everything you own ends up owning you.

[James DeCosta]

Sometimes it's hard to imagine how when everything seems to go so smoothly, something happens that makes you think twice and say oh shit.

It was another one of those lazy, hot afternoons perfect enough for ditching class and going somewhere to chill. Sitting in class especially in those hours after noontime made your eyes tired and heavy... the combination of the hot sun pouring through the window and the blowing air conditioner beside you made you wanna close your eyes and sleep. You never really wanna pay attention in class and take down notes when you've just eaten and when you're already thinking about what to do after school. That seemed to happen a lot in his case. Still a bit full from lunch, James let out a quick burp, stretched, and leaned over where he saw all that happened below. It was hot. He took off his black jacket and hung it over the balcony. Most of the kids were in class and refused to skip it with him- it would've been boring if he went somewhere alone, anyway. So he decided to chill here. He slid his hand in his pocket and briefly took a cigarette out from its white, metal case that had a logo of Playboy on the outside and a black felt interior. Taking out a lighter quickly afterwards, he lit his cig and began to smoke.
There wasn't much to do.

His mind wandered as to where he should be right now and what he should be doing. Well, school. Duh. Aside from that though, he should've been in a recording studio right now, making tracks and recording awesome tunes so everyone would love his song about some chick who's in New York, and he'd call it Hey There, Delilah. That song was stuck in his head. Although he denied having to like that song most of the time because, so they say, it's a chick song- he was slightly, maybe just a tiny bit fond of it and how the subtle guitar and lyrics sounded to his ears. He always thought that song was about some poor underage prostitute living off her own salary and using what she earns for school tuition... and he felt sorry for the stupid bastard in the song who's in love with her. Damn.

Inhale, exhale.

He wanted his shades so bad. To show 'em off and how they reflect the flickering sun would've made him feel cool, if he wasn't already. Well, he doesn't usually wear them unless it's really hot and bright outside, but ever since he got them it's been odd how he can't stop thinking of them everyday. He stole them from his last chick, anyway. He has a little obsession with his little 'gadgets', he calls them. Like the metal piece of ring he wore on his left ring finger, on it inscribed the words "reminders- they are not reluctant". And that little tattoo of Joan Jett flashing her boobs on one unholy place you'd never care to look and have to be on your knees on, trembling, lusting to catch a glimpse.
That is right under his foot.

A lot of thoughts passed by. How his dad was doing at work, his mom and his sister and how them girls were spending time together while he and his dad pretty much only had cellphones as their way of real communication, aside from their casual nods and little chats at home. His dad has just been really busy with work lately, that's all. When things chill, perhaps they'll get to talk and discuss about things more... like when he's getting his new car. They've talked about that a lot, only James couldn't help but bring up the topic as often as he could. His father promised once things work out and when he's done with the case he's working on right now, he'll get him his car. So until he gets that new Jaguar convertible, I guess he's stuck with his old Mustang. He doesn't mind. It's cool anyway, bags both the weed and chicks. Maybe minus the latter, he doesn't seem to be getting those lately, but you get the picture. It's a fine car, the first one his dad gave to him, so I guess it's of value. It was parked outside school and he could see it all the way here from the balcony. He sucked in through the cigarette between his lips, and blew out over the surroundings. The autumn leaves made noises as the cool breeze went by. It was getting cloudy, and the sky looked a bit more gray than a few minutes ago.

He wouldn't mind if it rained or if anyone caught him there. He didn't seem to be thinking a lot. He had a calm expression on his face, his eyes narrowed by the bright sun which kept repeating itself in the sky since the passing clouds kept blocking it as they went by. He was chill, just letting his mind go off to random thoughts about people and places and tasks he should start doing, which I guess is a good sign he doesn't use smoking as abuse or some sort of escape from his problems. He didn't have any, anyway. He was just bored, had nothing to do. Inhale, exhale. The old trees rustled once more.

[/color]

[Loren Ramos.]

"Face it, you're never going to fit in!"

