"And being so mere it's expected that we should know so little," Maeve countered though she wasn't entirely sure where it had come from. Deciding not to ponder on it, she took a lick of her ice cream, trying to discreetly stare and study Andrei's strange eye, but had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't doing very well to conceal her intrigue.

"I don't know really, I just turned around right after I walked into the mall earlier because I... Thought I dropped something... And you were gone, like poof gone! Yeah, so, I don't know," Maeve replied quickly, wondering why her brain was working so fast all of a sudden, she never used to be good under pressure. Then there was that cold sweat issue.

"I haven't."

For your comfort and convenience, you will not smoke inside the mall.

They made it sound like it was a priviledge of some kind to be stuck out here freezing, trying to drag a few smokes from his cigarette before the wind whipped it away.

The young man cups his thin hands around the cig wedged between two fingers and glares at the sign on the doors. The arctic wind tosses frozen bits of icy snow around like tiny ninja blades, cutting into warm flesh. His bargain-basement grey winter jacket doesn't do much to cut the cold. His thin legs are encased in worn grey-blue jeans which don't provide a whole lot of warmth, either. His darkish hair is blown this way and that, into his eyes and out again.

Most of the mall's patrons hurry into the warmth and protection behind the doors. the people coming out brave the wind only until they get to their cosy little cars.

"Fuck." This is no weather to be a smoker.

Apparently the sour young man hadn't taken into consideration that the non-smoking rule was for the comfort of the majority. Unfortunately, smokers were the minority and therefore the general public who didn't smoke came first. Oh, how inconvenient.

Maeve appreciated the rule more than most, especially after living in close quarters with two chain smokers and an old man who enjoyed a cigar more often than necessary. It was a wonder she still hadn't acquired some form of cancer from all that second hand smoke she was literally forced to inhale. She wasn't really bitter about it though, one could say she lacked the ability to be bitter about something like that. It was an addiction, like her attraction to printed media and shoes; it just couldn't be helped.

The cold winter forced her to fish out her winter wear, including a very unpractical pair of black, suede boots with a heel that was quite the opposite of being modest. Sure it was risky walking in skinny heels in the snow, who knew when you would find some hidden ice and fall on your face, but this was the only risk Maeve Sullivan was willing to take. For the record, she had reprimanded herself plenty of times as to how pathetic that actually was.

Arriving at the mall by Volkswagen Beetle was also a little bit riske since she still hadn't had the chance to get her winter tires, but at the speed she usually drove she knew it wouldn't be that big of a problem. Maeve parked her car as close as she could to the entrance by her favourite shoe store and stepped out of it into the biting wind. She could barely keep her eyes open as she trudged carefully toward the mall entrance, wondering vaguely what time it was since she had decided to sleep in.

Maeve pushed back her jacket sleeve to find that she had forgotten to put on her watch. A groan pushed past her lips and that was when she spotted the lanky young man with the cigarette grumbling by the entrance. Not really wishing to bother him, but not thinking that there may be a clock inside the mall she could look at, she approached him cautiously.

"Um, hey, you wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?" She asked slowly, a sheepish smile sneaking onto her face.

A curl of grey-blue smoke seeps up from his cupped hands, only to be snatched away by the wind. He spins, glancing down at Maeve.

He has one normal, hazel eye and one white one, just below a streak of white in his hair. It gives him a slightly lopsided look. The scowl doesn't help.

"Yeah yeah, hang on..." The cigarette is transferred to his right hand and he jerks his wrist out of his sleeve, frowning at the watch face.

"One twenty."

Maeve covered her mouth with her fist and gave a small cough as some of his cigarette smoke blew in her general direction. Ugh, she truly hated the smell of it. What was so appealing about smoking anyway? With a tiny frown, which she tried to rid herself of for fear of appearing rude, she nodded and brushed some of her long, brown hair out of her face.

"Thanks," she murmured, wondering how much she could get done in two hours before having to return to the Keaton U library. Walking past Andrei, one of her heels dug a little too deep into the layer of snow that the shovels had shoved back onto the walkway and in an attempt to take another step forward, she tripped and landed on her knees in the snow.

