Can You Hear Me? [OPEN]

Marietta. Marietta Topari. The name sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't think of where. He knew he hadn't seen her before, he'd certainly remember a face like that. Perhaps he had heard people talk about her? Maybe. That thought was associated with one of people in a corner, laughing and un-subtly pointing at a girl towards the front of a classroom. Ahh, yes. Marietta. Everyone made fun of her, but when he asked them why, they didn't have very good reasons. Mostly about her stuttering.

And sure, it had taken her three tries to say her full name, but was that really something that was worth making fun of? Maverick didn't think so. And, yeah, she had looked at him like he was insane when he had asked her name, but she was busy eating a pear. Food was distracting, that was a fact he knew all too well. She wasn't deformed, didn't do anything extreme, and was nice enough. He'd have to do something about those guys that made fun of her when he got back to school.

For now, though, he reached into the basket and grabbed both sodas, cracking top of one open and setting it in the sand next to him. The other, he offered to her. He noticed that her pear wasn't even half gone, and she had had it for a minute or so. Of course, most people didn't eat as fast as he did, but shouldn't... never mind. He knew enough women to know they had strange notions about eating, maybe eating slow with strange men was one of them. Either way, his sandwich was gone, so he took a swig -- alright, a gulp, because half of it was gone -- of his soda, sighing at the relief it brought to the burning thirst in his throat.

"Well, that's a beautiful name. Only fitting, then that someone beautiful like you would have it." Wait, what?! What did you just say? That was... and you just... you didn't even say it right!! Stop talking. Look away. Way to say something REALLY awkward, genius. Now you'll have scared her away, or at least speechless. Frowning, he turned his head completely away from her. Saying something like that, to someone like her, and then staring her down just didn't seem fair. So he wouldn't, he'd just admire that mostly-empty stretch of land over there, and wait for the red to fade from his cheeks, so he could compose himself enough to apologize.

If she didn't see fit to leave, that was. If so, he'd run her down and do so, even though that would be slightly stranger. He cleared his throat, still looking away. When did he get so awkward? Well, when was the last time his brain had been this befuddled because of a girl he didn't even know? Never, that's when. Not once.

NO. No, this was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be smooth, suave, especially around the opposite gender. He was good-looking (well, he thought so, and most people he knew agreed with him), not exactly sharp-tongued, but he was charming and persuasive, could get himself out of anything. He had talked to pretty girls before; one was a good friend of his. By no means shy, he could talk with just about anyone with no problem.

So what was the problem? The problem, it seemed, was this girl he had just fished out of the ocean, who he had invited to lunch, and now couldn't even bring himself to look at. His cheeks were still flaming red, he could feel it. He did not, did not want to look at her while they were like that. She still hadn't said anything, why wasn't she saying anything? Stupid stupid stupid!

You're getting angry, and that's never gotten you anywhere. And it really won't get you anywhere with this poor girl. You'd scare the hell out of her, saying something like that, and then berserking over being embarrassed. So, just chill. And so he did. Taking several deep breaths, his shoulders slackened, and his posture relaxed.

"You... You really think I'm beautiful?" He smiled. It wasn't the answer he had been expecting, not by a long shot; it was one of the ones he wanted. And he wanted to answer, yes, of course I do. I always mean what I say. But he couldn't, not until his face stopped prickling with heat. And he refused, absolutely refused, to speak to her while looking away, because he hated when people did that.

While he waited several seconds to cool off, she spoke again. "Maverick is a fitting name, I think as well. Handsome and strong, much like yourself." His name was handsome and strong? Or maybe the mental image was? It didn't matter, what mattered was that she tried to reciprocate. He squared his shoulders, lessened the smile on his face a bit to avoid looking creepy, and turned back to her, trying to seem like he had all the confidence in the world.

"Thank you, though I must say, that's the first time I've ever heard that one. And yes, I do think you're beautiful. I have a tendency to mean what I say." He made sure he kept his tone light-hearted; it was meant to be more joking than teasing. He cleared his throat, wanting to continue.

He wanted to keep her talking, get her to be comfortable around him. It might have just been his imagination, but he felt like her shyness was catching, and the best way he knew to get over being shy was to just keep talking, until you forgot all about it."So... you come down to the beach often?"

He heard her shift, and sigh softly. It was a very small noise, but one that got his attention. Had he disappointed her? Or was it a sigh of content. If he had disappointed her, he wanted to fix it, but didn't know what needed to be fixed. He wanted to open his eyes, see if she looked disappointed. Or if she looked happy.

But his looking at her seemed to make her stumble over her words -- unless that was something she did anyway -- and he didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable then being dragged out of the water had already made her. He had been there, once, he knew what it was like to have to be prevented from death in the water by one's own foolishness. It wasn't fun, to say the least.

His thoughts on the subject were cut short as she responded to his question. "It's a rather long story, but in short, The Hunger Games."

