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Log Title: Be My Girl

Log setting: The playground, afternoon.

Log Cast:
Catherine
Trace

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Catherine comes walking slowly up along the pathway leading over towards the playground, a slightly absentminded look in her eyes. She looks at the trees full of fruit, still every time she walks in here it keeps amazing her, but then she turns her attention to the swings, not too far off.

Trace is swinging there already, going full tilt. Maybe he's trying to touch the sky with his toes, or reach that goal every kid's had at least once, trying to be the first one to go in a full loop around the swingset. His dreds move in time to the motion, thick blue ropes sweeping forward and back over his bony shoulders.

Catherine looks up at the one swing still going wildly, and she smiles brightly when she spots Trace. She walks right on up to the swings, though stops just short of the aparatus, letting Trace first calm down a bit before she gets into range of the swing. She calls out, "Hi Trace!", hoping she'll get noticed over the noise of the chains.

Trace isn't so involved in his swinging that he can't hear Catherine's call. It's not something that takes a lot of thought. So he glances down, and upon seeing Catherine, tries to bring himself to a halt. His toes can touch the sky another day. Black sneakers drag against the ground to slow himself, kicking up waves of sand. Finally after about three more attempts he's been stilled and now just sits on the swing, grinning. "Hey. What's going on, Cathy?" His hands were wrapped about the thick chains, but now he lets them hang free.

Catherine takes a step back as Trace starts to brake, and waves a hand in front of her face, as if she were trying to wave away the dustcloud that is being kicked up, though that doesn't nearly reach her. She giggles, and says, after a fake cough, "Hmm, I don't really know.. I saw someone swinging earlier, but I think it's all calm in the park now. How are you doing?"

"M'good," Trace admits with a smile, and offers the swing next to him, one hand reaching out to wriggle the chain in indication. "Got me a breakfast 'a some Burger King french toast sticks and hash browns this mornin'... So who was swingin' here earlier?"

Catherine giggles and sticks her tongue out, "Not that much earlier.. I think about.. half a minute ago." She tilts her head slightly as she regards him, then grins, and says, "Ohh, I got myself breakfast as well.. Someone made me a hard boiled egg... I guess the eastern bunny left it."

"Oh," Trace says with a laugh. "Yeah, that crazy swingin' fool? I hadda shoo him off." Your second comment makes him grin cleverly, and his hands curl around the chains of the swing again. "Ya ate it, huh? Yeah... I hadda help out the Easter Bunny some this year. He was way over-worked, y'know? Tole' him he needed t'take it easy." His eyes dance with amusement.

Catherine nods quickly and says with a smile, "Yeah, I couldn't let it go bad, that would have been a pity. But I managed to cut the shell in half without breaking it, and ate out the egg from both halfs." She grins as she leans over a little, to look you in the eyes, and says softly, "So, you were the Easter Bunny's little helper this year? I had some suspicion because of the subject... Thanks.."

"Yer welcome," Trace says softly, glancing down briefly and then looking up with a light blush starting to show on his pale cheeks. "I hoped ya'd like it." He smiles a little more and adds, "I got a set of enamel paints and I wasn't sure what to do with 'em... So I started a few pictures, but then I remembered it was Easter so I got a carton of eggs and started painting them instead. It was a lot of fun... I got a carton with the three rows steada two. Had, um. Eighteen eggs? There was a few left over when I couldn't think'a no more t'do. So I guess I got some breakfast f'tomorrow if I like. Din' boil 'em though... Doan know how t'make scrambled eggs or nothin'. Hafta see if Caddy or someone knows." His words come to a halt as he looks back up at you, a little shy when he realizes he'd been rambling.

Catherine just listens and giggles softly as she listens to your rambling, and then says softly, "I love the egg, you made two beautiful paintings on it, and I'm going to treasure them." She leans down a little further, supporting herself with her hands just above her knees. She smiles brightly, while she looks into your eyes, and says softly, "I should thank you properly for it.." She then leans just a little closer, touches a light kiss on the tip of your nose, and whispers, "Thank you.."

Trace gazes up at you after you kiss his nose, and after a moment blooms a sweet, bright grin. "Proper thank ya is a kiss, huh? Oughta earn ya gratitude more often." He tips his head to one side and wonders, "Always onna nose tho, I wonder?" A self-conscious laugh bubbles at that, and he shakes his head shyly. "Hey, Cathy?" He gently reaches out to take hold of your arms, and his fingertips slide down the slender length until he's got your hands, gaze rested there now. "I was wonderin' bout somethin'. Member when we was in Jackson Square, that night with the monsters, and you was my girl that night?" He lifts his eyes to look up at you again.

