` you could be my hero {alice/open

[Crush]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Kings%20and%20Queens/middle-1.png] [scrolly:h(224),w(434),sy] If there was one thing that Alice was thankful for this particular day, it would have to be the idea of a weekend. It had been a long first week, but then again it often was. It took a bit to adjust from the relaxing pace of life she had while living with her father over the summer in France. This year, they'd even left Paris, gone for a road trip around the country in the car he'd bought her, now that she had her full license and could drive. It wasn't anything special, but it was hers. She didn't have it here, but it was nice to know it would be there when she returned, just like Chocolat, her siamese cat. Her head tilted away from the words on the page and she glanced out the window, missing her summer life a bit. It wasn't anything spectacular, there were no big stories to share, but it had been nice nonetheless. With a soft sigh, she slipped a bookmark into her spot, the book having been propped up against her knees, which were tucked up a bit to allow her to fit in the windowsill's space. She closed the book around the bookmark and turned, sliding off the cushions she'd been resting on and placing the book there. She really should have been looking for one book in particular that she needed for an assignment for her culture and assimilation class, but The Count of Monte Cristo had been far more appealing. A tale of revenge, yet a tale of love. She wasn't one for the modern romance novels, but the older classics often made for good reads, she found, and she had no qualms about Alexandre Dumas. Finally skimming the rows and rows of books, she let her fingers trail along the spines of them, small smile lighting upon her face. She'd always liked libraries. There was something about the quiet silence which just seemed so terribly loud that was enticing to her, and it always had been. The books, the smell of dust that coated many a library, those were lovely as well, in her opinion. Her smile fell to a bit of a frown for a moment. Where the book should have been, it wasn't. Well, that's rather unfortunate. She murmured softly to herself, English accent clear and loud within the silence, her voice refined, well-schooled, each emphasis placed correctly, making each word clear and precise. A habit, in a way. She'd always pronounced things this clearly, no matter what language she spoke, and she wasn't sure if it was picked up from her schooling, or simply something she had started on her own and stuck with. She never thought about it much, either, not anymore. She had, once, when she'd been a curious child, but those days were long past. [/scrolly]

[echo]

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[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] Fingers rubbed against the stubble on his cheek as the slightly shorter-than-normal man focused on the materials in the janitor closet. Dressed in a uniform that screamed 'measly janitor' that he had found in this very closet, Slate was pretty content with how his plan was going so far. No one had said anything to him, he was practically invisible, being dressed how he was. Sad thing was- he has no idea how janitors really acted, and he had no idea what he should do. Maybe clean. Obviously. That's what janitors did, right? Did they do it at this time of day? No idea. Oh well, he'd take his cleaning to the library, somewhere he figured not a lot of students would be. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself, especially since he already looked... extremely un-janitorial. After all, he was covered in tattoos, had a couple lip piercings, and he had long black hair. Yeah, not your typical janitor. Grabbing the janitorial cart, he placed a mountain dew bottle in one of the holding spots on it- filled with a mixture of yes- mountain dew and vodka. Typical Slate, taking alcohol into a "sort of" public place. There wasn't enough to get him drunk, or even a good buzz. But enough to make him feel warm and cozy. He grasped on to the cart, pulling it outside of the door. He pulled up he ring of keys- now attached to his pants, and on to one of those stretchy things, he flicked to the key that locked the janitors closet. He locked the door behind him, before heading off towards the library, pulling that annoying cart behind him, whistling along the way. It wasn't long before he made it to the library doors, pushing them open with his back, pulling that cart with him, barely making it in before the door shut on it. One glance around the library, and he was able to note only a few students visible, one librarian. Not too bad. Slate's gaze shifted back to that cart, biting his lip as he tried to decide which cleaning utensil to use. Finally, after a moment of thought, he decided on a rag. He would wipe the dust on the books. Of course, he only assumed there would be dust... after all, he didn't like books, so that meant other people probably didn't really care for them either. Resulting in his new-found enemy. So, taking up the challenge, the black haired shifter set to wiping off books sitting along all of these shelves. More books than he would be able to read in a lifetime- he knew that. He wasn't even sure how long it'd take him to read one book. Well, for being as intelligent as he was, he was an extremely slow reader. But the silence was what really was bothering him. That silence was killing him- he hated it. So, he resorted to what really would break the silence- hopefully. Humming softly, before singing quietly to himself. He kept feeling like it was too loud, until he heard a girl speak. What was unfortunate, he wondered. Curiosity taking over, he took his soft singing as he shifted rows, hoping to find her as he wiped those books off. I'm the one that you want Even if you just don't know I'm the one that you need I'll wait till I take that role Man I should have seen this coming Deliver me the final blow The final blow ----- Words: Six Hundred Six He's singing those at the end C: [/scrolly]

