Survival Of The Fittest

One last tip of the cup and the very dregs of some long-titled tea dripped out. It was really only orange tea with some honey in it for the hell of it; why not call it that? Either way, Adrian set the now empty cup on the short side table next to the overs-stuffed couch and turned back to his sketch pad. There had been a couple at a table across the room too perfect for a sketch to pass up. She was some slut Adrian had seen a few times, a new boy on her arm each time, wearing...well...it was technically clothing, he supposed; and that latest boy, some dumb jock type struggling to tear his gaze from her chest even long enough to drink his coffee.Those two had left a little while ago, but Adrian's picture wasn't finished yet. He was done with the left portion though. In terms of realism, it wasn't his best by a long shot, but the boy liked what he was doing with it. The girl, now done, wore only those pixel squares that are on TV (really, it wasn't much of a change) and he face was nothing more than a grinning skull with long lashes. She had been easy to draw, a 3/5 angle on the face and only a little more profile for the rest of her. The guy though, he wasn't sure how to villify him, and now that the two had left, he had to draw from memory...or else make it up as he went along.

Oh! A perfect idea! Adrian quickly finished off the garden-style chair and placed a golden retreiver puppy's body standing up on it, front paws on the table. The boy couldn't help but laugh quietly at the all too accurate, if unrealistic interpretation of what he'd seen. He normally wasn't one to flaunt his art, or anything else for that matter, but he almost wished he could show this to someone. Oh well.

The boy crossed one leg over the other and used himself as an easel so he could draw more easily without hunching over. Oh, Adrian was in a good mood for once.Perhaps his mood would stay that way for a bit. Adrian thought better and placed the sketch pad beside him as he got up to go get another Iced-orange-who-knows-what-it's-called.

He was thirsty. His throat was dry and it had parched and aching feeling. With a few darts of his blue opticals, he focused on the small rickety hanging sign of The Sweet Bay Cafe.
Sounds like a bag of happiness... oh boy. He started towards the glass windowed cafe, staring at the silouettes of the poor bastards sipping and coughing their drinks. Small talk, crap talk, chats... whatever. He wanted to have a drink and to leave.
He got inside and completely ignored the friendly girl at the sales counter who greeted him. She was just as ugly as that other girl who had tried to talk to him. Whats-her-face-Memore. He started down the carpeted aisle of seats and tables for the tempted to stay customers.
Vincent walked past an empty table when something caught his eye. It wasn't vacant, there was a sketch pad and some other belongings strewn there, but he was more interested in the sketchpad. There was a quite comical rendition of a young girl, he presumed, and a dog in a seat adjesant to hers. It was most likely a moral for this cruel and sick world.
He laughed and decided to sit down and wait for whoever drew this picture. he wanted to know what more there was in this person's mind. Vincent hadn't smiled for a while, ever since last tuesday. he kept track of them, hoping he would stop being such a freak.
I don't have to act like I do... it's a choice. Shut up, Vincent.
"Heh," he muttered as he sat down in the person's booth, hoping he wouldn't creep them out. he looked around for the owner, but grew horribly impatient and started to look through the sketchpad without permission granted.

Adrian walked back from the counter, after a far too long line, drink in hand. He nearly stopped dead when he saw some presumptuous prick looking through his sketch pad...without permission.

Oh yeah, this is why I don't come here often: bloody arrogant prats, all of them...and why did I just use British expletives?...Argh, I'm turning into one of them! The boy decided to have fun with this situation.

He flopped down onto the couch in an entirely girly manner and leaned over to look at the sketch book, as if it weren't his. "Oh! drawings, can I see?" It wasn't really costing him to act so femininely, he just wanted to try to bother this person who deemed himself worthy enough to look through his book without so much as asking. Well, hopefully he'd be bothered by it anyway.

Making people squirm was what made life worth living sometimes.

He looked at the other kid incredulously for a moment, and, as if scandalized, spoke again: "This isn't yours, is it? You don't look like one to be able to create things like these. I do hope you asked whosever book this is to see it. It's just so very rude to not ask!"

Adrian dropped the facade completely and looked the kid square in the eye, almost glaring. "Give me back my book, you damn prick."

Vincent looked at the odd fellow. It wasn't like he was going to steal the book. It wasn't even his, but he guessed it had been completely wrong of him to suddenly go through the pages.
"Look, you can have your damn book back. All it shows is some stupid comics anyways...?"
Vincent stood up. He got out of the booth. He then looked back to the guy.
"I was kind of amused by your talent." he then smiled. "But I apologize for being rude. I should introduce myself in case you want to hunt me down or something."
He pulled out his school ID tag and tossed it to the guy. He scoweled with a sick sense of humor..
"So, thanks for letting me look at your book."

