Wingman and the Fall Girl Meet the Press

Posted on Sat Nov 11th, 2023 @ 2:00 by Sarah Bright & Cameron Johnston

Chapter: All Hallow's Eve
Location: New Cresthill
Timeline: Late October, before Halloween
6390 words - 12.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Charlie throttled down Main Street, handling all of the twists, turns and myriad road obstacles that New Cresthill’s main thoroughfare had to offer with ease. Charlie, or so Sarah had affectionately dubbed her new-but-thoroughly-used 1973 Morris Marina, now felt like a whole new car, compared to the one that she’d taken for a test drive only a few weeks before. But then again, she would’ve hoped an extra thousand quid in maintenance repairs would’ve had that effect: new tires, new brakes, new muffler, new spark plugs, a coolant flush, and a clean carburetor had all made the Morris feel a lot more roadworthy, even if it still wasn’t exactly a desirable vehicle.

Sarah was pleased, but then again, she was the one not firing on all four cylinders.

The residents of New Cresthill, however, seemed less than impressed. A gentleman about to jaywalk an otherwise quiet street threw an obscene gesture after he was forced to stop short when Charlie sped by. A pair of older women did a double take, then shook their heads in disapproving unison. A gaggle of furtive-looking teens took one look at the car and conspired even more furtively. A group of children took one look and ran, screaming.

“Oh, come on now… I’m not even driving that fast.” Sarah said as she shook her head in disbelief. Yes she was a rather aggressive driver, but many from Boston and Eastern Massachusetts in general were, enough so that when New Englanders in general saw a Massachusetts license plate, the word Masshole came to mind.

Sarah put the screaming kids of out of her mind for the moment. It was Halloween time, kids always acted even more strange this time of year. She was headed to the town’s fall festival, so she fully expected to encounter many more kids acting strangely.

“So what do you think of Charlie? She cleans up nice, doesn’t she?” Sarah said to Cameron as she patted the car’s dashboard for emphasis.

There was no small amount of irony to the fact that the reputed Fastest Man in Scotland had white knuckles from clenching his fists too tight, every bit his natural response to the chaos of near-misses and disgruntled pedestrians. Even without taking his powers into consideration, Cameron had technically driven much faster on the open road, especially on the rare occasion where he was able to take Lulu out for an extended ride. The important qualifier in all of this was 'open road', coupled with his insistence on avoiding heavily-trafficked areas and not disregarding the mode of transport as essential to the overall perception of control. If he was forced to admit it, Cam would probably have agreed he wasn't the best passenger in any circumstance, preferring the driver's seat of just about any vehicle he travelled in, but there was also what felt like very reasonable concern that the specific car was being put through paces it wasn't cut out to endure. He'd done some of the work himself, which was fast becoming tantamount to slipping the noose into place so that someone else could kick away the stool. He felt implicated in this torment, and felt only marginally more apologetic towards the residents of New Cresthill as he did to the car itself.

"She's tenacious, I'll give her that."

Sarah nodded, approving of the descriptor, and not noticing her passenger's disapproval of her driving. Contrary to what Cameron might be thinking, she was a pretty good driver; she was just used to a more fast-paced and cutthroat driving experience, and like most everything else about her she was a creature of habit. As if to showcase this, the librarian abruptly swerved hard into the incoming lane, neatly avoiding a car backing out of a blind driveway sandwiched between two buildings. 'Meep Meep' Charlie uttered as Sarah tapped on the horn while swerving back into her lane. It was not a move she normally would've made, but given her view of the road ahead and its lack of any oncoming traffic, swerving seemed a better bet than braking hard, and hoping the new brakes were up to the task.

"I don't think this town is ready for Charlie and me." Sarah said with a sigh as she slowed down a bit. With the fall festival the town was just too chaotic, and they were really not in a rush. Plus the speed was making her hair blow everywhere, but that was what she got for driving with the ragtop off. But there were not many days left where she'd be able to do so, so it felt important to her to make the most out the time she had before the colder weather came.

As they drove further into town, traffic noticeably increased, and Sarah was starting to see a lack of parking options on the street. She felt it would be best to pull over and park on her terms now, than try and push on and risk getting detoured and funneled into a messy traffic jam. As soon as she pulled over and parked, another group of kids looked and then took off screaming. Sarah looked at Cameron as she engaged the parking brake, bewilderment clear on her features. Something was going on with her, and maybe it wasn't her driving.