Maeve cursed herself for wearing skirts all the time as she tried to pull herself up, blushing madly out of irritation and embarrassment. There goes another pair of tights.

The smoker's boots move back a bit as Maeve falls, so as not to be caught in the tumble. Ash drops off the end of his cigarette and is caugh up by the wind, too.

He bends down a bit and offers her a thin hand, wordlessly.

Glancing up, her gray eyes registered surprise as she reached with her own gloved hand to pull herself back up with his help. Discreetly pushing up her scarf to hide the pink tinge in her cheeks, Maeve chanced a glance down at her knees and frowned at the large run in the tights that had begun to spread from the center of her left knee up her thigh, disappearing under the coorduroy skirt she had chosen to wear that day.

"Thanks again, uh... Yeah, I do that a lot," Maeve informed, not exactly sure why she decided to add the last bit.

He'd been taking a darg fo the cigarette as he helped her up. Now, he takes it out of his mouth. the wind blows the smoke away as he speaks.

"You ought to wear more practical boots in this weather."

It's said in a flat tone-- an observation, no emotion on the line.

"I can't help it, I have a thing for boots," Maeve remarked, continuously brushing the snow off of herself. "At least my addiction doesn't force me to stand around outside in the cold," she added under her breath. Maybe it was the cigarette smoke or the dreary weather, but she really was feeling a little more uptight than usual.

He brings the cigarette to his lips again, watching her. inhales, breathes out. Speaks.

"No, it causes you to fall down outside in the cold." A smile flutters over his lips, into his eyes.

Maeve grumbled something else, something perhaps a little less polite and something more inaudible. Smokers, always had to be bitter.

"Well it sure beats lung cancer."

"Does it?" he asks, taking another drag and then flicking the finished cigarette into the ash tray. The wind catches it, and for a moment it seems as though it's going to be blown away, before it drops gracefully down into the sand and snow and trash inside the ashtray.

"Get back to me on that when I have lung cancer." He's actually smiling, now-- mocking himself as much as he's mocking her. Mocking life as much as either.

Maeve bit the inside of her cheek to keep from spitting back some sort of comeback. She wasn't good at that and didn't really feel like making herself look like more of a jerk. After all, she had already fallen on her face once that day, she didn't need anymore cause of embarrassment. Rolling her eyes, the brunette ignored his mocking grin and turned back toward the entrance. She had already wasted some of her precious boot-oggling time.

"Sure, whatever," Maeve grumbled dimissively as she reached for the cool metal handle of the mall entrance and pulled it open with a little bit more effort than she really wanted to show.

A hand catches the door as she opens it, and the smoker follows her in, brushing some of the hard, tiny snowflakes off of his shoulders.

"Whatever," he agrees.

((End it? I'm not sure he'd bother to follow her for more chat.))

((We don't have to end it... I mean, it's pretty useless if we do, don't you think? Unless you want to end it, in which case Maevie will be sad and all alone again in the unused character limbo...))

Maeve gave a sigh as she started off in the general direction of one of the trendy stores she visited most often, but not before she took a glance back to find the bitter young man head off in the other direction. See, being as observant as she was, she had noticed his strange eye colour as well as the fact that only one of his eyes stood out to be strange. She would have said something too, had she been a little less irritated and a little less aware of good manners.

While she was thinking about it, her feet appeared to have acquired a mind of their own of sorts and she was already strolling comfortably in his wake, making sure to keep a safe distance. What, now I'm a stalker?

((I just wasn't sure how to make it continue. This is good. ^^))

The skinny kid stalks through the mall, watching the people around him warily. He avoids crowded areas with practiced ease, using his size to his advantage as he slips amongst the other shoppers. He leaves everyone a good deal of personal space as he walks, and avoids making contact with anyone as though they'd give him some horrible disease were he to even brush past them.

He passes several stores, slowing briefly only in front of a the knife store, an electronic boutique and a confectionary. He seems to be heading for the food court, but the mall is a maze of corridors and shops and any final desination's about as easy to guess as where a snowflake will land from a thousand feet up.