[/i][/blockquote]
That voice echoed in the depths of her head, giving the redhead a headache. Having to heard one of her 'sisters' (she thought she should call them that, even if they are far from the mentioned) say that to her face yet again. It frustrated her really, she had only been here for a couple of months and her not-so-nuclear family here isn't treating her decently already. But what can she do? Once she weighed her options, she can't really bear to make either her mother or her... father -- she cringed at the term -- disappointed. Maybe it's just a people pleaser complex, but in the end, she still wouldn't want to inflict sadness in anybody.

She sighed.

Her footsteps making a loud thumping sound as Loren made her way to the balcony of the school. At first, she hadn't really seen the use a balcony in a learning institution, thinking it was way too... flashy. But after a few times of coming up here, she actually find the purpose of the place very fulfilling. Like a relaxing getaway from that dog-eat-dog world waiting outside. It was a great place to be, if you think about it, the plants and greens clashing with the vibrant colors of various flowers made it looked like a gardener's masterpiece. The place had a spacious place, and if you were to notice, the balcony held a great scenery of the whole university.

Loren kept her head down as she walked upstairs, her brows knitted together as she tried to calm herself. 'God damn that girl, she's so..' her mind continued on, rambling about incoherent hate-filled thoughts about her father's other daughters. Every once in a while wondering why they would be so hostile to her. Even if in the end, she knew she wouldn't get any satisfying answers. Some peace and calm, that's what she needed right now. And what other place to offer that but the balcony. "The only seemingly decent area in this whole place..." she hissed underneath her breath. Her gaze still looking down at the floor.

A sudden change of air made Lor look up, meeting the picture of a guy -- 'one of those obnoxious rebels I bet!' -- smoking. At first, it had only added to her irritation more. The fact that her 'alone place' was suddenly occupied. It was like having to rush to the bathroom only to find the last stall is taken. For a brief while, she just glared at the shaggy-haired guy with her green eyes. Then she turned her heels to leave.

But then she had a change of heart.

'Why should I leave? It's not like he owns the place!' Lor thought to herself, balling up her fists by her side and changed her direction again. Pausing for a little moment to see what she should do with him here. Yet, she just headed to lean on the silver steel rails. Deciding it'd be best if she just ignored him and try to go on with her life as if he wasn't there. Kind of snobbish on her part, but for now, with her irritation, she can't really care that much.[/blockquote][/color][/sup]

[James DeCosta]

It's also strange how when you go oh shit from all that's been done to you, something suddenly happens that makes everything seem better.

Random thought. He didn't focus much on what he was doing and what he was thinking, just letting random and unconventional ideas roll in. Staring into space with a blank expression in your eyes- others called it daydreaming, but it was his freedom in some way. He found comfort in letting his mind wander wherever, and basically all over everything that he knew of. A cool, interesting conspiracy or theory would often enter his mind and it made him feel like an excited little child keeping the biggest secret in the world. And then he'd forget a few minutes after. He wished he had like, a mental notebook in his head to write down everything he thought of, then he'd remember. I don't really know, it might be the quick rush of thoughts that wipes out everything in his head sometimes. He is most often found in deep thought when he's alone... or even when he's not sometimes. You can call it a mannerism. Or any kind of unstoppable habit.

Not bothered by the sound of footsteps coming up, he held the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled another. Smoking casually, gradually, and enjoying every breath of smoke, he was going to enjoy this last one as much as he can. He's out of smokes, and he's not thinking of smoking for quite some time after this. He believes it would be healthier for him if he laid off the smoking for a while, maybe a one-week, two-week gap. As if what he was doing seemed perfectly healthy. He took a little peek behind him to see who it was, and glimpsed an image of a redhead coming up the stairs. Before she noticed him, he turned back and took another suck of smoke.

He waited for her to come up to the rail with him. Strangely, that took a while, but when she finally did and ignored him, he turned his head and looked over.