There wasn't a lot of opportunity to discuss it, not when Cameron had timed the opening of his door with the squeak of the handbrake. Pouring himself out onto the street might not have technically been a harried escape plan but there was definitely relief evident in the quiet groan he emitted as he stretched his arms over his head and waited for his shoulder to crack. Swinging both in lazy windmills several times, he stared towards the busy town centre and squinted thoughtfully. "I hope you're in the mood for a crowd." He was still not, if he was entirely honest, completely sure what it was they were doing here, only that the invitation to join Sarah had seemed to come from a place of sincere effort. Reagan's absence had left a few holes in people's social calendars, and getting away from obligation once in a while wasn't necessarily objectionable, he'd just not paid the closest attention to his companion's grand plan.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" Sarah said, trying to sound encouraging as she unfurled the rag top and began the laborious process of buttoning it back into place. She wasn't at all worried about anyone stealing the car as most of the townspeople seemed repelled by it, but she was worried about a passing rainshower loosening the fresh duct tape that was essentially holding her driver's seat together, if only the upholstery. She'd lost two pairs of tights to the old duct tape, and she was kind of hoping to at least get through tonight before losing a third.

"Maybe we'll see someone we know?" The librarian added, sweetly and innocently. Though it fairly obvious who she was referring to, Sarah didn't seem to mean anything by it. She was not the sort to meddle in her friends' personal lives, but she was the kind of friend who liked to dabble in social spontaneity. She couldn't help it if there was a bit of overlap from time to time.

Reaching in back for her satchel and tossing it over her shoulder, Sarah retrieved her hairbrush and spent a quick moment preening before realizing the futility of it, when within seconds, a random gust rendered her hair windblown again. She looked down and seemed to take momentary pride in her most fall-themed outfit, which was basically what she always wore, except with a burgundy sweater with a black, pleated skirt. A burnt orange scarf was a new accessory, but black tights and her ever-present dingy Converse sneakers were certainly not. She wished she had a knit beanie cap to pair with the outfit, if only to partially hide her tangle of hair, but sadly she was without. She was kind of hoping she would find a local crafts-person with one for sale.

"Ok Cam. We have a tough choice to make here, and I'm leaving it up to you." Sarah said, rounding on her new friend in a seeming serious manner. "The embarrassing festival games. They are a must. But do we get them out of the way first? Or do we prepare ourselves with a drink or two first, and hope we haven't got any witnesses in tow by then?"

As he stood there, hands on hips contemplating the bustle of semi-familiar faces, Cameron realised that, whilst he admired his friend's optimism, he wasn't entirely sure he shared it. As far as positive outlooks went, this was unusual for the mutant, who didn't find it comforting at all to view the township that he had spent so much time in as a source of potential friction. The possibility had always been there and it was true that not everyone had taken to his particular brand of boyish charm but he had made genuine friendships, been christened a 'good lad' by more than one crotchety old lady and it bothered him a great deal to think that opinion in that regard might have shifted.

He had also kept to himself the changes he'd noticed in his metabolism. One of the greatest challenges of using his powers, beyond figuring out how to activate them efficiently, was maintaining his own energy levels enough for prolonged execution. Ever since the surge, Cameron had noticed that he could go longer, faster, on less and as much as that was definitely a positive side-effect of an otherwise dangerous escalation, he hadn't been keen to explore how his body handled the metabolising of alcohol for fear the entire ordeal had rendered him a cheap drunk. Both problems combined to provide him with an initial gut-instinct, which he ran with because it didn't require him to also justify why the idea of Sarah driving back with several glasses of mead under her belt left him with the urge to find an excuse to walk.

"Definitely festival games," he responded, glancing over the top of the car to grin at her. He didn't add that involving themselves in anything competitive was probably best attempted before the rest of the townsfolk got belligerently merry.

Sarah nodded approvingly. No better time to be brave and make a fool of one's self than the first immediate opportunity. It had, after all, been her dating strategy for the past ten or so years. Yes, there had been times she'd rather forget, but for the most part those were outweighed by the knowledge that she'd had a lot of fun. She also wasn't really keen on drinking, for reasons that also related to her powers, and might be considered diametric to Cameron's were they to ever discuss them at length. It was almost impossible for Sarah to get drunk. and during a brief rebellious phase during her teenage years she'd certainly tried. Several attempts at trying all ended up in a pointless cycle of wasting money on the most foul-tasting, super-potent concoctions one could procure, with the only result being her feeling very bloated, and constantly having to pee. The librarian had learned quickly that she much preferred wasting her money on beverages that she actually enjoyed, while in the presence of more gentle-minded souls like herself. Give her the choice of a pint in a pub or a cuppa in a cafe? Sarah would pick the cafe every time. Well, almost every time--whenever there wasn't a pretty lady around to complicate things.

