Violet stood on tiptoes, leaning against the dusty shelves to reach a book perched far above her head. Her fingers tickled the spine a few times before she managed to pry it out, and bring it to eye level for a closer look. She couldn't be sure whether it was old, or just worn. It was a paperback, and had used to have a glossy cover. The pages were dog-eared and faintly yellowed, but the book couldn't be more than ten years old, at most.

Tucking her wiry frame into one of the dusty armchairs by the window, Violet bent over the book and flipped a few pages. "The BFG"? ... I remember this one! she thought, a smile lighting her face all the way to her dark eyes. She tucked a few loose strands of her damp brown hair behind her ear - she was all wet from the rain she'd walked through to get to Jacobson's, and the loose strands of her hair were sticking to her face. Her sweatshirt was clinging to her as well, and the cuffs of her jeans were cold and wet to match.

But she didn't notice, nor did she care. She'd already begun to be absorbed by the book. It was one she'd loved when she was eight or so, before she'd had to put all those silly kid's books of hers away in cardboard boxes.

All right, so Dave wasn't as stubbornly ignoring the ghost incident as he pretended to be. Ostensibly, he was here at Jacobson's to see if he could find some kind of a book on some of the older aspects of technical theatre, but really, he was wondering if there were any books about ghosts that weren't just silly stories...

No, no, bad Dave. We're going to look for a techie book now, we are...

Or not.

He ran across a couple books that looked like they might be promising--why was he doing this again? Ghosts weren't real. Rose wasn't real. He hadn't been cornered in the prop shop by a ghost-possessed kid intent on seducing him--and took them over to the armchairs. If he was going to skim them, he might as well do it in comfort.

The rain had intensified briefly as he darted into the store from his bike, and there were a few raindrops glittering in his hair like drops of dew. It was rather nice looking, actually, bright spots against a dark background. He could have looked quite poetic in his techie black, if he hadn't had a snub nose and a rather sheepish expression on his face.

He wasn't sure of the protocol for sitting down in a neighboring armchair, so he asked.

"Mind if I sit here?"

There was a painfully long pause before Violet actually registered that she'd been spoken to. Finally she looked up. She had on a somewhat startled expression, which grew even more startled because the guy reminded her so much of her English professor.
Whose class she had dropped out of because she would prefer to lose the credits than spend another minute in the presence of the conscience-impaired professor.

The 'deer-in-headlights' look passed when she realized that it wasn't him. "Um..." Violet said meekly, not wanting to meet his gaze. "...N... No, I don't mind at all. Go right ahead."

... wha?

Come on, he wasn't that scary. Okay, so he was a moderately tall, well built guy dressed all in black, but he had a nice face and he wasn't invading her personal space or anything like that.

He shrugged, though, and dropped into the chair with the grace of someone used to putting his body into odd positions, in order to reach things that were built without much consideration for the people who would have to maintain them.

"Thanks."

Friendly, girl, I'm friendly. I don't bite or anything.

Violet shrugged in reply, pretending to sink back into her book. Now, she wasn't the type who was rude enough that she would outright stare at someone she found interesting or unusual. That didn't stop her from glancing sideways at him every half-minute or so, taking in his appearance and trying to convince herself that she was just being paranoid, and seeing things that weren't there.

He looks nothing like Barclay, I'm imagining things. Nothing to be scared about, it's not like he was gonna come after me for quitting his class. Nothing to worry about. See, I'm just reading my book and everything is fine.

Never mind that she hadn't turned a page in a while.

And he had decided that there were way too many variations on the theory of ghosts. Because it seemed like every other sentence in these things contradicted the last one. Ah, dammit.

Dave is a pretty easy going guy, but even he gets nervous when someone keeps glancing at him like she expects him to turn into some kind of a monster and eat her, or something.

"... do I have something on my face or something?" he asked finally, when he'd glanced up from his book in frustration with its lack of coherency and noticed her looking at him too many times in a row.

"... no," Violet said nervously, her voice coming out sounding a bit squeaky. She hunched her shoulders, blushing and burying her nose in her book. She was going to try and force herself to read it, and not pay attention to the guy in the chair next to her.
She was now hoping he would leave soon.

The book made a muffled clapping sound as he flipped it shut, and he offered her a friendly, open smile. (Come on, kiddo, I'm not the big bad wolf. I'm not going to eat you, hit you, drag you off to rape you.)

"Hey, I was just wondering; I'm kinda absent minded. Thought I might have some grease on my face or something, from the lights."

"Oh." she said, looking up from her book and risking a faint smile. "Um. Well. You don't. Not that I can see."

And she turned back to her book. Violet was feeling particularly shy today, and a little embarrassed for having caught his attention in the first place. Inwardly, she was still reprimanding herself for having been caught looking at him.