Her red hair somehow strangely startled him, in its exact shade and hue and how it stood out amongst the flowers and the green plants that surrounded him. He only saw half of her face from where he was, but he guessed she was really pretty, judging from her side profile. It might seem shallow, but he'd be much more interested in talking to someone who's pretty than someone who's not. Not like he turns his back on anyone whom in his book, isn't pretty, but a good-looking person gives you something to look at, you know. A guy couldn't help but notice appearances first. That's just how they are.

He took one last glance, and looked away back to where he had been letting his eyes run off to. He had quite forgotten what he was thinking of when she came up, and so decided to just talk to her while they were up there. He shifted his elbows on the silver rails to his comfort while his shoulders relaxed. "Hey. You smoke?" he said, not meeting her eyes as he took the cigarette from his mouth, and blew off a heavy cloud of smoke from his lungs.

[Loren Ramos.]

A sigh escaped Loren's mouth as not-so-fond memories began to play in her mind. 'Like unwanted scenes in a gore movie,' she thought to herself, combing some stray strands of her wild red hair back as her eyes were down cast. Staring at the dull scenery of the school's campus. Nothing interesting there, nothing relatively great about the courtyard and hallways, but it calmed her down a bit.

Meanwhile, her mind back tracked to the first few days she had spent here in Connecticut. It definitely wasn't a warm welcome, that's for sure. Her supposed half-sisters; Lindsey, Carlene and Michelle had already formed an alliance against her, and though she felt that her half-brother, Nathan, was okay - she's willing to guess that he just does not care. Nope, not even if Loren claimed that she'd want to jump off a skyscraper or pull one of his sisters down with her. 'He's so incredibly passive!' she thought to herself, frustrated. Frustrated that her half-brother was so mysterious, and so clouded. Frustrated by the fact that she doesn't know whether he'd be the one to stand with her, or against her - therefore, siding with his siblings. But then again, she's new. Most families aren't used to the concept of their oh-so-responsible honorable father having had an outside relationship with another woman and impregnated her, were they? Nope, it was out of the norm in real life. It was probably more ordinary in soap operas and all of that.

And even so, Loren still doesn't seem to know how to deal with it. A thought crossed her mind that maybe she should jot down ideas from these said dramas, but then again, she probably doesn't have enough guts to do what these characters, who also have been placed in her condition, have done. 'Face it Lor, you're a coward!' her alter-ego took a stab at her. Loren sighed yet again.

"Hey. You smoke?"

This made Loren jumped a tad bit. She had been into her own little family crisis that she hadn't even noticed the guy who took the vacant position next to her. She looked at him, yep, he seemed properly disheveled. What an oxymoron, but she guess that's what is 'in' these days, so regardless of how ridiculous she thought the idea was, it would make no difference. Besides, it's probably the look assigned to his clique anyway. For any purpose other than to distinguish themselves, Loren wasn't sure of anything else there is.

Lor shook her head in response to his question. Not entirely trusting herself to speak for a moment, unsure of whether her speech would be filled with unintended malice in them due to her condition at the moment.

"Nah, I try not to kill the helpless greens in this place."

She managed to respond calmly, facing the guy with a slight smile pasted on her freckled face. Although, her intent of letting him know that he's polluting the environment was there.

[James DeCosta]

"Nah, I try not to kill the helpless greens in this place."

That line would've struck a vein in his temple and may have caused him to violently speak out and rebel although her reasons would've been far more rational than his.

But it didn't. He looked her in the eye... and realized that he hasn't actually seen her here before, in his twelve-year existence in school. And then he began noticing her hair again as it kept distracting him and how it flashed brightly under the sun. Ah, so it is true what they say about redheads. He kept eyeing her face. Top. Bottom. Top. Bottom. Bottom... bottom... bottom. He switched his head back to the scenery before the balcony, and took a drag off his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and crushing it under his shoe. Her words didn't affect him or move anything inside him- perhaps just made him think that maybe she was one of those touchy environmentalists. James was most comfortable smoking alone or with somebody who also smoked, but wasn't so used to 'killing helpless greens' in front of a lady. Even in front of this one. It wasn't polite, he thought, anyway. A smile broke his solemn expression as the quiet huff of laughter escaped his lips.