"This used to be my least favorite time of year. Going back to school, back to the grind, with the weather turning lousy and not much to do when your only ride was a bicycle." Sarah said as she stowed her hair brush back into her satchel. "Now its my favorite. The colors, the crisp air. Everyone's refocused... yet relaxed and laid back, out and about in their comfy clothes they haven't been able to wear in however many months." Like getting drunk, Sarah could also not relate to that. She didn't really sweat, and could wear her comfy sweaters and tights all through the heat of summer, though she usually chose to forgo them in an effort to not draw attention. This time of year, Sarah certainly did not have to worry about that. Ten steps away from the car, and she could've blended into the crowd like a ninja.

Though there wasn't a spoken question from Sarah to ask about Cameron's favorite time of year, there was a deliberate pause and a glance in his direction to suggest she was pondering it. She was a subtle conversationalist in that regard, walking a fine line between intro- and extraversion that she seldom realized or understood.

"It's football season," Cam declared, as if that cemented his opinion. There wasn't a lot of need to mention which code he was referring to either, having spent enough time on both sides of the pond to have appreciation for most sports. In a different world, under different circumstances, it was what he'd be doing with his life if there was actually a choice but if humanity was cagey about the existence of mutants to begin with, it was certainly not ready to consider them viable contenders for competitive environments. "Christmas just around the corner. Pumpkin pie comes out of retirement for another year." Being English born and bred had not left him entirely able to embrace the Thanksgiving holiday during his time in the States, but any holiday that wanted to offer Cam a table laden with food was worth considering as far as he was concerned. "And the crazy hijinks of Halloween."

Hands stuffed into his pockets, he strolled beside her, a feigned nonchalance that attempted to hide his awkwardness. A silent nod of acknowledgement was more or less reciprocated from a smattering of townsfolk but, as Cameron had feared, there was a hesitancy even amongst those who had known him well enough these past couple of years. "Any preference?" There was a small crowd around every activity, making each about as tenuous a prospect as the next.

Sarah said little when Cam mentioned football, as she cared little for most competitive sports, except for perhaps golf or tennis. But she did voice murmurs of approval over his other reasons for appreciating the fall season, especially his mention of pumpkin pie, where her murmur took on an almost hungry tone. As they walked on she seemed oblivious to the reactions of the locals, and for the most part she was. She was still new to the area, and regarded their hesitation around them as simply part of the local flavor.

As for the activities, Sarah had her eyes on two. She liked the absurdity of bobbing for apples, and had fond memories of it when she was younger. Years ago she'd gone to a festival just like this one, with a girlfriend she had a crush on, but at the time she'd lacked the experience and courage to act on her feelings. She'd used the game as an excuse to get her crush to hold her hair back from getting wet while she tried to bite at a bobbing apple, even though--like any girl with long hair--she rarely went without a hair tie around her wrist. With that wistful memory still fresh on her mind, she turned away from the activity for the moment to focus on the other that had piqued her interest.

Sarah eyed the boys and girls lining up to take bites at what appeared to syrupy-coated pastries dangling from strings. The kids were all bent over and bumping into one other as they tried to lean in with bent necks to eat the treats without the syrup dripping all over their favorite fall outfits. It was playful and adorable, and with the older kids, seemed to include a bit of flirtation as well. She turned her attention from them to the adjacent string set at a much taller height, where adults played at the same game, and currently the vast majority of which were women around her age. A few had dates with them, young men who looked like they'd rather be doing something more dignified than getting syrup on themselves, though they seemed content enough watching their lady-friends giving it a go. Most, however, seemed unattached and quite ready for an awkward introduction, either with Cam, or hopefully herself. Sarah still didn't know Cam very well, and felt some hesitation in dragging him into such an activity, but it was an opportunity to get closer to people her own age--the women mainly--that was hard to pass on.

"That." The librarian said decisively, pointing to the gooey pastries dangling from strings. She'd already plucked her hair tie from her wrist and was preparing to fix her hair into a pony tail with a single-mindedness akin to that of a soldier readying their gear for battle. Someone who didn't know her better would probably just assume she had an appetite for gooey treats.

