lighting up with a smile. "Hey!" she calls, waving her orange in his direction, then putting a little bit of milk in her tea, just like Amelia did. She moves after Amelia, setting her tea and orange down and then sitting by her. "That's Donovan," she introduces him while he's getting his drink.
The loud guitar riff coming from Amelia's pocket becomes louder forcing her to pay heed to it. "Oh," she says, nodding absently in response to the name given. "Sorry, it's the knobhead," she tells Tabitha. Thumb sliding across the front of her smart phone she answers it, "Yes Dad. I'm - fine. You are such a tosser sometimes I swear." Grabbing her to-go tea in the other hand she walks out mouthing, "Later," to Tabitha on the way.
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