Jace

Jace's third-place ribbon was wound around her head like Rambo, whereas Tibby's was safely in his pocket after repeated attempts by the former to stick it on to his back. Both were making their way once more out of a conference center with a large-ish crowd of young people, although this time Jace wasn't leaving via the top floor.

"That was -so- rigged," the redhead was saying gleefully to him. "Did you see the guy who won my section? He looked like the clone of that fourth judge. They were probably inbred."

It took a moment before Tibby realized he had been addressed. "Oh, what?" Jace glared. "Eh, sorry, I was thinking about other things," the Brit
quickly explained, adding, "I can't believe that bloody photosynthesis project always wins. Say, would you like to go and get a bite? -- To eat, that is."

"Sounds good to me. Let's go drown our sorrows in processed chicken necks." Jace looked mollified, even though he had deigned to ignore her. It took a lot to ignore her. "And don't be surprised. The people who are lame enough to do photosynthesis are usually the ones sleeping with the judges."

Tibby chuckled. Out of all the people he knew, Jace had the dirtiest sense of humor, dirtier even than Thomas's. "I'm not sure how I feel about chicken necks," he finally said, "but there's a nice bistro just around the corner I know of. Would that work?"

"Sounds good. I'm not choosy." She wheeled herself forward, hands strong and capable, before looking at him suspiciously. "Hey, how do you know there's a bloody bistro around the corner? I've lived here all my life and I barely know where the hell the local hospital is." The redhead paused. "Then again, I'm your local cripple, so I don't get out much, do I? Fucking foreigners, think they're so big, they're not big, Jace is big," she added obliquely.

"Yes, indeed," Tibby replied, almost mimicking her, almost jovial. He grinned as they stepped (or rolled, as was the case) onto the bistro patio. "This is sort of a favorite spot for ISAS students. Will that table do?"

"Do I look like the sort of person who cares about what damn table we choose? I don't care. I'm surrounded by yuppies."

Tibby rolled his eyes for added drama and seated himself. The table was white and had a large green umbrella protruding from its center. The words "Toni's" were printed along the edge of the umbrella.

Jace moved so that she could sit across from him and looked around. She was beginning to get the odd urge to fiddle nervously with her fingers. "Nice place you got here. What's ISAS like? It makes my school look like a hole. Wait. It is a hole."

"Fleming's not really-- Hmm. I suppose you're right. It is a hole." Tibby paused as the waiter delivered their menus and two glasses of water. He took a sip of his before continuing. "ISAS has a nice campus, good student body, and apart from the cliché cliques of our age group, has a fine intellectual atmosphere. There are too many students trying to be Americans, I'm afraid. No offense, of course."

"Heh, I know what you mean. Embarrassed because of their accent and of being - foreign." She raised a crimson eyebrow at him. "So you don't ever want to identify with the Land Of The Free If You're Rich, Teaboy?"

Almost as if it was a conditioned response, Tibby scoffed. "I should hope not." He finally took the time to glance down at his menu.

"You wouldn't make a good American. You don't shout a lot and you don't drink." Jace scanned down her own. "Unless you secretly go home and have a good booze-up with that monkey you live with and get royally pissed. Wouldn't surprise me. Do you?"

"No, Jace, I don't," he said amusedly. Jace definitely had a sense of humor all her own. The waiter returned.

Jace looked in feigned surprise at the waiter who'd just appeared. "Hell, you work here? Here was I thinking you were just part of the damn decor. Ladies first. Tibbs, what'll you have?"

The waiter blinked confusedly, but Tibby pointedly ignored the man. "I suppose I'll have the broccoli cheddar soup and a cup of tea, please." He closed his menu and looked over at Jace.

"The ham and mesculin sandwiches. And a short black, thanks." Jace passed Tibby's menu and her own back to the man and then suddenly glared evilly at the dark-haired boy opposite her as the waiter walked off. "I know your secret."

Surprise must have been written all over Tibby's face. His mouth stopped in a half-open position and his eyes widened. How could Jace possibly know he was Horologium Kamen? Tibby's mind raced uselessly in circles. He finally choked out, "A-and what secret might that be?"

"You're a robot who gets his power drinking tea and you plan to take over the earth with the power of English Breakfast and Earl Grey." Jace grinned at him sunnily.

Tibby nearly fainted in relief. "Oh, well, everyone knows that," he laughed nervously, waving his hand nonchalantly. But his hand was trembling and he averted his eyes, instead looking towards a nearby oak tree.

Jace rolled her eyes. He'd looked as surprised as if she'd announced that he was the sailor senshi of bone marrow or something. That thought stopped her in her tracks, the thought of him being like her - only to die after a few seconds. With some people, you could just tell who wasn't one, and Tibby counted among those.

Haphazardly, she changed the subject to get him off it. "Oh - I never said sorry."

