((For Sammie))

Bo came in to get out of the rain. That was all.
But his mascara was running, his hair was soaked and matted to his head, his clothes were drenched, and he looked a mess. He didn't like it. Sighing, he flopped into the most ill-lit seat he coud find, making a wet, slapping sound. Ew, ew, ew! He didn't like it at all.
Sighing with drippy frustration, he removed his glasses, leaving them dangling listlessly between two fingers. The whole thing had been a slump-day for him; he hadn't even bothered to put on his contacts. Now the coffeeshop and the rain outside lapsed into a comfortably indistinct blur. Not comforting enough, apparently, because he closed his eyes to shut it out.
Even Bo has bad days.

Taryn hates the rain. She came to the Bean to study, and then the rain came up, and now she doesn't want to leave. Leaving involves going outside, in the rain, and getting soaked on her way home--even though she has an umbrella, not being quite so absent minded as to forget that on a day like this... Or at least, getting the legs of her jeans soaked.

It's funny; when it's raining, she's actually more sensitive to the cold than she is when it's snowing, or something. Odd, that.

She's wearing a sweatshirt--and still colder than she should be--the aforementioned jeans, and, surprise surprise, makeup. Just a bit of eyeshadow and some lipgloss, but she's actually wearing makeup. Her hair's up in a half ponytail, and she keeps gathering the loose bits in one hand and moving them out of her way.

It's a habit.

She glances up at the wet, slapping sound of someone coming in, and makes a sympathetic grimace. He (or she?) is too far away to make her nervous. So far.

"Nasty weather."

"Horrible."
As usual, no clues in the voice as to what gender he actually is.

Moping, moping. But she seemed so friendly (or maybe not, but does it matter?)...Bo roused himself, put his glasses back on and looked at Taryn.
Huh? Was this the girl Keye had met at the park? (He still kept an eye on things).
He'd find out soon enough.
"Hallo. What's your name?"

"Taryn."

No last name, nothing that he could use to identify her. This isn't entirely conscious, but she's not going to give out her whole name to someone she has no reason to trust--and who she isn't sure of, genderwise. He confuses her, a bit.

He would confuse her more, if she were closer and more able to tell things about him.

"You?"

Even speaking in monosyllables, her voice is fairly melodic. Rather a nice voice.

She didn't want to study anyway.

"Bo."
A white-toothed smile. He put his glasses back on, nevermind that the melty eye makeup was smearing the frameless lenses. He stood and walked over to her, his hips moving in a feminine manner. His feet were small, too. The only indication that he's a boy is that flat chest of his.

Maybe it's just a sense she has, or maybe it's that she doesn't really trust anyone, but Taryn drew back, almost imperceptibly, at his approach. He didn't seem like a man, but...

"Nice to meet you, Bo."

She has a possibly bad habit of pretending that nothing bothers her, and she does a depressingly good job at appearing to be completely normal and comfortable. The signs, though, are there, for someone who knows how to look.

Bo knows how to look.
(I would also note that it would be a lie if I said that he didn't get some smal pleasure from making people uncomfortable.)

"There is no need to be frightened, Taryn. I will not hurt you."
A pause, while he considered something.
"Unless you really, really wanted me to."

She frowned. How did he...?

She's decided that he's definitely male. And not gay, so he'll have to prove himself 'safe.'

"I don't know what you're talking about."

(You know what the disturbing thing is? For some reason that Taryn doesn't quite understand--and doesn't really want to analyze--the idea of someone hurting her has a strange kind of attraction. It confuses and frightens her, so she doesn't think about it much.)

"Most people don't like the idea, but there are those..." a shrug. "To each his own, I suppose, I always try to oblige."
Another shrug, and the smile turned playful, and slightly more normal.
"Not that it matters. I'm not here for sex, I'm here to say hallo. Hallo. How are you this fine day?"

She gave him a blank look. Bo, that is not the way to go about labeling yourself 'safe.'

"... you're weird. Go away."

Well, I never said she wasn't blunt on occasion.

(Really, the only reason she's this much disturbed is that he's so androgynous--she decided he was male so that she wouldn't be quite so confused as to how to react. She doesn't like the idea that she might be able to be attracted to a woman... because that brings a lot of bizarre questions to mind. Upsetting ones, too.)

"Yes, I'm weird."
He crouched, resting his chin on her table.
"Why should I go away?"
And then, "Does Keye scare you less?"

She doesn't answer any of his questions. Instead, she swings the book that she was studying at his head, glaring.

"Get away from me!"

The glare is to hide her sudden fear, and the attempt to dash his brains out is an attempt to hide the onset of trembling.

How the hell did he know about Keye!?

What Bo does next probably doesn't help. He ducks sideways, faster than it's possible to move, so that the book misses him completely. He doesn't look angry, though.
"That was uncalled for."

He's upsetting her. This is evidenced by a slight tremble in her lips and a glitter in her eyes that is not anger.

"Just go away and leave me alone, you freak." The words are angry, the tone is angry, the eyes are full of fear.

The only reason she isn't shivering, and not with a chill, is because she's stubbornly holding very, very still.

Well. That didn't end well.
He'd only been trying to be friendly.

He stood and returned to his own table, slumping defeatedly in his chair, staring dry-eyed at his knees.
Not that he doesn't want to cry.
It's been a long time since he messed up an encounter like that.

He's gone now. She relaxes--somewhat--and reopens the book, laying it in front of her... and then slumping over the text, obviously not reading.

So confused, and upset, and frightened. Probably the biggest misstep that Bo made was mentioning Keye--the rest of it she could maybe have dismissed as eccentricity...

A sigh.

She's looking at Bo under her arm, by the by. That way, she can watch him without him knowing that she's doing it. And now she feels bad for making him feel bad. She's soft hearted like that.