Catherine has a slight blush on her cheek as well, always a little quick to do the things she might not dare to do would she really think about them. She giggles softly and says, "Uhmm.. well.. I guess it's just.. well.. it depends.. You can kiss someone on their cheek and.. well.." She shuts up rather, and lowers her gaze, to see your hands taking hers, letting them rest very lightly in your grasp. She nods quickly, before looking up and she says softly, "Yeah, I wouldn't want to forget that.." She looks you back into your eyes, a glimmer in her own, and perhaps just a tad tense.

"Well..." Trace takes a deep, courage-gathering breath and says softly, "Would you be my girl t'night?" He grins a little, but there's still shyness all through him -- the line of his posture, his gaze, the quiet-hopeful voice. "N'what... about tomorrow? N'what bout afta that and afta that? Coz I... been thinkin', and ya jest really... sweet, an' pretty, and ya imagination's wild as mine." Then he giggles and adds, "An' how could I *not* like a girl who'd fling beignets at frat boys f'me?"

There is quite a range of red colours in the visible spectrum, and it looks as if Cathy's cheeks go through at least half of them. She just looks really deep into your eyes, though she looks a little dreamy, then lets out a nervous giggle, and she lowers her gaze as she nods her head. She needs a moment to take a deep breath as well, then she looks up, and whispers, "I.. I'd really.. really like that.. I mean.. as long as you.. well.. you should always be free.. and be you.. Yes, I'd love to.." She giggles suddenly, and now that the hardest part is over, the corners of her mouth curl up, while she says, "For you I'd throw squishy beignet at frat boys anytime.."

"You will?" Trace says softly, as though he really wasn't sure of how you'd respond, and then a smile has taken over his lips and refuses to relent. "That's...I mean.." He's not even sure what to say next, so he just giggles softly and squeezes your hands, eyes warm and happy. "N'of course we'll still be free. That's really good of you to say. I mean... I still won't look t'no other girl but you. I.. I believe in bein' faithful. But um. In other ways it should be 'bout freedom. I won't be no stalker t'ya if that's what ya mean... Follow ya round everywhere an' stuff, an' be a nuisance." He chuckles at the image of himself climbing trees to peek in your windows at night.

Catherine can only just grin a little silly at you, and as you give her hands a squeeze, she wriggles her fingers to weave them together with yours, holding them close. She shakes her head lightly, and says, "I.. meant.. well, it's not about.. not being faithfull.. I just mean that.. It's not like now I'd try to turn you into.. well, what everyone in my class is.. I mean.. I wouldn't try to get you off the street, and I'm there as well.. and.. well.." She shrugs, not quite knowing how to say it properly, then just says, "I'd want you to stay you.. And not like you have to tell me everything into detail about you and all.." She looks a little hesitant, not sure if she gets what she means across.

Trace stands up from the swing, still not releasing your hands as he does so, just to be on the same eye-level as you. "I understand," he assures you softly. "And I appreciate it. Course, t'tell ya the truth, I wouldn' mind tellin' you anythin' you wanted t'know. I kinda live like an open book. And also don't 'spect ta be on the streets forever. That weren't parta no plan or nothin. Ain't here fer a social statement." A giggle. "I'm jest broke, y'know? I got no family. So I get by. But I mean, someday things'll get better and I'll get some schoolin' in me and be able to get a job that ain't degradin' or illegal." His eyes get a little more serious as he admits, "Because really, there ain't no job I could get right now that'd support an apartment. All jobs open t'someone like me, they'd expect ya ta already HAVE a house, like with parents, or be in a dorm or something. Our other apartment Batiste had rented us, he got that by runnin' drugs to people. I won't do nothin' like that. Ain't worth it. If I get caught, I get sent home." A flash of worry in his eyes, quickly soothed. But it's apparant that the mere thought terrifies him. Something Bad is at home.

Catherine straightens up a little as you stand up before her, stil looking with that goofy smile at you, and she seems lost in your eyes while she listens, then finally says softly, "Well, I just mean.. sometimes there's stuff you can't tell about and all, and.. wll.. that kinda thing.. and.. Well.. just that's what I meant.." She then nods lightly, and says, "I'll do my best and help you learn all that you want to learn, and then I hope you can find something and have your own apartment and everything.. And I'll try to help out, and I wouldn't want anything to do with it if it had to do with drugs.." She looks thoughtful as well, though the treat of home isn't as intimidating as the idea of drugs.

"Me neither," Trace admits, shrugging gently. "May sound weird, coz'a what you know 'a my old habit. But I dunno... S'a big difference 'tween bein' a drug user and a drug dealer. Seriously. I mean, gettin' off the junk was so hard, Cathy. Y'can't even know how hard it was. I would feel terrible 'bout myself if I knew what I was doin' might be gettin' other people t'fall into the trap I got caught in myself. I wouldn't wanna wish that on *anybody*..." Hmm, this whole conversation is making something else occur to him, and he looks up with it ready on his lips, but doesn't say anything yet. A nervous hesitation, perhaps.