[Crush]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Kings%20and%20Queens/middle-1.png] [scrolly:h(224),w(434),sy] Mon dieu... The two words were murmured softly as someone started singing and she rolled her eyes. Did he, whoever he was, not understand the purpose of a library? Silence was key, they were meant to be studied in after all. With a slightly annoyed sigh, she glanced around, spotting a shape moving in the next aisle over. Peering through the gap between the top of the books and the bottom of the shelf above them, she spotting what could only be some sort of janitor outfit. Except, any self-respecting janitor left the library for early morning or late evening on the weekends to avoid dealing with a grouchy librarian. She quickly took strides to round the corner, arms crossed, her own book still in hand, slight glare in her eyes as she fearlessly stepped right into his bubble. One, you should not be singing in the library. Two, you are no janitor. There was no polite hello, but yet manners well-taught shone through simply in her word choice. Her shoulders were proudly square and pulled back, posture perfect as ever with her chin tipped up as she stared him straight in the eye. It wasn't like it was difficult - he was the exact same height as her after all. [/scrolly]

[echo]

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[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] In one quick moment, Slate saw her, right in his peripheral vision. She was approaching quickly, and she did not look happy. But she did look sexy- definitely older in appearance, with dark hair and pale skin. And blue eyes- oh the wonderful color he wished his eyes were. Something colder, something not as expressive as those chocolate-y ones he owned. But alas, he was stuck with those eyes, and she had the beautiful eyes he wanted. About to greet her, in hopes to cool her down before she started speaking, he realized she'd began speaking already. One, you should not be singing in the library. Two, you are no janitor. A grin found it's way on to the undercover janitor's lips, spreading from cheek to cheek. His teeth even showed- something Slate usually tried to avoid.... Well, this girl... she was good. That was clear. But there wasn't really anything she could do about him- was there? Well, he'd have to try and get her to accept the fact he was indeed a janitor. He even had a fake janitorial license made. At least be believed they had licenses. "Well, hello to you too. I wasn't singing loudly." He kept his voice calm, and almost playful, trying to get her to be a little less... uptight. "And I am to a janitor. What makes you think I'm not? Do you want proof or something?" An innocent shrug was issued at that point, hoping she wouldn't smell the alcohol on his breath. Of course, it wouldn't be too prominent, but he knew shifters had a better sense of smell than humans. He would know- but he figured it might depend on what animal they shifted in to. ----- Words: Two Hundred Ninety Seven Posts with Slate always makes me lol for some reason.. x) [/scrolly]

[Crush]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Kings%20and%20Queens/middle-1.png] [scrolly:h(224),w(434),sy] I didn't say you shouldn't sing loudly. I said you shouldn't sing. As in, at all. It's a place of quiet. Peace. You want to sing, you go out in the halls. End of discussion. One could swear she was the librarian, the way she naturally took charge and reminded him of the rules without any hesitation. Honestly, she wasn't shy - quiet and soft spoken, but never shy. A lady, a proper one. Of course, she was far more opinionated and determined than her mother would like - to outspoken in that regard. Her father loved it, though, and it had made her great-grandmother laugh. That had been enough for her. She'd never appreciated her mother's authority anyways. Of course, then a confidant smile slipped onto her face as she gave him a cursory glance up and down. Yet, there was nothing that could be presumed from it, not really. It was trained, like a tailor sizing up a person, or - more likely where she learned it from - an etiquette teacher looking for mistakes in her student. And I've been here since Innovation opened. They wouldn't hire anyone with such... decorative body work as you. Shelter would be provided for any shifter, but work? Not a chance, except as, perhaps, a guard. I am no idiot, and I would appreciate you don't treat me as such. There was the haughty pride again, more so from a knowledge she was, indeed, smarter than he seemed to assume. When it came to matters of money - something that had never been a problem for her - she was hardly stuck up. Then, being so close brought about a result as she caught a whiff of his breath. She took a step back, pride evaporating to ever so slight disgust. Alcohol? Really? What are you, some homeless person hoping to scrounge a meal? Of course, being of the equine variety, his breath told her much more. It was one of the ways horses greeted each other, after all, breathing into each others nostrils so that they may share, prove they were not threats to the other. A simple hello few cared to notice, but it told far more in emotions than one would imagine. Not that she needed it to figure out what he was feeling right now. He made it abundantly clear all on his own. [/scrolly]

[echo]