If he had had something in his mouth, it would have been spewed out. He sat up with a start, eyes flying open. This girl was a Career? Someone as small, as frail, as... he stopped himself, taking a deep breath. He had never much cared for the Games, but they had never effected him, so why worry? Clearly, this girl or her parents, thought that she needed to be in the Games. That was something he didn't approve of. Taking another deep breath, he gathered his thoughts on the subject to speak.

BUt what were his thoughts? Some relative or another of his, one of his great aunts, had been in a Game, one of the first. He remembered something about the girl making it to the final four, before being... what was it? Ahh, yes, stabbed though the eye with a spear. In fact, he had seen the clip replayed a few years back, when something similar had happened to another tribute. That was back when he watched the Games, when he cared about them.

Recently, though, he had begun to care a great deal less. Why worry? If he got picked, he would die. If he didn't get picked, well, that was good, right? Of course right. There was absolutely no reason to want to go into an arena with twenty three other children just for the potential glory of saying you had made sure the rest of them ended in a bloody death. What a fantastic claim to fame.

And yet again, he was thinking to much. It was only a few seconds, but she was going to start thinking there was something really wrong with him. After another second's thought, he decided to go with a safe, non-opinionated question. For now.

"I see. Well then. That's... interesting. Is it by your choice, or your parents'?"

He noticed that, again, she wouldn't look at him and speak while he was looking at her. She was playing with her hair -- and he appreciated just how nice that hair was, a chocolaty brown, and maybe just a bit too long -- forming it into a complex braid. He thought he had seen that pattern before, but where? His mother wore something like it to the Reaping every year, she said she had since she was a girl. He'd have to ask her about it when he got home, it might b worth something later. For now, though, she was going to say something, and--

"It... it isn't that simple... or interesting for that matter. It... it isn't interesting at all. It's t-terrible and stupid on my own part," That served only to bring him further into rapt attention, watching her braid her hair nearly absently, completely focused on what she was saying. How could being a Career be not that simple?

As she spoke, he couldn't help but wonder what that must be liked, to have parents that saw through you. Sure, his parents didn't do much to support the family, but they were at least there for him and his brother, to love them, to take care of them. Sure, he could see mourning the death of a daughter taken by the Games, but... to completely ignore your other children because of it? That wasn't right. Or fair. And he was almost glad he didn't know this girl better, because he might have found it... intolerable.

For her to go that far to feel loved, that proved her devotion to them beyond a doubt. She wasn't cold, or hard, or resigned, so she must still have some hope of them responding to her working so hard for them. She seemed... ashamed, almost, of it, though he couldn't imagine why. It wasn't as though it were her fault that despite being all her sister wasn't, her parents didn't-- Didn't what? Didn't love her? Surely such a notion was absurdity. They just must be incapable of paying attention. Because how could you not love your own child?

He was starting to get worried. She looked surprised to see him come back, did she not expect it? Did she not want it? Or did she just think so little of him; he, who had saved her friggin' life, given her lunch, and tried to get to know her? She was surprised. Well then.

He just hoped she'd answer well.

He saw her flush and smile and look away and just be so damn cute and small and shy, she reminded him of a kitten. He blinked, trying to slow down his thoughts. This and this and this and this was not an effective way to think, not for him, the most organized person he knew.

He idly wondered if anyone else had made her blush this much, had kept her in a state of perpetual surprise. He didn't think so, but then, anything's possible. A moment's pause for thought brought him to thinking that he didn't want anyone else to have made her like this. This, her, she was adorable, and he wanted to keep this, her, that smile, for himself.

Head out of the clouds, damnit. Get yourself together. Don't be stupid. Don't fuck this up, like you do every time.

Wait, what did she just say? He had been so busy fantasizing, he hadn't heard her. Well, he had, but he hadn't processed it. He closed his eyes for a moment, what the hell had she said? "Does it matter how long... how long I've been doing it? I don't think it really does. If I get picked, I'll survive and that is all that matters, but... but I think your right. It is about time I've found a life, after all I'm rather interested in getting to know you too."

He grinned. He couldn't stop himself at smiling, oh no, he was grinning like he was fresh from the asylum. He had stop, before she got weirded out, so he cleared his throat, turned his head to the side, and coughed, figuring that'd give him enough time to relax his face. All that lingered was a light smirk, one that he hoped looked cool, confident, and all the other things teenage boys liked to fancy they were.

He rolled his shoulders, like he always did before he said something any thought went into. "Yeah, it does matter how long you've been doing it. I don't mean to sound rude, but if you've been doing it for as long as it sounds like... you've gotten obsessive. And that's not healthy, so you should see if you can do anything else for them instead, and if you can't... there is such thing as a lost cause.

"But in the meantime... I'm glad you'd like to get to know me. Question is, what would you like to know? And, when are you available to get together? I mean, I'll have to head home soon, I promised my dad I'd be back in time to help him with that damn door, I just remembered. Still, I've time enough to actually talk with you."