Catherine says very softly, while looking a lot more serious now, "I.. know.. I mean, that I can't know what it must have been like, but I heard it is really bad, and that is why I think it's so great you really did it.. And.. well.. yeah, using it.. well.. that's something else than making people start to use it.. That's just really evil.." Then the silence falls, and in it, she looks into your eyes, not sure what to say very well either.

Trace releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and squeezes your fingers again, murmuring, "I know... how ya feel 'bout drugs. And I mean... I wouldn't ever pressure you, or do nothin' in front of you. I wouldn't wanna change you neither, or make you feel bad. It's jest... well. Have you seen books or pamphlets, webpages or anythin' bout legalizin' marijuana...? I never really did it much until I gave up junk. It weren't til I quit... And actually I think it's done more good than bad, coz what it does is it acts like... a buffer 'gainst junk cravings. The only *legal* thing they offer fer that right now is somethin' called methadone, this liquid stuff they hand out in clinics. It's like legal heroin, and it's actually *more* addictive, but fer some reason it's legal so that's what they give ya. Vile stuff. I wouldn't touch it. The government's jest dumb, not lettin' junkies use somethin' so much safer like weed. They're afraid people'd pretend they was junkies so they could get some like that, I guess. And I s'pose there's people who would do that." He shakes his head a little, flinching as he admits, "So truth is I use it f'that more than, y'know... recreation. I know it sounds like a big, stupid excuse... But I hope you'll forgive me that. I jest din' want it to cause no fights or anythin' between us."

Catherine bites her lower lip, but doesn't say a word, just listens first to what you have to say. And even as you finish speaking she remains quiet for a while, though the expression in her eyes shows she is giving it all a lot of thought. Finally, she says softly, "I.. guess I.. knew that.. I mean.. at least a little bit.." Her hand holding yours gives a soft squeeze, and she brings a smile to her lips, as she says softly, "It's.. uhmm.. Well, I know that.. I don't think people would need things like that and alcohol and all to have a good time.. I think if it's what you need to enjoy yourself, it's like.. you're doing the wrong things.. But I know whay you say about making it bearable.. I read they are giving it to patients with diseases that make them hurt a lot, and it's better than painkillers.." She looks into your eyes, and nods again, then says, "If it's what helps you.. it's okay.. I mean.. it feels okay for me.. What got me mad the other time was that Ryan thought Mardi Gras wasn't fun to be at without using something, and I thought that was stupid."

"It is better'n painkillers," Trace agrees emphatically. "I have some friends actually who're hooked on them. I mean... 'least weed is natural. Not a buncha chemicals. And ain't nobody ever died from it. Don't even cause cancer or nothin' like cigarettes. I dunno..." He shrugs again. "Yer right, bout it bein' messed up if ya can't have a good time naturally. I totally disagree with Ryan there. I mean... I weren't on nothin' at all when we watched the parade together, y'know? And that was the best time I had during the whole festival.." You paged Jean-Batiste with 'Well, that's why I put mine on Fortunecity, but they make you have a banner on every page now. Ugh. Used to be you could just have it on one page, but now it gets slapped onto all of 'em automatically. It sucks.'.

Catherine nods slowly to agree with your words, and then smiles brightly as she says softly, "Yes, I really loved that, it was the best Mardi Gras I ever had, though I guess I've not been here for that long.. But I think even the best of those to come.." She giggles softly, as she looks down at your hands, hers held in yours, then back up, "I wondered for a little while if.. Well.. I was feeling all this, but.. I didn't want to be pushy and all.."

"Well, you was braver'n me," Trace grins, his eyes sparkling merrily. "S'a good thing too, coz I can be dense about things, or too shy to do what I feel..." He looks down. "I dunno. I'm glad ya was persistant 'nuff t'wait fer me to get it through my thick skull that ya liked me back." He tugs you forward in an impulsive hug, releasing your hands to wrap skinny arms around you in an embrace that's full of the akward enthusiasm and happiness of adolescence. "I'm glad y'wanted to be m'girl."

Catherine is just a little bit suprised, first hearing about being shy, and then the hug, but she is quick to respond in kind, her own hands wrapping around you, holding you close, her body lightly pressed to yours, and she looks in your eyes, then adds the last ingredient, a light kiss to your lips. She stands for a moment like that, but then rather reluctantly lets go, and says very softly, "I have to go now.. I'll see you really soon again, okay?"

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