"Ah, that's fine. I have none left anyway," he casually spoke and turned away a little, crossing his arms in front of him, leaning against the bar.
Again, he let the thoughts flow in, feeling the cool breeze sweep his neck.

James always had that spot on the terrace to himself. I guess the feel of someone there with him bothered him slightly, although it barely showed. He wasn't so used to it and made him uneasy on the inside a little. His thoughts returned to wondering what his friends, who were still in class, were doing right now. Probably discussing about that big report project, which, in his opinion, was duck soup. He'd probably star and finish his the last day before submission and might even get an A for it. Well, not likely, maybe. But he knew the subject pretty well, he believed, and could easily finish that report when he finds the time to. When he wants to.
The flash of red caught his attention again.
Then he wondered, Why wasn't she in class? Was she skipping class like him? Did she even go to the school? Maybe she was one of those really deep freaky people who left crowds often to be in solitude, thinking they're too good for the world that keeps betraying them with every second cut off their life. He laughed on the inside. He doesn't admit to stereotyping people and never will. Naming a person according to how he or she acted and dressed made it easier for him, especially how to be in front of certain people. There were individuals though, who chose to be different and not follow what only seems right according to society or what their friends think. He was one of them, he believed in his mind, but he can't stop people from naming him an obnoxious, rude rebel just because he hangs out with the so-seeming people. I guess that's his karma for stereotyping pink-clad rich bitches, too.

Flash. Red. Flash.
He wondered. Why wasn't she in class?
As his inquisitive mind battled the ideas in his head, he chose to settle for the thought that probably she was just bored, like him, and didn't want to sit and fall asleep in a more boring place. He finally got that away, and brought himself back to now and to the reality of the wind smacking his hair aside and the feeling of not being totally alone with someone next to him on that high balcony set above the ground in front of which stood the view of the whole school. Still, he was sighing quietly to himself and felt boredom coming again.

Considering he just killed his last smoke before he could even finish it and now had nothing much to do, he turned back to the girl and decided to talk to her instead.
"So kid, are you new?"
The tiny smile that had crept in after his laugh before hadn't left his expression.

[Loren Ramos.]

That little gesture made Loren raise a brow. Her lips formed a slight smirk, she was unbelieving. She began to open her mouth to say that he need not to do that, he can do what he wants and that it's not as if she owns the place anyway; but all that came out of her mouth was a mere...

"Well, that's awfully nice of you."

Her verbose statement being cut replaced by a less mouthful one, her full freckled lips made a kind smile. It certainly took her by surprise, to be honest. She was actually more or less expecting something... venomous from him. Somewhat a struggle before she'd jab that petty cigarette off his mouth in rage after his verbal assaults. But it didn't came, and though she felt thankful, she also thought it was a tad bit strange.

After that, silence passed by again. Normally, Loren would've found the lack of noise disturbing and uncomfortable. Her life at home was never really quiet, truth be told, she was always surrounded by her friends and family. Chattering away, or some music in the background would always amend any silent gaps. And her, well she suppose it's her new life in Connecticut now, was no different. It wasn't the same warm and familiar atmosphere at all, but it was noisy enough to make her, well, mad. So finding some quiet time for herself was pretty much rare, much more finding a quiet time with someone else in the same area was also rare. Oddly enough, she felt at ease with the momentary silence that was building up around her.

Like him, her mind also wandered far away from various subjects, all but to stray away from that one thought that actually led her to this place. Instantly her brain went to random things; like the weather. She had mixed feelings about it, to be honest. She loved the chill it brought her, but hated that it was ruining her hair. 'Not that it isn't messy enough already,' she thought wryly to herself, releasing another sigh. 'Oh great, now you're succumbing to the female stereotype, just... great!' Lor mentally scolded herself. Somehow being different was something she liked, and would love to practice, but she knew she just didn't have enough guts to do it. Still, she had once thought that she'd want to be different... in her own subtle way, at least. But the way she's acting right now, the catty way she's dealing with her earlier verbal assault from her half-sister, didn't seem to aid to that little plan.

