~The sun smiles on you~ (Darren)

Her light bluish green eyes stared at the boy, who she had decided was named 'K', for the moment. Verronicas thin, rosy lips were set in a straight line across her moon-white face. He...was so submissive. Why did he refuse to meet her gaze? Was it that K was ashamed of what he did? Maybe the guy was good, but that didn't mean he could get away with it. She looked him over, his scruffy clothes, gelled hair, and dark skin. Typical district 10 male. And yet, something about him screamed want for something. Like so many others, this boy was surely almost starving, and needed her purse. Probably. Her face was a mask of indifference as she released her grip on his arm, her slender fingers coming up empty into thick, humid air.

Shoving her hand in the pockets of her home-made pants, she leaned backward casually from him, though her gaze was never removed, not once. Her eyes did not flicker, not waver from this curious boy. What could she say, to ease the thick tension between them, that was almost as solid as the wall behind her. Wasn't it odd that she could always tell when something was right there, but not quite touching her? It might have been some sort of muscle memory, she had been to this Marketplace so many times before, perhaps it was just that. They were standing near the entrance to a fishy-smelling alley way, brick building lined the streets, and a cobblestone road lay dirty underneath bare feet. At least in Verronicas case; she didn't honestly feel the need for shoes, though she probably should have. Glass, and discarded wrapping of various goods lined the gutters, hard to notice and easy to step on.

Whatever, Verronica thought, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly to herself. The sun continued on it's quest to melt all life forms beneath it, making it uncomfortably hot in the sun. Wary of the acute possibility of K bolting, she shifted herself into the shade of a red tile roof towering above her. Long black hairs went to the wind, which stirred up briefly before settling back into tepid stillness. It was only then that she noticed the many emotions flitting across his face, briefly and almost unnoticeable. Surprise, happiness, and then something fake, that covered up whatever he may actually be thinking. Hmph. His smile, however well done, was not genuine. It was a cover up, she thought, like a costume covers ones true identity. Perhaps he wore a permanent costume, one that didn't come off. Chuckling to herself, she imagined a clown trying to take off his costume, and failing miserably. Some carnival act that would be! Verronica could completely see him in one, cockily juggling flaming torches, like she had once seen when she was very young, in one Games or another. It had been a district 12 tribute, dressed in black...

She was getting off topic again, something that tended to happen a lot with her, at least today. Nervously, she started to chew her bottom lip, like she had seen others do, and then thought better of it. That hurt! Maybe she was doing it wrong, it didn't really matter. Taking a large breath Verronica leaned back in, toward K, and almost repeated her question. But, he hadn't answered before, why would he now? She should at least stop calling him K, right? Then again, she was extremely curious as to his motives for taking her bag. You'd think that he was probably taking it just to feed himself, but the brief expression of happiness that crossed his face had given away something else. Hm.... Still, the silence was lengthening, and she had to say something, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

There was a prolonged, slightly awkward pause, in which Verronica stayed exactly where she was, quite unsure exactly what to do with him. K was just lingering, his face blank of all expression. Perhaps he was deciding what to do as well, she mused quietly to herself. He was at a fork in the road, a desicion, as others might call it. She herself preferred fork in the road. Normally, a fork was two paths, one completely different from the other, and forming a nice 'V' shape for you to follow. In reality, a fork had more than 2 prongs, depending on what kind of fork it was. On the television once, she had seen a 5 pronged fork in the capitol, it's silver surface shining, it had seemed practically made out of money. That was not why she was remembering it now though, lost in a world of her own creating, with thoughts spiraling around and around in an endless vortex, otherwise known as her mind. She was recalling this fork, because it was such a better metaphor than the traditional fork in the road.

You see, that one only had two ways to go, an obvious right, and an obvious wrong. Say that you want to decide whether or not to eat her apple. At first glance, it seems as if there are only two paths; she could eat the apple, or she could abstain from doing so. But, on closer examination, one would see that there are at least a dozen different decisions branching off of the first. Maybe she should only take one bite, and save the rest for later. Maybe she should take a big bite, or perhaps a tiny one? Then, if she didn't eat the apple at all, could she lick it? Get a twitch, a mere sample of what would come later? The possibilities from one single choice would be endless, and frankly, it seemed that this boy was trying to run through each and every one of them in his head, right at that very moment. Still, he didn't seem like the silent brooding type. Like Mace? A quiet little voice drilled through her head. Struggling to suppress her thoughts, Verronicas eyebrows furrowed, making her smooth, moon-white forehead wrinkle in effort.

She needed something to distract herself, that much was obvious. An extravagant sight, eccentric smell, something shiny; it didn't matter. Verronica didn't notice K smile, didn't notice him open his mouth. The sound that poured out between his thick, chapping lips astounded her as much as anything else. Giving a slight jump, she pivoted her eyes back towards the adolescent in front of her, his lips stretched into a knowing smile. Verronica rolled her eyes dramatically. What a kid! Yet again, she wished that she could see into his mind, understand the wheels and cogs turning over and over in his brain, making legitimate words. And words there where, rather bland ones, if she did say- well, think so herself.