Okay, now it was a challenge. Let's see if he can make the shy girl smile again. Maybe even get her to say more than three words at a time...

... okay, he's exaggerating her shyness. But she's still not talking very much.

"Whatcha reading?" When all else fails, ask a question. You usually get an answer, because people are raised to be polite.

She looked up again, and showed him the worn cover. Violet was always ready to talk about books,... even if it was a silly children's book that she should have outgrown by now. "It's 'The BFG', by Roald Dahl - BFG stands for Big Friendly Giant," she explained, with a timid, self-mocking grin, "It's a kid's book..., one of my favorites. I used to have a copy, ages ago."

He grinned. "Hey, nothin' wrong with reminiscin' an' stuff. Sounds like it's a cute book." Okay, yes, he's tempted to toss in a 'like you.' in there, but fortunately, sometimes he does indeed think before he speaks. The occasions are rare, but they do happen.

"It's... it's as cute as a book about human-eating giants can be," Violet said quietly, now with an earnest smile on her face. "Of course, since it's a kids' book, it all has to end happily. But I think that's what I liked about it the most... "
Violet looked at the illustration on the current page, and gave a soft giggle. She tipped the book so that he could see... well, if he wanted. She didn't want to annoy him with it.

He took a corner of the book and tugged it closer so he could see better. (Dave doesn't like to admit it, but he's supposed to wear glasses. They get in the way, most places, so he tends to leave them at home.)

"Fun." He's not really into children's books, for children's books, but he does sometimes look at the pictures.

For inspiration for set designs, of course.

Honestly.

"Mm-hm," she agreed. After she was fairly sure that he'd had time for a good look, she took her book back and curled up in the chair, trying to remember where she left off. She began riffling through the pages, frowning. It had been ages since she'd read it, but she practically knew it by heart, and that made it harder to remember at which point she'd stopped.

Aw, and he hadn't even gotten her name yet, and already she was ignoring him in favor of the book. Bother.

"By the way, I'm Dave. What's your name?"

Hey, I never said he wasn't persistant. (Also, he was sadly lacking in dates, lately. Maybe she'd be interested. And actually female. Which would definitely be a major plus.)

"It's Violet," she replied. She'd always thought it was a funny name, but at least it wasn't something like Gertrude or Enid. Or Helga. "... Nice to meet you, Dave."
She hesitated a moment, then reached out and offered to shake hands.

I can think of worse ones, actually. But that's beside the point.

He accepted her hand, grip firm but not domineering, hand warm and dry, with calloused palm and fingers--probably from working on the sets. Woodwork, you know--and he didn't try to hold on too long.

A bit longer than usual, maybe, but not too long.

"Nice to meetcha, Violet."

Violet gave a weak smile. Conversation wasn't her strong point, but unless she was going to ignore him, conversation was inevitable. So, she tucked her hair behind her ear (a nervous tic of hers) and tried to relax. "Um... so... Have you been here before?" she asked haltingly.

"Not too recently. I spend most of my time over at the Bay Street, tryin' to get things done. Don't have a lot of time to spend reading, which's kinda sad. I minored in English Lit, and got used to reading."

He likes books, but he also likes to go fast, flirt, and make enormous messes by building things. (Which means he's a pretty average guy, I suppose. Considering.)

"Yeah, that is pretty sad... maybe you should try and make more time for reading," Violet said. She spent nearly all her free time reading, or out walking... or both - which was surprisingly easy, if you weren't on a busy street. "Minor in English Lit, huh? I don't know what I'm going to be majoring in... if anything. I dropped out of my one English class this year."

"How come?" She looks like the kind of girl who would love English class, with her nose all buried in the book like that. "I'd've thought you'd be great at it." Which is probably a premature assumption, but Dave tends to make those, too. He isn't terribly tactful, it seems...

(A trait he shares with his distant cousin, but he's not malicious about it.)

"I don't know about great. I mean, I like it and all - okay, I like it a lot, ..." she squirmed uncomfortably, then admitted, "Try not to laugh at me? I ...dropped the class because I'm scared to death of the professor... When you came in here, for a second, I thought you were him. I'm that paranoid..."

She shook her head, making her ponytail swish against the back of her neck. It kept sticking, and she felt a few drops of rainwater come off her hair and roll down the back of her sweatshirt.

"You go to Keaton? What professor? Maybe I knew 'im." He wouldn't laugh. He's known a few professors who were scary as all hell, especially to girls. Ones like Dr. B, for instance...

Who's also the only professor he's ever in the world been mistaken for, which is rather odd.

He never did get that. He doesn't look that much like Barclay.

"Barclay," Violet said. She knew people besides her found him scary, but she had a perfectly good reason to be really scared of him. Not that she was going to tell Dave the reason why - he probably thought she was weird enough already, reading children's books about human-eating giants... She didn't need to tell him that one of her roommates was a seven-inch tall faery boy who pestered the hell out of everyone.