'That girl... she makes me think about things I can never imagine I'll ever do in my life!'

It might be a stretch, but it was because of her half-sister, Lindsey, that she was up here right now. Not exactly cutting class, but she was indeed missing class. There are just those times when you can't concentrate just because your mind is running with all sorts of ideas and thoughts. Her literature teacher, Miss Copeland, knew that Loren was out of it. Lor, ever thankful that she had the spinster on her side, was then granted a hallway pass. Her teacher actually intending for one of her star students to go to the clinic, but Loren hesitated. It's not like the sixty-something woman would know anything anyway. So there's a bit of her rebellious side, not that she'd show it much nowadays.

"So kid, are you new?"

[/b][/blockquote]
The guy's voice then broke through her silent reverie. But unlike the first time, Loren turned to him with a smile, reciprocating his own. It was as if his easy-going vibe was infectious.

"Is it that obvious? Do I stick out like a sore thumb or something?"

The more she thought about it, he was actually the first person who asked her that. It was strangely... relaxing. For once, they're not all "oh hey—how's it like living with Lindsey and Nathan, the two most popular siblings in school?" and all that crap. They all seem to know her name—her last name at least, (as she was using the Ramos surname now instead of her mother's maiden name) and pretty much acknowledge her as the other Ramos girl. It was more than likely that her half-siblings may have been talking about her even before she got to the school. Thus ruining her chances to live a normal quiet life at this... new place (she can't even call it home, or anything of that sort, as it was far away from it), it would rather be nice to have people you don't know ask you for your name, rather than go "ooh, look, it's the Ramos girl! I think her name is Laurie? Lulu? Lucy?"

It was just plain rude, that's all.

"Yeah, I'm new. I just transferred from New York a few weeks ago."

Loren had to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying: "I'm surprised you haven't even heard of me!" as it seemed it would give the impression that she was egotistic, but it was more or less the truth anyway. With her half-siblings around, planning God knows what against her, who knows who else could have known about her?[/blockquote][/sup][/color]

[James DeCosta]

”Well, that’s awfully nice of you.”
James paused for a moment. It might take time for him to absorb that. Well, throwing beer bottles at my neighbors’ houses and blackmailing drunk girls with far from decent videos… yeah, I get that a lot, he thought to himself. James carried sarcasm like a disease. Even though that little statement he conjured up in his head seemed far from pleasant, it seemed to have amused him and forced another laugh on the inside.

What she had said itched on his neck a little. It wasn't like the word seemed new to him- I mean, he was a decent kid who did a lot of good things for people. Only he didn't want her to think he was being nice to her after she went all defensive when he offered her a smoke. It also bothered him how that was still stuck in his head. He needed a smoke. He simply put it out because he deemed it would be polite to- polite was different from nice. You could be having a war and still be civil towards the enemy. Not like she was the enemy. She seemed okay.
The more he thought of this chick, the more it bothered him. It was like being paralyzed and totally defenceless against that itch prickling under your foot. He let it go, and decided to just shut it for now.

His fingers twitched. They ached for a drag. He balled his hand to a fist and started tapping the bar with the ring on his finger. It was one of his habits, making little unnecessary noises when he felt the discomfort of silence rolling in. Drumming his hands against his desk in the middle of a test eased him, drumming along to the songs that would be stuck in his head. He often wrote down songs that were stuck in his head. He read somewhere that if you write down something that's bothering you or simply can't be taken out of thought, it takes it away by seventy-three percent. His journal filled with only one-fourth of his strange and random thoughts is physical proof. Such random thoughts entered his mind frequently. People didn't know about it, but if they did, they'd think he was strange. It was possibly one of the many reasons why he was usually so introverted.

