[Sophie taps you on the shoulder, sketchpad in one hand and a small object to be determined in the other. She's smiling slightly in an attempt to put the stranger at ease.]
[Yeah, he doesn't say, when he hears her 'Oh'. Just shrugs instead, a small, tense movement, because he's always tense, and why do you figure that is?]
No.
[He shakes his head, and then he looks away, because it's a "No, but," really.]
[She listens, though, crossing her arms as she does. Not in a challenge, she just feels cold. A sort of shiver, really. And she's always been... odd. Always been a bit separate from people. But that isn't the same as this. And the fact that he looks away-- that kind of says something else. Just a bit. But she won't push it. She'll let him have the lie.]
Why would they do that to you? I just... don't understand it.
[She'll ask a different question, instead. Because it's a beautiful day outside.]
[A sigh. He amends it for the tone, not the words he was going to use, because it's not her fault, and she doesn't mean harm by asking. Makes him sound deflated.]
I don't know.
[And he's not sure he wants to understand their reasoning either.]
[She understands why he'd snap, though. It must be frustrating. Still, she flounders for a second, trying to think of what to do. If there's anything at all. She wants to hug him, but they just met. Isn't that odd? Eventually, though, she does get an idea. And she smiles a bit, because of it. A different smile than the others.]
Hang on a second. I think I've got some tape in my backpack.
[She flips the backpack around to go digging through it. Beyond the colored pencils and odd bits of paper and calculator.]
[He blinks, momentarily surprised, but he waits. Hopes for tape and in the back of his head contemplates what he'll tell his father, where the cut came from that obviously wasn't a cut, not in that version of the story, and where the tape came from or rather who. Would that be a good idea to tell straight? Hard to say. Depends on how this goes.]
[It's just scotch tape. You know, the clear plastic kind? But that's not so bad, and it's better than nothing. She rummages for it successfully, all the same. For a second, Sophie thinks she'd fix up his backpack herself, but hesitates about it and just ends up passing the tape off to Koschei.]
[The nonchalant shrug is back. But she feels better for having helped, even a little. Even if it's just tape on a backpack.]
Ready to start walking again?
[It's always best to ask, after all. She's still putting her backpack back in some kind of order, but eventually she finishes up with that, the tape ending up in the front pocket.]
[Yes, but not everyone has the particular random things for those particular reasons.]
Oh, huh. I see.
[He doesn't have tape in his, because tearing pages doesn't really happen to him, but he does have bandaids. More books than he needs. Some things he doesn't remember putting in there.]
[Mostly notebooks for school. One sketchpad, smaller than you'd think. Graphing paper. Calculator. Colored pencils. Lots of pencils. A few pens. The tape, of course. Small pair of scissors. Spare change. Compass. Ruler, a very small one. Mostly used as a straight edge.]
[makes him wonder if that sort of thing happens to her often, helping out someone who's had their bag cut open, but it's a stupid thought and he discards it again as soon as he's thought of it.]
[No, not usually. Helps with putting up posters, though. And sometimes holding plugs up against a socket. And, okay, yeah, once or twice with torn important things.]
Probably not, no. But sometimes you have to see past 'meant to', I guess. There's more important stuff out there.
[And they're far away enough. He lets out a sigh, barely audible, and while the restlessness doesn't leave, most of the tension does. He adjusts one of the straps of his backpack, and there's the tapping again, almost like it's arbitrary as his fingers land on fabric. Onetwothreefour. Like he doesn't notice at all.]
[She keeps slowing down when she's thinking. It's odd to him, because thinking speeds him up, never slows him down, but it's alright. She at least does think, after all.]
Huh. [Again. Ugh, he's getting repetetive, isn't he? But he shrugs and tries not to care.]
Most people don't. [Statement or compliment? Could be either.]
[She has to slow down, because otherwise her thoughts float away completely.]
Most people can't see it at all. So, it's hard to pay attention to things you don't know are there.
[She's oversensitive to other's emotions, really. It's a feeling. An intuition. Perception. And trying to make sense of them just puts a caption over the thousand word image.]
[Koschei looks up as he walks, not at the sky exactly, just up. It'll look like an eyeroll later, when he knows more and makes connections faster, but not yet. This time it's him who needs a moment.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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No.
[He shakes his head, and then he looks away, because it's a "No, but," really.]
First time that's happened.
[Not the first time something happened.]
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Why would they do that to you? I just... don't understand it.
[She'll ask a different question, instead. Because it's a beautiful day outside.]
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[A sigh. He amends it for the tone, not the words he was going to use, because it's not her fault, and she doesn't mean harm by asking. Makes him sound deflated.]
I don't know.
[And he's not sure he wants to understand their reasoning either.]
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Hang on a second. I think I've got some tape in my backpack.
[She flips the backpack around to go digging through it. Beyond the colored pencils and odd bits of paper and calculator.]
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That'd be great!
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There you go.
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[It takes a minute to tape over the gap, from both sides to be safe
er ishand then he hands the tape back to her.]That should do it.
[Except it'll do a few other things besides, but let's not think on that. Not yet anyway.]
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[The nonchalant shrug is back. But she feels better for having helped, even a little. Even if it's just tape on a backpack.]
Ready to start walking again?
[It's always best to ask, after all. She's still putting her backpack back in some kind of order, but eventually she finishes up with that, the tape ending up in the front pocket.]
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[He straightens his backpack, still a bit wary but less so, and gets going.]
How come you carry tape, anyway?
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[That and she carries a pile of random things in her backpack to begin with. Doesn't everyone?]
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Oh, huh. I see.
[He doesn't have tape in his, because tearing pages doesn't really happen to him, but he does have bandaids. More books than he needs. Some things he doesn't remember putting in there.]
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[Mostly notebooks for school. One sketchpad, smaller than you'd think. Graphing paper. Calculator. Colored pencils. Lots of pencils. A few pens. The tape, of course. Small pair of scissors. Spare change. Compass. Ruler, a very small one. Mostly used as a straight edge.]
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[makes him wonder if that sort of thing happens to her often, helping out someone who's had their bag cut open, but it's a stupid thought and he discards it again as soon as he's thought of it.]
But I guess it's not really meant for that.
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[No, not usually. Helps with putting up posters, though. And sometimes holding plugs up against a socket. And, okay, yeah, once or twice with torn important things.]
Probably not, no. But sometimes you have to see past 'meant to', I guess. There's more important stuff out there.
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[And they're far away enough. He lets out a sigh, barely audible, and while the restlessness doesn't leave, most of the tension does. He adjusts one of the straps of his backpack, and there's the tapping again, almost like it's arbitrary as his fingers land on fabric. Onetwothreefour. Like he doesn't notice at all.]
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Feeling better?
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A little. Ah, does it show?
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You're good at noticing things like that. [A statement more than a question, because some of her earlier reactions fall into place.]
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Yeah, I guess. It's just something I've always done.
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Huh. [Again. Ugh, he's getting repetetive, isn't he? But he shrugs and tries not to care.]
Most people don't. [Statement or compliment? Could be either.]
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Most people can't see it at all. So, it's hard to pay attention to things you don't know are there.
[She's oversensitive to other's emotions, really. It's a feeling. An intuition. Perception. And trying to make sense of them just puts a caption over the thousand word image.]
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That makes sense.
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