"Sorry? Whatever for?" Tibby finally managed to look back at her and seemed to calm down a bit.

She rested her chin on one of her hands, eyes downcast, poking at the salt shaker. "Causing a riot at the Science Fair that one time and proceeding to bitchslap you."

"Oh, yes, that," he said. "I'm sorry for driving you to it." Yes, and that had been the same day he'd fought that metallic senshi on the roof. It was too bad Jace didn't have a set of metal legs like that girl. Then again, he could just picture the damage she'd wreak. Before he became too involved in his own inner musings, Tibby added, "Let's call it even."

"Yeah." For some inane reason, she felt her cheeks reddening, leaning her head forward so that her long bangs could fall across them. "Thanks. I'm - not that good at saying sorry. Never saw the damn need."

With the kind of timing only a waiter could manage, the waiter serving their table reappeared with their food. "Soup here," he announced, "and sandwich for you, madam. Here's your tea."

"That was fast. Thanks," blurted Tibby. The waiter had saved them from a potentially disastrous line of conversation.

Jace looked about as relieved as he'd felt, pulling her plate across to her and stabbing at it lightly with one fingertip, as if to make sure it was fully dead. "Mm," she said non-commitally, as the waiter got to walk away without being heckled.

"Now I remember why so many ISAS students come here," Tibby suddenly said. He was holding his hot tea to his face with his eyes closed. "They make a lovely cup of tea."

"Oh, God! So I'm surrounded by tea-obsessed cyborgs?" She picked up one half of the sandwich and savaged it, chewing enthusiastically. "S'a fucking conspiracy."

Tibby sighed. Sometimes Jace just said the darnedest things. Replacing the hot cup of tea in the saucer, he began at his soup and tried to think of a viable conversation topic before he came off as an idiot. Forget sports. He doubted she watched rugby. Then again, he had very little idea what she watched. Perhaps now would be a good time to rectify that. "So, do you watch any sports?"

"Some of the time." She swallowed what she'd been chewing. "Can't be bothered watching TV otherwise. Too busy training. Do you watch sports? Does England even have sport? I forget."

"Well, I used to play football -- er, soccer -- but there isn't any league around here except for girls'. Sports selection is roughly the same in England as it is here, only less of your football and more interesting sports that never caught on Stateside."

"Yeah. And you have that pansy football where nobody wears any padding." The redhead killed and devoured the other quarter of her sandwich. "Do you miss it?"

Tibby shrugged and poked his spoon in his soup. "A bit. I know mum and dad miss me more. I'll be going back in a few months anyhow. End of the school year and all."

An expression crossed her face that he couldn't quite decipher. "Heh. Coming back next year for more punishment?"

"Well, if I ever go over to England, that's the school I'll know to bomb." Jace's expression managed to forcibly switch itself to normal; something halfway between a grin and a smirk. "I'll save you from yourself. Dr. Parfett or whatever just sounds silly."

"Ha, don't expect me to stay there any longer than I have to! I intend to graduate quickly as I can and start playing the stock market."

"God, I should have guessed. You're a numbers freak." Jace made a face at him. "Tibby Parfett, the... wait. Is your name actually Tibby? If so, poor fucking you."

"No, I don't." She cringed inwardly; most likely because of the concussion she'd got being chucked off a damn building. Jace tried the name out in her mouth. "Theodore. Heh." She looked up and actually managed to smile and meet his eyes at the same time.

Tibby looked mildly miffed, mildly amused, and overall quite pleased. There was a small smile on his face as he gazed at Jace from behind his glasses. One hand dangled his spoon in his soup while the other rested on the table. And that was all. He simply watched her intently.

For one moment, something within her faltered, as if her blood had suddenly decided to stop moving. For the first time in her short life, Jace Kellen was truly paralyzed as she was caught staring at him, realizing that he had damn amazing hazel eyes, and - damn damn damn damn damn!

Caught up in panic, Jace tore herself away, glancing down at her watch and babbling incoherently. "Sweet zombie Jesus, I have to catch a bus."

Shit. Jace couldn't even catch a bus, but she was hoping he didn't know that. "Yeah. I have to get back to Fleming. I'll be late." Frantically, she dug her wallet out of her pocket, depositing a number of bills on the table. "Here. Pay mine. I - I have to go." Blindly she grasped the wheels of her chair, motoring backwards before she knew what she was doing. "G'bye - Theodore."

And then she was gone.

Tibby just sat, shocked, staring after her. "J-Jace, wait!" he called, knowing she was already well out of earshot. He began to grit his teeth together, a nervous habit he had tried (unsuccessfully) to get rid of. He shouldn't have pestered her about his name. How stupid! Looking down at his soup, he suddenly decided he had lost his appetite and stood, adding his own contribution to the money on the table. The cup of cooling tea sat invitingly on the table. Screw the tea, he decided. He didn't deserve it.