((Maeve's still in action! Yeehaw! :D))

Maeve kept up with him pretty well considering her feet were starting to hurt a little bit. That was the problem with the current fashion in shoes; pointed toes were in and did a number squishing ones toes together. She slowed when he did and concealed herself by appearing interested in some of the other store windows that lined the length of the mall.

When he started started walking again, she waited a second or two before heading off after him again. So far, nothing too out of the ordinary had come to pass and she had a feeling this was getting to the point of being absolutely rediculous. She decided to speed up a bit, as much as it killed her feet, she had a feeling that she could still get away with following even if the distance was a little shorter than before. He didn't seem to care about the surrounding shoppers, so she figured her chances at not getting caught were pretty good.

Sure enough, the food court opns up in front of them-- the nicotine addict and his stalker. The ceiling is higher in this area, but it just serves to bounces the noise more, distorting the voices of the crowd below.

His distaste for this packed area is evident in the way he slows as he reaches it. he prowls through the tables, staring at the various places to eat. eventually, he chooses the one with the shortest line.

His stance territorial, he stands in line, waiting for his turn to eat.

"Rats in a fucking cage," he mutters. The young mother in front of him turns around the glare briefly.

By the time he got in line, she just couldn't take it anymore. Maeve found a table which had just been vacated by two eldery women wearing extraordinarily large and colourful hats. Those must be illegal in movie theatres, she thought with a small grin, perhaps her first sincere show of contentment that day. Or the closest thing to it.

Taking a seat where she could keep an eye on the smoker, Maeve reached down to unzip her boots, pulling her toes further away from the pointed ends so that they could breathe. So to speak. Maeve sighed and leaned back in the chair, taking a quick glance around the busy food court. She would have bought something to nosh on for herself, but she had had a late brunch already maybe half an hour before coming to the mall. The mixture of smells was quite appealing though, despite its strangeness. Chinese and tzatziki, hot dogs and crepes. A strange mix, but delicious all the same.

((Mmmmm. Greek food.))

It takes only a minute or two for the tall, thin nicotine-addict to move up to the front of the line, though surely it must have seemed longer to him. He orders a chicken souvlaki with onions, tomatoes, lettuce and extra tzatziki and a coke, pays, then spins around and searches for an empty table in the crowded food court.

There isn't one.

There is, however, a table with a shoeless Maeve at it, which seems to be the least threatening option. He makes his way over, doding an overfull shopping bag and a colourful kiddie cart.

The tray of food slide onto the tabletop even as he asks, "Can I sit here?"

More for formality's sake, really. He fully intends to sit, even if she dsays no.

Maeve's head shot up quickly as if she had just gotten a nice square uppercut up through the chin. The voice was familiar, but she wasn't planning on encountering Mr. Bitter Nicotine Fix, she was just keen on following. That nervous feeling one usually gets when asked to answer a question in class that they should know the answer to, but don't shot up Maeve's spine as she continued to stare rather openly.

Her eyes followed his arms to the tray upon which sat the scrumptious looking souvlaki and then moved back up again. Busted? She thought, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. Obviously, stalking wasn't something she did a lot.

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, she just nodded her head, discovering that her mouth had dried up considerably for one reason or another. Maeve bit the inside of her cheek, wondering when she'd start to break out into a cold sweat.

The young man sits and takes an enormous bite out of his warm souvlaki, chewing and swallowing this before saying anything at all to Maeve. In fact, before even looking at her.

"The mall's too fucking crowded this time of year," he says, by way of explanation for his intrusion. Not that he needs to eplxain. No. He's just saying.

"Yeah, well, after Christmas, you know how it is," Maeve stated, wondering why she was even attempting to be conversational. Her feet had stopped throbbing now and she was seriously considering putting her boots back on and making a run for another floor. Well, maybe not run, but walk off speedily. The young man was obviously not very keen on company of any kind. Besides, she felt bad now that she had been stalking him.

"Yeah, but hey... a guy's gotta shop." He grins at the general irony of the statement and takes another bite from his souvlaki.

Not exactly antisocial, this one. Just not really a 'warm-hearted soul.'

Maeve gave a bit of a smirk at the remark. She hadn't expected that.