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[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] Slate grinned, teeth showing once again, not at all offended by how blunt she was being. Of course he wasn't sure she was even aiming to offend him- she probably wasn't even trying (it was easy to find ways to 'try to offend' him), but he figured that it would probably offend... normal people to say the least. This coyote shifter took everything at a whim and with a laugh. And that's exactly what he did. Not loudly, mind you, but maybe enough to be heard a couple feet away. He wouldn't let a silly girl, or anyone else offend him needlessly. He didn't find a problem with others expressing their opinions- even about him. He didn't even care if people tried to prove him wrong. He did enjoy proving them wrong though. "Not many people are in here. I didn't think a little bit of music would offend someone so dearly." was all the black-haired man said, shrugging lamely as he turned sideways so he was no longer facing her. He tried to prevent that new grin, but was unable as he took to wiping off more of the books. "I am not aiming to treat you like an idiot. But I really am a janitor. Maybe a self-hired janitor- but one nonetheless. So I am just letting you know. I mean, what kind of cleaning would I get done in the hallway? These books are soooo dusty." He could not stop his grinning as he dragged the rag atop the books instead of along the spines now. "Shelter for any shifter? Well I'm a shifter. Maybe I was just paying back for the shelter for the day. Or would I be turned away because of my tattoos?" he asked cockily, brown eyes shifting to the pale girl, with one curious brow raised. In that moment, he could not help the laughter that burst from his throat, one hand moving to hold on to the shelf, and his right hand shifting against his stomach, as if trying to hold the noise in. After a few seconds of his bout of laughter, Slate's voice dropped back to a whisper, that eyebrow raised once more. "Homeless because my breath smells like alcohol? I'm not homeless in the least..." A pause. "You're funny, you know that? What's your name?" Sure, he was barely paying off his rent, but that did not mean he was homeless. Yet. Oh well. He didn't need to scrounge for a meal even if he was homeless. ----- Words: Four Hundred Thirty Four XP [/scrolly]

[Crush]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Kings%20and%20Queens/middle-1.png] [scrolly:h(224),w(434),sy] Her skepticism was clear on her face as he continued to speak, with all those little white lies and doubtful comments and such. Every little pet peeve she could think of, but she just huffed, arms still crossed as she brushed by him, narrowly avoiding contact as she did. Meanwhile, her face turned towards him, with an annoyed look in her eyes. Liar. She was rolling her eyes, intent on walking away when she'd caught his next question - and she seriously considered not answering. That, however, would be rude. So, rather than stoop to a lower level, she rose above, back to the manners ingrained on her. And my name, if you must know, is Alice. Alice Genevieve Morel. She didn't sound any happier, or even any less pissed off, as she introduced herself - nor did she care. Manners didn't require her to be pleasant, just polite. They were two completely different things. [/scrolly]

[echo]

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[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] Slate gave Alice a crooked smile- not as in evil, the coyote shifter wasn't like that. But, just the fact the smile was a bit lopsided- an everlasting habit ever since he was a child- not that he really had the chance to smile often with such a screwed up father. The skepticism at this moment was clear on this girl's face, but it didn't bother him in the least. Let her doubt him- it wasn't like it made any difference in the long run. He technically wasn't lying... he just wasn't telling the truth. That was okay. At least in his book. Watching as the girl walked past him, he took this chance as her head turned. He turned his entire body with ease, leaning forward to plant a quick peck on her cheek. A new, cocky grin spread on the shifter's face as his head leaned back and his back straightening to return to his former position. "Well, nice to meet you, Alice Genevieve Morel. I'm Slate. Thanks for asking." The black haired man tried to hold in a chuckle, twirling the rag around his index finger with his right hand. ----- Words: Two Hundred :'D [/scrolly]

[Crush]

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[atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Kings%20and%20Queens/middle-1.png] [scrolly:h(224),w(434),sy] The moment his lips brushed her cheek, she froze mid-step, instantaneous reaction being shock. Embarrassment wasn't there long enough to create a blush, and it was quickly replaced with a mix between annoyance and anger. She spun quickly, hand pulling back before flying, aiming to slap him right across the face. You rude, arrogant, little... At this point, her English fell away from her, replaced by a string of French swear words. For someone typically so polite, she was very fluent in the language of cursing - particularly in French, the language she learned away from the controlling influence of her mother. Finally, she pulled the insults to a stop, taking a moment to catch her breath, face flushed in the rush of anger. Do you have no sense of self-restraint or respect for others? Her voice was accusing, just as it had started, but this time far more so - mostly because this time, it was personal. You didn't just kiss someone on the cheek - at least, you didn't in her world, and that was the only world she knew. So, it was, naturally, the one she would base her reactions upon, whether he liked it or not. [/scrolly]

[echo]

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[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] Slate's head jerked to the side just slightly as the palm of the girl's hand slapped against his cheek. And boy- did it hurt- she had a pretty strong hit for someone who appeared so... almost fragile in his eyes. Even though he thought that of most females, unless they were body building females. Could be considered sexist, but he wasn't really denying anything. The hand not holding the rag went to the cheek that had been slapped, gently touching it with thoughtful fingers. He could practically feel his face going red on that one spot, and that was what made the new grin spread almost excitedly across his face. "Wow. You slap hard." He was clearly impressed by her strength, completely ignoring the insults that were said in English, focusing only on the foreign ones, that sounded like French to him. He wasn't too great at foreign languages but French sounded incredibly fancy. "Is that French? You should teach me." A wider grin was executed at the next pair of words, letting out a soft chuckle, one hand dropping and the other resuming the twirling of the cloth he'd been wiping the books with. "Hm. I have pretty good respect for others. Restraint... not so sure about that one." ----- Words: Two Hundred Fifteen Not too great of a post... I need a break XD [/scrolly]