Her bright garnet-gold tresses reminded him of his grandmother who passed away many years ago. The pain of her loss stabbed through his little heart as a boy. She was beautiful. The old pictures from when she was a young girl would’ve made James blush if only she wasn’t his grandmother. Her locks were just as full and as rich as hers. James was curious to know why his mother hadn’t inherited a single strand of red- she was a full blond bombshell. The women in his family were all queens. Why, if only they weren’t family. But James didn’t have intentions like that at all, he just thought his mother and grandmother were both beautiful and wonderful women… he’d like to meet someone like that one day. They were like flowers that would daze his innocent boyish eyes and make him wonder in amazement why they chose to do what they do. Being a mom was a tough job, but as a child, he was one of the few who actually appreciated it and found beauty in it. But now he was almost a man and it made him feel good that his mom trusted him with everything now, which was the other way around when he was little. The thought made his pride swell deep inside him, but he cursed at himself for being easily manipulated by such a silly thought. Then he realized he had been doing it again, these random events and remembrances from the past that suddenly just block out his awareness of the present. And all the while, his eyes were glued to her hair and he found that something inside him strangely fancied it. It was weird. Then she spoke.

"Is it that obvious? Do I stick out like a sore thumb or something?"

He half-smiled at her comment a little, and nodded slightly at her confirmation that she was, in fact, new. "Nah. Just that you rarely see redheads in school. Last time I checked a few weeks ago, you weren't one of them yet," he said, strangely serious about his statement instead of laughing and expecting her to laugh along, too. The leaves rustled, the small plants shook as the cold breeze greeted his face again. Keeping his elbows on the rails, he crossed his arm over and offered his hand, "My name's James. Yours?"

[Loren Ramos.]

[ooc; sorry it took so long. busy with school and all, you know that usual crap. XD]

"Nah. Just that you rarely see redheads in school. Last time I checked a few weeks ago, you weren't one of them yet."

[/i][/blockquote]Loren chuckled, a tad bit bitterly I suppose. Remembering fully well her struggle to make her mother disagree with this plan of her birth father's. She remembered words being thrown around, words that would make a sailor blush and hide his head in shame, and most of them were on Loren's part. All because she was nothing but detesting the idea of leaving her friends back home. So to keep one thing straight; Loren doesn't hate the idea of spending time with her birth father - heck, she was willing to. But the thing that she doesn't like the most was leaving - not only her friends - but her home behind.

It was freshman year anyway! Who would dare transfer to another school by that crucial time is beyond Loren. She, along with her tight knit of friends were going to go through their first year of high school. All excited, seemingly convinced that this was to be the most enjoyable years of their lives. Yet to be stripped away of all this was something she couldn't take.

Every night since she got here, all Lor can think about was whether she'd suffer the same fate if things were different and she never left, or were her friends suffering the same fate - that little freshman hazing thing? But then again, they never seemed to be the type to be the center of the gossip, or the butt of every joke - as Loren was convinced anyway.

"Yeah, I know."

Loren said softly. If anything, her red hair wasn't the only thing that was capturing people's attention, it was also her reputation. She was, as Lindsey had gossiped about, as horrid as her birth mother. Lots of false rumors had been created about her, and some of them were just mere exaggeration of white clean truth. It made her more than frustrated at times, but Loren just can't seem to find a way to fight back. What, one girl against the whole school - 'and maybe this guy, if he turned out alright,' she thought, giving the young man next to her a look over - seemed a ridiculous fight.

"My name's James. Yours?"

[/i][/blockquote]With her peripheral vision, she caught sight of his extended palm. She then turned herself to face him, placing herself a few feet away from the rail to shake his hand. 'How... formal of him,' she thought, amused. Once again surprised that this guy was turning out better than she ever thought.

"Loren. Loren Ramos."