"Right, especially during Boxing week, you move fast though, doesn't really look like you shop much," and as soon as the words fell from her lips, Maeve realized the mistake she had just made. How could she cover that up? It was unlikely that she would think up something fast enough, but maybe he wouldn't notice. Though the slight widening of her eyes was pretty visible, she had taken off her scarf upon entering the mall a while ago.

He pauses in the middle of sipping his drink through the straw and raises one long eyebrow at Maeve.

Setting the drink down, he repeats, "I don't look like a shop much?"

Maeve's lips twitched upward into a nervous looking smile. That was way too close!

"No, not really, not like that makes much of a difference, or means anything for that matter," Maeve stated, shrugging.

Closer than she'd thought.

"And when have you seen me shop-- or not shop, as the case might be?" he might not be saying it, but he's still hanging on the 'you move way too fast.'

One hand's still gripping the coke cup. He's not smiling, but then, he doesn't really smile much.

Still watching her with his lop-sided eyes, he picks up his souvlaki and takes another bite.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he says, around the seasoned chicken and pita and veggies.

Lovely table manners.

Maeve almost winced as he spoke with his mouth open. Something else she just couldn't stand alongside smoking. Reaching down, she slipped her boots back on and zipped them both up with little difficulty.

"Yeah, well, methinks the lady hath overstayed her welcome."

He swallows and rubs his mouth with the back of his wrist.

"It ain't my world, so you overstay your welcome when you think you have," he says, reaching for the drink.

Maeve narrowed her eyes and gave Andrei a hard stare, pointing her finger as if she were about to accuse or scold him of something. Had she known she resembled a lot like her mother at that moment she probably would have curled up into a little ball and start sobbing.

"You really--Actually never mind," Maeve said finally, rising from her seat though she hesitated before walking away. "It was... Well, it was something," she added with a slow nod. This time she didn't bother hesitating, nor did she bother questioning about his curiously coloured eyes, nor did she decide to confess that she had been following him.

Instead she walked. After all, she still hadn't made it to her favourite trendy shoe store and she had even less time than she had started with. Obviously. Too bad her feet were still a little sore though, she might have been able to avoid tripping into a little girl who dropped her lollipop and had suddenly burst into tears had she stayed at the table a little longer.

"You were right when you said you did that a lot."

It only takes the long-legged Andrei a few steps to be close enough to offer Maeve a hand up. he carefully avoids the bawling child, like it might bite. Natural reaction for a guy his age, really.

Maeve pushed the curtain of wavy hair that had fallen in front of her face and she gave Andrei's hand a skeptical stare before deciding to take it. Like she actually thought she could get up on her own? Ha, what a laugh.

Getting up from the ground, again, Maeve gave a bit of an exasperated sigh. She wondered for a brief moment why he'd decided to help her up the second, but dismissed the curiosity. Even though she hadn't pegged him as the 'good-samaritan' type, she figured everyone had their moments.

"No point in lying about it I guess, thanks though... Uh, again," she said, giving a small, slightly sheepish sort of grin. The run in her tights had grown longer and was now just beginning to creep into her left boot. She had almost completely forgotten about that too. "I feel like I owe you now."

"yeah?" he says. "Buy me an ice-cream, then, and we'll call it even."

Ah, ever the student... hungry and a willing mooch.

"Fine, but you're coming along to get it," Maeve told him with a grin. She then decided that now was as good a time as any to ask him his name. Why not, she was buying him ice cream, after all.

"Um, I'm Maeve by the way."

Oh, well, close enough to asking.

"Andrei Petrov," the nicotine-addict says, in response, then jerks his thumb towards the other end of the food court.

"C'mon, ice cream's this way." As though she needed to tell him he was coming along.

"Oh yeah... Right," murmured Maeve, looking further down where Andrei pointed. She figured she'd by herself some while she was at it. Starting forward, she walked slowly, as if afraid she might make another nose dive. Third time's a charm. She nearly shuddered just thinking about it.

"Favourite flavour?"

"Chocolate," he says, as he melts through the crowd. He moves the same as he had before, giving everyone a wide berth as much as he can help it.

When he does get bumped into by a careless shopper, it's pretty obvious.

"Fuck, watch where you're going."