What? If Adrian were one to gawk awkwardly, he probably would have. As was, he shut the book in question with a brow raised slightly, as if in amusement. That had to have been the oddest introduction he'd ever witnessed. It was as if this guy couldn't decide whether he was offended or impressed or some illogical combination therein. There...really wasn't much more to say, well, think about it.

Adrian picked up the card that had been thrown at him, though, and glanced quickly at it.
"So, Vincent, Hobbsborough? You must be new or something; I don't think I've seen you around." Adrian flicked the card back to the other guy. "And I won't be hunting you down. Man-hunts don't go well for me, I'd imagine. I'd manage to get it all messed up and end up switching from hunter to hunted...and that's just no fun."

Adrian paused for a moment. Perhaps it was because he was in such a good mood already, but he was quite enjoying getting on this kid's nerves. It was just so easy.

"Future reference, you might wanna ask before going through other people's stuff." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small pen-kinfe he used for sharpening pencils and charcoal and flicked it open. "You never know when someone might pull out one of these. By the way, name's Adrian."

Vincent stared at the art knife Adrian had pulled out. He felt his head grow wide, as if expanding in a most unplesant way.
The box cutter again. Small. Sharpy-sharp shine. Moving towards my arm and-
He snapped out of it.
"Adrian. Cute... for a girl like you." Vincent sat down on the opposite side of the booth, keeping his mind as far off the box cutter and the art knife as he could. He didn't feel like seeing work from three years ago rise again. "You're right, I wouldn't know."
He pulled the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt up to reveal his arm. The skin looked fine and dandy... around the huge gouging scar that went from his wrist up to his shoulder. It wasn't new looking, but it had that look that it was ripe, and it wasn't about to get any better.
"I gotta be careful, you're right. I've got problems." He pulled his sleeve down again.
"Tea..." Vincent fished in his pocket for some money and found his beaten wallet. He pulled a couple of crinkled bills from it then slipped the leather fold back into his pocket.
"Bye." He then took his ID card back and walked off to go get tea.

Was this kid insane? Adrian had basically just pulled a knife on him, albeit fairly harmlessly and one that was too dull to do much beyond sharpening a pencil, but still! He stammered a bit though, at least there was that much of a reaction.

Oh! That was an impressive scar. Adrian wondered how that one had happened; had it been a story to entail the line "you shoulda seen the other guy" or was this kid somehow unlucky enough to get an arm ripped open and not retaliate?

What, I don't have problems! At least not beyond people with the audacity to flip through my sketch pad, not be insulted when I insult them, and then try even harder when I indirectly threaten them with an art knife. Adrian was about to say something back at this, not quite sure what, but he planned on making anything unimpressive at least acidic.

He didn't get the chance though, as Vincent blathered on about needing a drink and then left to get one. Well that worked out for Adrian just fine. This Vincent was...perplexing to say the least. The lack of automatic dismissal of and ignoring of Adrian could be overlooked, especially if this kid were new to the school and did not yet know to do that. But he seemed to be actively trying to be tolerant of Adrian, despite whatever was thrown at him. That's just not how things worked, even when good moods were involved. Adrian ignored other people, and other people didn't waste their time on him--laws of the universe.

Adrian turned sideways in the seat, bringing his knees up to his chest, and drank some of his Orange Mango Ceylon Darjeeling Premium Domestic Blend. Honestly, it's JUST orange tea! Maybe if he looked like he were brooding, that kid would realize that talking to him just wasn't done. Unless, of course, the spoken bit was some sort of insult or jeer; then it was done, but those were the only exceptions Adrian was aware of.

Vincent looked at the different varieties of tea. There was a lot of the ones he'd been used to seeing in those crappy little packets found in his mother's tea tin. Earl Grey. Peppermint. Darjeeling. Black. Green. He just didn't really see much variety in teas, but none the less, he was damn thirsty. He decided for the green tea. With honey and a bit of lemon of course. His mother always said that putting too much stuff in it killed the flavor, but that was exactly what he wanted to do. He snickered at himself, almost proud that she hadn't scolded him by now.
"Here you go, kid," the guy about a few years older then said with a certain proud authority. "That'll be about... 3.99$."
Vincent handed him the bills and in exchange was handed a single cent. Good thing they smoehow didn't charge tax, but then again, that meant more other taxes. He didn't care, he was still a kid... well, for at least one more year he should be able to enjoy it.
He turned around and found a plastic straw. One with the ribbed part in the middle so you can bend it and shit. He slipped it into the liquid as the ice cracked and tumbled around, as if they were trying to be the first on top of the rest of the cubes.
That Adrian kid is still over there... eh, whatever. I don't really have anymore meat to pick. He looks harmless and confused enough. Anyways, I should get back home.
He drank his tea and flipped the penny in the air, hoping to catch it like they do in the movies, one-handed. Instead it fell on the floor.
"Oh well..." he mumbled as he walked out the door.

(((Continued in Vincent's Humble Abode)))