"Oh. Him." Funny how his inflection mimics the professor's when Barclay realized who Wick was. Only less 'scum of the earth' and more 'self-absorbed bastard.'

He shrugged. "Yeah, I can see why somebody'd be scared of him. Me, I just failed. Miserably."

A vague blush. "I'm pretty sure that was because he caught me imitating and making fun of him, though. Just didn't like me."

"Ha, that's just wonderful," Violet giggled appreciatively, "He's a creep and I never want to see him again. But,... I wouldn't mind seeing you imitate him. Bet it's funny. Will you?"

She looked at Dave hopefully, with a mischievous smirk that really belonged more to Wick than it did to her. Let's all hope that's Wick's bad behavior isn't rubbing off on her.

"Sure," he grinned, his own smirk a mirror of her own. He thought for a moment, then sat up very stiff and straight, folded his arms across his chest, and intoned, "'If I have to call you in here one more time, Tuckey, I'm going to have to speak to the Dean about you. Start behaving, or you will fail the class.'"

Apparenly, Dave has a good memory for lectures. Or maybe he just had so many that he has the basic format memorized.

Violet was a little spooked at how well he could imitate the professor. But then she started to laugh - well, really, it was a kind of muffled giggling. People were trying to read or something, so she figured she should try and keep it down.
Once she stopped, she grinned at Dave. "'S amazing, you sounded just like him!"

"Yeah, 've heard that. Just a talent. He caught me doing that once, and gave me this Look, like I was ripping up all those books he's got in his office. I bombed the next test so bad; I think he grades harder when he's in a bad mood."

Which is probably true. Or maybe Dave was overlooking the fact that he didn't want to devote as much time to Alexander's course as Alexander required. Or maybe it was a combination of the two.

Violet shrugged. "I don't know... But I bet that's what he did. He must have been so pissed off," she said, then snickered again. "I wouldn't be caught dead pulling that stunt within ten miles of him. Or twenty, for that matter..."

Oh, say it Violet. You wouldn't do it at all, you're too scared.

"Well, I've been told before that I'm crazy. Must be all the paint fumes." Only the paints that you use for sets aren't really that... fume-y. I mean, they smell, yes, but they aren't the same kind of fumes that mess with people.

I think.

He grinned. "Anyway, the look on his face was priceless. Shoulda had a camera."

"Aw. If only you had, then I could get a copy of the picture," Violet said, sliding back in her chair and letting her sneakers drag on the floor. "But then, I don't really want to have anything around that would remind me of him. In fact... would you mind terribly if we got off the subject?... Now?"

So, she hadn't been there when the actual "violence" had gone on. But she'd been scared of Barcay already, when she found out that he took other people's lives so lightly. After that, her list of fears looked something like:
1)The dark
2)Alexander Barclay
3)Alexander Barclay
etc.

"Wouldn't mind 't all." He shrugged. So she didn't want to talk about Barclay. He was hardly a romantic subject, anyway.

"You like theatre, Violet?" Change the subject before she can, and he can make it a lead in to asking her out, maybe. Or at least coming up with an excuse to see her again. (So far, she hasn't shown any signs of being a boy in disguise, which is definitely a plus.)

"Yep," she nodded, smiling in relief at the nice, Barclay-free subject he'd chosen. "I go every so often. Well, I used to. My parents made me go - and it was fun, so I kept going. I can't remember the names of half of the plays I've seen. I haven't been to anything here, though... Is anything particularly good playing right now? You would know, right? You mentioned you spent a lot of time at the theatre here."

Ah, Violet. Playing right into his hands.

"Well, that depends. D'you like A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum? That's the show we're doing right now." He grinned, proudly. "I run the lights." And he built the set, and helped design the sound...

Dave is a busy boy.

"I haven't ever seen that one before," Violet shook her head, grinning sheepishly, "...Is it fun? The lights, I mean. I always thought it'd be neat to get to mess around with those things..."

((bleh. Teh shortness ))

"It's fun when I'm not the only one doing it," he admits. There's a bit of bitterness in there, though, because the other techs tend to have the flimsiest excuses... Stupid idiots.

"Sometimes I have to grab random people and make them help me so I can get it all done in time."

Like Keye, and Zeke.

.... whoops, let's not think about those two.

"Would I be able to? ... I mean, is it complicated at all? 'Cause I could help, if you'd show me what needs doing," Violet said hopefully. She had always wondered what went on behind the scenes - how it worked, what made it all fit together. It was part of the magic of the theatre that she felt she missed out on.

"Well, the grunt work isn't complicated. Hand me that, stand there, hold this, mostly. It's the programming that gets complicated." Old days, there were four to six dimmers. And that's it.

Nowadays... There are literally thousands of combinations possible, thanks to computers.

No wonder you have to take courses in it.