"You know, you should probably head back to the dorm and do homework."

Yes, the tall, mostly graceful brunette wandering through the mall was talking to herself. (I say mostly graceful because every so often, she stumbled over nothing in particular, except perhaps her own feet. The rest of the time she swayed like the dancer she was.)

No, she wasn't crazy. Or at least, she wasn't any crazier than the rest of the nineteen year old girls in the city. There's always a sort of insanity that comes with the age and the being away from home for the first time, and all of that sort of thing. But no voices, or any of the other hallmarks of mental illness.

She doesn't look much different from the rest of the teenagers walking the mall. Jeans. Sweatshirt. Ponytail.

Ordinary.

"Hey! Hey, Taryn!"

The shout comes from behind her, from-- well, let's call it a familiar voice.

Jay, unlike Taryn, lives for being out of the ordinary. He seems to have taken the idea of using her share of notice seriously, and is dressed in a snug ringer tee-shirt with the cute image of a rainbow and happy clouds plastered tight across his chest. The neckline and sleeve edges are pink. So it his hair-- it's slicked down today, styled in "emo" bangs across his face, showing off the pink in contrast to his blue eyes. He's wearing mascara. His pants are one of his favourite pairs-- a worn pair of jeans that fit snug to him, covered in pen and marker writing. Signatures, poems, song lyrics-- whatever. His shoes are the pink and white light up ones, and they blink as he walks towards Taryn, waving a friendly hand.

Her eyes widen slightly before she recognizes the voice and relaxes, turning with a slightly embarrassed smile on her face. Slightly embarrassed because she never did call him (and in fact has lost the bit of paper with his number on it.)

"Hi, Jay..."

She takes in his outfit with a certain expression of amused interest. The shoes remind her of a pair that one of her little sisters has. Funny. They don't look exactly little girly, though.

They look like Jay.

"Hey, doll, you didn't call! How've you been?"

He comes to rest beside her, one hand on his hip. His Crest Whitestrips smile flashes brightly.

"Oh, er... Sorry..." There's a faint tinge of a blush on her cheeks, and she shrugs.

"I've been all right. You?"

Ever notice that 'all right' never seems to mean anything at all?

"Oh, schoolwork, a few hangovers, you know, the usual. Whatcha up to?"

Other than, you know, shopping. Since this is a mall and all.

"Taking a break from homework. And from blah white walls."

Whoever designed college dorm rooms really didn't have much of a sense of taste. Or sense of anything.

"Great! Let's grab a drink."

He jerks his head in the general direction of... well, of the parking lot, where he has his car prepped for going off somehwere.

"Er... okay..."

It must here be mentioned that Taryn, not being the most social of people and having a church girl background, has never had more alcohol than a few sips of wine at a wedding almost a year ago.

This should be interesting.

He starts walking as soon as she says okay, in his usual long-legged, hip-heavy strides.

"Great, I know this great little place, right nearby, the Keg, you'll love it."

She follows him, jogging to catch up, and manages a "I'm sure I will."

The Keg? Er... what exactly is she going to drink?

Let's hope he's got good recommendations.

He shoves the doors open, not holding them but rather assuming she'll slip out before the manage to close. He shivers as the cold air hits-- he'd left his jacket in the car-- but pulls his keys out of his pocket anyway.

Well, he never claimed to be a gentleman. And fortunately for Taryn, she did manage to dart out through them before they closed on her face. She decided that her sweatshirt wasn't warm enough for this weather, but she didn't have another coat with her. It was back at the dorm.

He clicks the car keys, and out in the lot somewhere, a car beep-beeps as it unlocks.

A oment of further walking reveals his car to be an absurdly normal little coup.

"How come it's not painted some outrageous color?"

It doesn't match.

Still, Taryn's envious. She doesn't have a car at all.

"Because I bought ig cheap, it's fuel efficient, and I don't want to spend the cash on paitning it."

He opens his door and climbs in.

"You get shotgun."

She grinned, opening the other door and sliding into the front seat.

"I'd planned on it."

Nice. No wind and the heat'll be on soon, yes?

The car rumbles into life and, along with it, the heaters. Jay relaxes into the seat and backs out of shi sapot.

"Just a quick jaunt."

"Where are we going again? Some bar, right?"

She mentally debates telling him about her lack of experience with alcohol. Wonder if he'd laugh.