Sighing, he pulled himself out of his sulk. After all, it had been he who'd messed it up. He walked silently back over, tapping Taryn's shoulder lightly with one perfect fingernail.
"Miss? I apologize. Entschuldigung."

She flinched and looked up, a little startled. Well, maybe more than a little. Okay, a lot startled.

"Um. 's okay. Shouldn't be so jumpy."

Well, it isn't entirely okay, but it's better than it was before. And the fact that he came over here and apologized saved her the trouble of going over there and doing the same thing.

Although she wasn't entirely certain what she should have apologized for.

"You forgive me, then? I am too forward, sometimes. I must have startled you."
A faint 'look how cute and harmless I am' smile.
"May I sit down?"

"'Forward' is not quite the word I would have used," she muttered. "I guess."

Unspoken is 'Don't touch me, and don't do anything else freaky.'

She gestures to the chair across from her; she's not going to sit next to him, no matter how harmless he looks.

"It is not the right word? Oh dear."
He thought she was telling him that he had mistranslated. Mistranslation! Oh woe is Bo! What hideous internal rhyming!
"What is the right word?"

"Weird. Freaky. Stalker-esque." Yes, she made up that last one, in a way. I doubt you'd find it in a dictionary. "How did you know I knew Keye?"

He'd better be able to explain that to her satisfaction, because if he doesn't, she's going to be extremely wary of him and probably be upset. Again.

"Hn, Keye? Oh, I spoke to him, over the phone. He thinks I'm in Austria, and it would probably be very...upset if he found out I was here, for various reasons...but that doesn't mean I can't call and check up on him."
A very simple explanation. Partially true, too. He had talked to Keye on the phone, and Keye had told him about Taryn. The lying bit was that he'd known about it before he called.

"Uh huh." Slightly skeptical, but it is a plausible explanation. Doesn't mean she trusts him, though.

"What are you anyway?" She means genderwise. Non-human hasn't occurred to her yet, because she's still used to thinking that everyone around her must needs be human. Since they look human, and stuff.

And the question is to make sure that she isn't guessing wrong.

"I'm a boy."
Silently, he commends her for having the guts to ask. Most people don't.
"Despite all evidence to the contrary."

What can I say? Taryn doesn't always like to use tact, and often says what comes to her mind without thinking about it. She's capable of dancing around things that bother her, and often does, but... not now.

She isn't even sure she likes Bo, and she doesn't make concessions for people she doesn't like. Or something like that.

"Are you gay?" The bluntness continues, and that question is more to establish if he's safe than why he's so androgynous.

"Nope."
He doesn't have a problem with bluntness. It saves a lot of awkwardness later on.
"I'm what you might call...ehm...pansexual."

Pansexual? Aren't there only two?

... come to think of it, she doesn't really want to know the answer to that question. It could be... confusing. And possibly frightening.

And that means he's not 'safe.' Okay. Stay on the other side of the table, Bo.

"Oh."

"But..."
He wants to reassure her, he really does. He's an angel after all; that's part of what he thinks angels should do: reassure.
But he's also a demon, and he really can't hide the fact that he's a sexual creature.
"I am never interested unless the other is interested. Do you know what I mean? I am still getting used to English again."

"I know what you mean." Softly. Very, very softly. She also knows about the other end of the spectrum--the ones who are interested whether the other is or not. And perhaps... preferably not.

She still wants him to stay on the other side of the table.

(As far as Taryn's concerned, angels are actually supposed to be frightening, though no one ever portrays them as such. I mean, what do they always say when they show up in the Bible? "Fear not.")

One would assume that if the angels had to say 'fear not', there would be something for them to fear.
'Fear not' is a reassurance, anyway, and it's basically what he's trying to tell Taryn, even though he's not exactly the kind of angel she thinks of.

"Good. I want you to know it. I won't hurt you. You see? Here I sit on the other side. I will not even lean forward."

"If you do, I'll hit you, and then I'll leave." She's serious. Once he says something like that, he'd better hold to it, or else.

Okay. Change the subject, or at least get away from this facet of the conversation...

"And to answer your question, Keye doesn't scare me as much. 'Cause he's like me."

"Agreed."
He listened, considered what she said, and nodded slowly.
"I know I should be used to it by now, but it never ceases to shock me, the atrocities that humans inflict on one another."
He says it like he's not one of them.

Yes, he does. How bizarre.

"Aren't you?" Human, that would be. Taryn occasionally forgets to clarify things, when she's asking questions.

The strange thing is that she probably won't react too badly to the idea that he isn't human. Well... if he doesn't mention what he actually is.

He bit his lip. He only hoped she wouldn't ask him what he was.
"No. I'm not human."

"Oh." A small nod. "I know a guy who's fae."

Not terribly well, but she doesn't know anybody else who isn't human. Except for Wick, of course.

"What're you?"

Well, you knew it was coming.

That's right. I knew.

"I'm um...a..."
She's not going to like this.
"...sort of a mut. Half-and-half."
He's really only delaying the moment.

"Uh huh..."

A little wave of her hand. You know the kind, the sort of wave that says 'Go on. I haven't got all day.'

Although, technically, she has got all day, and all evening too. But she doesn't want to wait that long for a simple answer.

"My father was an angel. Not of the Biblical variety, of course, but an angel all the same. Wings, healing, a nice person...just what you'd like to see in an angel. My mother was a demon, a succubus."
Pleeease don't know what that means.

"... I really don't want to know how that mating occurred..."

She hasn't followed through on what that means for him, yet. She's stuck on the idea of an angel--wings and white and glowy--being, er, with a demon--all scary and slinky and stuff.

It's an odd mental image.