She replied without a smile on her features, or any expression at all. Preparing herself for a gasp, or the shock on his face, or whatever his reaction maybe to the fact that this was the girl. The girl the whole school was being scandalous about. At first, Loren felt a little sad and disappointed. It was most definitely only a short while, but Lor was convinced that he's one of the decent people around. And to be losing someone sane like that, well in this school of aesthetic-driven and insane people, it was such a loss. Yet she should always anticipate this from now on, right?

The shocked biased expressions on their faces shouldn't be so hard to shake off. After all, she'd already gotten enough of them with her half-siblings, so it wouldn't be too hard.[/blockquote][/sup][/color]

[James DeCosta]

Jump way back to last Tuesday. It had been a lovely day. Then after school was when he came home to the sight of his dad’s secretary slash girlfriend at that time, very scantily clad in the arms of another man- some dude he did not know of at all.

“Don’t tell your father, James.”

He loved Chauntelle, that was her name. He was like an older sister to her, or the best aunt in the world to some little kid. They both listened to the same music and had the same taste in movies and food, even, which made James like her even more for his dad to be with. She was hot, he had to admit, and she actually looked more of his age- if not just a few years older-rather than his father’s. All the while, she seemed like a nice, polite girl who had wonderful values and a bright, positive outlook on life and the future. His dad loved her very much and was very much pleased with the fact that James enjoyed her presence in his life. James held back laughter in sick amusement at how they seemed so lost in each other’s eyes in some fancy restaurant just a few weeks before the slut within her came to surface.

He wondered how his dad coped. His mom was doing perfectly fine with her life right now, happily remarried, raising his two younger sisters to be the wonderful girls they were meant to be. It was not as if his dad was doing horribly, though, but it made James slightly bothered at how he managed to go through one romance to another without even fully recovering after heartbreak. Financially, his dad had never been better. He kept good money in the bank and owned a big house right on the cliff that cast itself over the beach. People knew the DeCostas had quite a sum of money in their pockets, but treated them no differently as with anyone. They were humble folk and very friendly, and didn’t make a big deal. James hadn’t been the type to flash the cash, anyway, unlike some other rich, spoiled kids. Money was material. He could care less if his family lost most of its finances, or all of it, even. He wouldn’t mind being dirt poor and being a hobo for once in his life, or for the rest of eternity. I guess it was easy for him to say, granted there wasn’t much for him to live for in his youth anyway. Even if he chose such a life, he knew his father wouldn’t let him anyway. And James respected his father, but how we switched to different flings and relationships frequently slightly killed the hopes of James finding a true and wonderful relationship one day.

Sometimes it was nice to think how he subtly communicated with the wind. And despite how he constantly polluted it, it was that force that cleared his constantly polluted mind. It did more to him than gave him some air to breathe to relax. It pierced itself right through his skin, shaking every nerve and cell and fibre of his existence, much like how the drama in his life kept repeating itself in memory, returning to him all the time, hoping to drag the present along with it. It was tempting to give in to the dirt that happens to you. To just give up and lay lifeless, to finally free yourself from everything sounded like good idea. To retaliate back into your little cardboard box, feeling the dampness of its surface as it shields you from the ever-mocking rain, which would have strangely made you feel even warmer and safe in your realization of bittersweet solitude from those that break your trust.

His brow raised as soon as she had introduced herself. He pondered for a while about where he had heard that name before, images of his friends and people talking about it. He nodded to her, but one that would've made her unsure if he heard her right. His thoughts rewound in attempt to fish out something about that name, and after his few seconds of trying to recall where he had heard her name spoken before, he slowly turned back to her and eyed her up and down for a moment before saying, "Well, you don't look Spanish." He curled a smile, and caught the sight of her hair once more, noticing one loose curl touching her freckled neck.

[Loren Ramos.]

Loren waited for his response, her eyes, that were usually kept downwards whenever someone was to apprehend her, were placed on him. Waiting to see his reaction, whatever it might be.

[/SUP][/BLOCKQUOTE]

[ooc; sorry, but W.I.P for the moment.]