"Some bar? Some bar? Madame, we are going to the Keg, the most disreputable dive this side of Vegas." Looking quickly to his left, as if afraid of being watched, he leans over and says behind his hand, "Not really, but dson't tell anyone I said so."

Watch the road, bud.

"Oh." Now, why did she not find that comforting at all?

Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that she doesn't make it a habit to go to bars where there might be scary men. Or maybe it was just the 'most disreputable dive this side of Las Vegas' bit.

Either way.

Did I mention that this was going to be interesting?

The fae, always easily distracted, turns his fickle attention back to the roads. Oou, snow.

He punches the radio, and it flares into life in the middle of "I will survive."

Oh, she hates this song.

Nevertheless, it's one of those songs that you just can't not sing along with, and so she does. Quietly, under her breath.

She isn't half-bad.

After a few lines, Jay picks it up-- belting out the lyrics with all the attitude of the singer. He even does the head thing.

He obviously loves this song.

Either that, or he's just Jay/

And I'm not even going to attempt to figure out which it is.

Taryn looks pained and eager for the ride to be over.

Or at least the song. Please let the song be over soon.

The song is over.

To be replaced by "staying alive." Jay also knows the lyrics.

Don't worry, Taryn, the bar is close.

This song brings to mind, strangely enough, images of Boromir disco-dancing.

Don't ask. I blame it on her brief affair with a Lord of the Rings website peopled with slightly crazy inhabitants.

Drive a little faster, can't you, Jay?

He takes a left and, thankfully, pulls into a parking lot. The radio goes off as he turns off the ignition.

He continues to hum under his breath, the sound broken only as he announces, "We're here."

"Obviously."

So, what's this famous Keg look like? Taryn opens her door and steps out, leaning against the car and taking in the sight.

Yippee.

Well, it's a building. Kinda grey. Has a neon sign out front, unlit. There's a patio, abandoned during these winter months. It's not the pit of depravity our boy Jay implied, but then, it's not like he's known for understatement.

Jay strides up to the door, taking it for granted that she'll follow him.

Well, where else is she going to go, after all?

Stepping inside, for her, is an act of raw courage. You never know what kind of horrible people will be hanging about in bars.

She withdraws inside herself, much as she was when the two of them first met.

He isn't going to choose a secluded booth, by any chance, is he?

Jay? Secluded?

He chooses a table against a wall, true, but it commands a good view of the uncrowded and is in turn fully visible to the rest of the bar. If anyone was expecting it to be a gay bar, it's not. (Taryn would have had to endure more singing to reach one of those.) It's just a student bar, not too far from the mall, currently occupied by casual groups or hard drinkers. The music is current rock and roll.

Jay flings himself into a seat and smiles at his companion.

"What'll it be?"

"Um."

Now, how to put this without sounding like a total... I don't like the word 'loser,' people use it far too much.

"I've kinda... never gone out drinking before."

An apologetic smile and helpless shrug.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry-- I didn't know you were a virgin!"

Okay, he said that embarrassingly loud.

"We'll have to get your roaring drunk. I'll pay. What would you like?"

Well, she's that too. Sorta.

Never had a boyfriend, 'member?

And the idea of getting 'roaring drunk' is terrifying. But...

"I dunno. What kind of stuff is good?"

"Well, a lot of people like beer, but honestly, it's disgusting. Hard, sweet drinks are fun. Coolers, too. You should try a hard lemonade."

"I'll take your word for it. So... a hard lemonade, then, I guess."

The idea is a bit slow to come across, though. How do you make a lemonade hard? Freeze it?

Taryn is going to get a good deal of education, just from being around Jay, methinks.

"Too bad this place doesn't serve absinthe-- one shot and boom, you'd be gone." Jay holds the record among his human friends for shots of absinthe and still standing-- the fae metabolism deals with alcohol a bit better.

However, one shot of the stuff's been known to knock out humans, even ones not lightweights.

He stands and, with a quick "I'll be right back," heads over to the bar.

Eep. He left her all alone.

Hurry back, Jay, or Taryn just might disappear into the framework of her chair.

This is a scary, new place and Taryn isn't sure that she likes it.

Don't worry, he's back in a flash, wallet lighter and hands full of hard lemonade.

Two bottles, clear. The lemonade looks liquid enough. The 'hard' part refers to the vodka.

He slides back into his seat and hands Taryn one of the drinks.