The ocean up front(closed)

Maverick had come down to the beach today, like he did on all his days off (which seemed quite numerous as of late -- and he didn't think that was a good thing), to enjoy the seaside and maybe admire the people by it, namely the rather scantily-clad women. He didn't think that the habit was odd, not for a boy his age, but still fell slightly creepy for doing it. Even so, the feeling didn't stop him from coming down today to do just that.

He had gotten up that morning, as drenched in sweat as every morning for reasons he still couldn't name, showered and dressed quickly, and sprinted down to the beach. He was dressed, as usual, for nice weather -- half-open white button-up with a pair of slightly worn khaki shorts, and no footwear of any kind. Even the thought of shoes made his eyes squint shut and a shudder pass through him in detestment, his toes wiggling into the sand below them.

Opening his eyes again, he scanned the scene before him, as he had just a moment before: a beach relatively free of people, with only a small group of children here, a necking couple there, a girl -- an attractive girl -- coming up out of the water, in a bikini. That what you were hoping for, Mav? Of course it is. So, do something about it. Do what? He couldn't just stand there and watch her, it was well known to him that if you stare at someone long enough, they will always look back at you. So, just what did he propose to do?

While he though about it, he looked around again, this time less interested in the people than the day itself. It was a beautiful day, nearly cloudless sky, warm weather, and a light sea breeze. The gulls were enjoying it, as well, soaring above his head in a way that would be majestic if he didn't hate them so much. It was a fabulous day. And good things happened on great days, right? Of course right.

This particular thought struck him as... comforting. Inspiring. Challenging? Maybe. It even brought... confidence? Yes, quite. Not a shy person in any sense of the word, Maverick still didn't think of approaching random people for no reason. Not until just now, at least. That is the most scatterbrained thought process you have ever had, dunce. Get it together.Glancing back over at the girl, he decided that she looked like she needed some company. And who was he to be so un-manly as to deny her that. He smirked at his ridiculous line of thought, but went over anyway.

As he crossed the beach towards her, tanned feet sinking into the warm sand, he looked her and her ensemble over. Nothing fantastically extravagant, just a bag with a towel, it looked like, and she was in a none-too-complicated blue bikini, that showed off her body nicely. Before he could think too much of it though, he found himself beside her. Not wanting to seem imposing or worse, he sat down next to her, looking out at the ocean.

"Hey there, miss. Beautiful day, no?" Mmm, loquacious. Then again, what else could I have said? Nothing, really. Now, just pray she doesn't think you too odd.

The way she moved, head tilted just so, hands running through her hair... it was very distracting. He blinked, clearing his throat to get himself together. He tried not to stare at her, though it was increasingly difficult. He had been wrong, before; she wasn't just attractive, she was beautiful. And well-built, to boot.

"Yes, it sure is. I'm Cynthia Well." Cynthia Well. He hadn't heard the name before, but he wasn't to be soon to forget it, now. He smiled warmly at her. "A pleasure to meet you, Cynthia. I'm Maverick. You, ah... com here often?"

A pleasure to meet you? Maybe he could sound a little more stiff. And, 'Do you come here often?' What? Maybe he could be a bit worse at talking today. It wasn't like him. His shoulders tense at the self-degradation; he rolled them in an attempt to relax. She certainly didn't seem tense, in fact she had practically purred at him, so he couldn't be like that either. He cracked his neck, calming himself, as he waited for her to perhaps say something else.

“Maverick, that is a very handsome name,” He tried not to smirk. Not because it's funny, because it isn't, but because He'd heard that one before. Just once. From a very-- Dear gods, did she have to do that?

Maverick had dealt with women before, a lot of them. He had befriended a few, flirted with other, and even dated a couple of times. But not once had a woman's figure distracted him this much. Nor had any woman put such an effort -- or obvious lack thereof -- into distracting him with hers. It was new. And enjoyable. But he was 17, and he should keep his head on straight, and be cool, so he smirked and looked out towards the sea.

“Yes I do come here often, mostly to work on my body and just to relax. Do you come here very often or did something catch your eye?” Be cool, damnit. Do not, for the love of god, say you came down here just for her. It'll go straight to her head. Play cool. Not that you are. Instead, he traced idle outlines in the sand, formless and pointless, as he responded. "Just figured I'd come down to enjoy the natural beauty of the seaside." He glanced over at her and smirked.

“Yes the sea is quite beautiful, my parents always use to bring me out on their boat when I was younger. But now I get so lonely because they are usually working or at dinner parties. So what about you? What is your life like?” Hmm. Was she done flirting so soon? How disappointing. She had asked, though, about his life, so was she interested in learning about him? Or just making conversation? He didn't know, nor did he especially care.

"My life is... full. I spend most of my time either at school or at work, because neither of my parents can work. It's not so bad, though. It's nice to always know what you're going to do next, and not wonder about where you'll get your next meal." He saw her fingers drawing in the sand, and let his fall to the ground and do the same, quite near hers. Not close enough for physical contact, not yet, but certainly close enough for the proximity to be noteworthy.

She was moving closer to him. That was good, right? That meant that despite his quite un-suave speaking, she was... finding him tolerable. He settled on that, because he didn't want to get ahead of himself. Not with this practiced flirt he hardly knew. Instead, he simply continued on where he was, fingers drifting just a little closer every now and again.

“I see, my life is not really that. I was born rich and have many comforts, but believe me it can be annoying when you are surround by people who only want to be your friends because you are rich. But maybe one day you will be able to see how I live,” she had said. And then she winked at him

Well now, that was interesting. Was she suggesting that he only wanted to be her friend for that reason? He hadn't even known she was rich. The only people he knew that were rich were the dock masters, and they weren't as fabulously wealthy as even the poorest of the rich people in the higher districts. "I see. Well, that's... good for you, I suppose. And yeah, maybe I will have to come see how it is for you. I don't usually associate with the rich people, so that'd be something new for me to see. What do your parents do?"

“Well my mom she works alongside the mayor sometimes, for reasons she does not really tell us and my dad owns a big business chain. They don’t really talk about their jobs with me that much. So what about your parents, what do they do?" He tried not to laugh. His parents, do something? Not likely.

"My dad is a professional at-home newspaper reader, and my mother's occupation is worrying about my brother. I'm the one that actually does the work for my family. Which is why, though I enjoy them, I don't like having days off. Not when there's pay to be made." Well, now what was she to think? A pretty girl, from a family of influence, take interest in a guy whose family is a bunch of slouches? Not likey. Still, he smiled ruefully, and hoped for a decent response from her.[

“Yes, days off are very relaxing, sometimes you just need one to get calmed down after a stress week or day. Usually on my days off when I was young, I would stay with my grandma and she would teach me all different sorts of fishing hooks and how to weave.” Oh, so she wasn't just a spoiled rich kid. Well, that made it slightly better, he supposed, than her just being a useless rich brat. He had never actually met one of those before, but he knew already he wouldn't like the type.

“So the reaping is coming up, nervous you won't get picked?” Truthfully, he didn't especially care about the Reaping, or the Games. He didn't like that the girl he had met a day or so ago was training for them, but that was the extent of his emotional involvement with them. Still, he knew most of the rich folk liked the Games, so he had to pretend he gave a shit about them. "I wouldn't really mind getting picked, honestly. I'd probably die, but it'd be... an honor, representing the district.'

That had sounded fake even to him. Maybe she wouldn't notice?