Making Up New Numbers... (Open)

Of all the days that Ghost Jesoman had lived through, this day was probably the worst of all. Oh, not that her life was ever too difficult, but she always brought trouble on herself. This was no exception. In fact, it was the perfect example of her neverending recklessness, the epitome of punishing days. She didn't mean to steal from the bakery, honest. That's what she said to the Peacekeeper, wide eyes all a-flutter with what might have even passed for regret, if she didn't have an angry shopkeeper standing behind her back, shouting something about that lying, conniving witch of a child.

No, today wasn't going well at all. As careful as she was, her method was close to that of a narcissistic serial killer. Minus the serial killing, that is. Stealing, that's all. What's the point of being great if nobody knows how great you really are? At least, that's what she told herself when she got home, having been given a black eye and an extremely ineffective talking-to about not stealing again. The black eye she could deal with. But her parents? Their talking-to was maybe just a teensy bit effective. So much so that she stormed out of the house, angry at their lack of understanding.

The sharp cold nudged at her arms as she meandered around the District. Her jacket was at home, but she wasn't about to go back there any time soon. She even made a game of it by gritting her teeth and trying to look as unaffected by the temperature as she possibly could, like she was her own furnace, emanating heat instead of being eaten away by the frigid air. She even giggled when people gave her funny looks. Except that soon bored her, and she took to searching for someone to approach. Talk to, maybe. Steal from, more likely.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when a nerdy rich boy walked past, looking.. upset? Confused? As if she could tell the difference. Either way, she rushed to catch up with him.

"You lost?" she asked, smirking slightly to herself.

He looked so nervous! It took all her willpower not to turn away from him and burst into a fit of laughter. Oh, she swore they were around the same age, but she was smaller and with lighter hair and he was absolutely terrified of her for no reason at all. His hands were even shaking. Her own eyes darted all around, looking at the ground and the trees and a few of the other people in the street, but not exactly in a way that could be called inattentive. She just took her sweet time to look back at him, but by then his eyes were glued so tightly to the ground it didn't even seem like an explosion could tear his attention away from the dirt. Ghost just imagined it: Nothing, nothing, nothing, BOOM, nothing. And her smile widened at the thought.

Exaggeration aside, he did look up from the dirt a second later. Where was this guy even from? The moon? She couldn't recall seeing him before, but then he had never wandered into her neighborhood. She forgot the pain of the day and focused on this distraction, and let herself smile about the fact that he could barely look her in the eye.

Oh, but that was mean. If her mother were there, she would scold her for being rude. Don't smile, he looks upset! or some ridiculous order like that. Though she wasn't in the habit of listening to her mother - let alone a fictional representation of what her mother might say - she dropped the smile like it was a bag full of bricks and she couldn't bear the weight of it.

"No, I just don't know where exactly I'm going either," he said. The last word caught her off guard.

"What do you mean 'either'?" she asked, eyes tilting towards the ground and then the sky, as if the answer would come singing from the clouds instead of from the strange, scared person to her left.

"Why are you so nervous?" she asked, staring at him calmly. Another game: don't look away from his face, and watch how long it takes him to become uncomfortable and look away. He would probably die.

She didn't much feel like answering questions anyway, so instead she asked.

"Are you rich?

"Where do you live?"

"Why are you here?"

With a seemingly endless stare, she crossed her arms over her chest and walked along. Her tangled hair brushed softly behind her shoulders with the unkind breeze, which made her realize how obnoxious it was to be outdoors at this time of year. She could tell him that she was going to the District Square, somewhere warm, but then she wanted to avoid the Peacekeepers.. and avoid answering questions.

Holding her chin up, she waited for an answer. The boys hands shook as he spoke, but that was constant. That was predictable. This boy, for whatever reason, was in her neighborhood. Beyond her mild curiosity, he bored her.

And he wasn't in the question-answering mood either.