It hadn't escaped Cameron's attention that both options were food-oriented, mostly because they likely would have been exactly what he would have zeroed in on. His metabolism may have shifted somewhat after recent events but he was still someone used to requiring a decent fuel intake, and it was hard to argue with freely-dangling danishes. Hands shoved into his pockets, he was hesitant, however, to put himself forward to compete. Not only had life pummelled into him the notion that he had an unfair advantage in anything that required speed, dexterity or reflex, he couldn't shake the wariness that came from not knowing quite where he stood with these people anymore. The last thing he wanted was to create a scene.

Reaching out, he clapped Sarah on the shoulder.

"Go scope out the competition, I'll watch for poison darts."

Sarah harrumphed with feigned disappointment as Cam all but told her she was on her own. She wasn't seriously disappointed. She would still have fun making a fool of herself in front of some of the local ladies, even though she was all but certain that none of them would be interested in the way she was hoping for. With girls on her mind, she couldn't help but contemplate the specific wording of what her friend had said. Go scope out the competition. God... did he know? Well if he didn't yet, he was probably going to in a minute or two.

Tying her hair back, Sarah joined the line of waiting contenders for the next round of... whatever the game was called. No-hands scone eating? It appeared that the rules were simple. Eat a scone dangling from a string, and don't use your hands. Whoever finished theirs first won the game. Sarah guessed that eating the snack was prize enough, considering the game was free to play.

Of course, when Sarah joined the line, a few of the guys waiting by the sidelines finally found the courage to join up too... thus lessening her chances to indulge in the sort of close mingling she was hoping for. it wasn't that any of them seemed interested in her specifically, it was the just timing of it. She could've used her powers to tell, but that was something she tried to avoid doing, especially around groups of people.

There was only a short wait as new dangling treats were tied onto the line, all set at varying heights. Even though it was only a nonsensical game, Sarah did feel very self-conscious. She was probably the oldest one playing, and her scone seemed like it was set to an awkward height. The ladies setting the game up didn't appear to be evening the playing field by arranging the treats to match the height of the people going after them. In fact, Sarah could've sworn the opposite was the case. The very basic instructions were repeated in a very thick local accent, along with a whole sentence that she could not comprehend. Joking encouragement, perhaps? Then one of the ladies smacked the line with a stick, which set all the scones bobbing too and fro. Apparently that signaled the start of the game.

All thoughts of looking like a fool flew out of Sarah's head as she tried to focus on the game. One would think it would be easy to follow the rules, but she actually found it quite difficult. Her hands instinctively wanted to reach up and grab hold of the scone to stop of from bouncing around. She'd noticed the others sticking their hands into their pockets before the game, and in that moment regretted the fact that save for jackets, nothing she wore had pockets. So she clasped her hands behind her back instead, which proved to be a mistake.

Sarah quickly found that her scone was a bit too high for her to reach.She had to go up on her tip-toes just to even reach it. No fair!. To make matters worse, her Converse sneakers were so worn out that she couldn't stay balanced while she stretched up on her tip-toes.She felt like what drunks looked like, staggering one way then the other. At least she wasn't wearing her heels. They might've allowed her to reach the scone, but they probably would've sunken into the ground in the grassy park within seconds of leaving the sidewalk. Just as it almost seemed she was able to take a bite, she felt herself nudged off balance by one of the guys next to her, who was bent over like a question mark, trying to bite at a scone that was set to dangle noticeably lower than his height. Sarah fell, and bumped behinds with the girl on her other side, who was struggling in much the same way she was. They both went down in a heap.

The game was over almost as soon as it began. One of the girls got disqualified for using her hands. Sarah and the girl next to her were down... apparently that was grounds for disqualification as well. That left the two guys, one with his scone set way too low, and the other had his at just the perfect height. Guess who won.

Sarah grumbled as she picked herself up off the grass, and collected her consolation prize was it was handed to her--the scone she'd never managed to get her teeth into. She made the quick walk of shame back to Cameron while munching on her treat, which was tasty enough to take some of the edge off of her sullen glower.

"At least it's free food." From his position on the spectator's front line, Cameron had seen enough to empathise with his companion's plight whilst also being thoroughly entertained by it. Arms folded across his chest, he grinned at Sarah as she approached and gestured his head, chin-first, towards something behind her. "Looks like you might make front page news too."

It was an assumption but not an unreasonable one. Off to the side, caught between an attempt not to intrude and utter failure to remain inconspicuous, a hunched figure seemed somewhat overdressed for the role of official photographer and yet perhaps it could be argued that a Halloween event was ripe for a full ensemble of tweed. The high collar, complete with tie-knot, was a nice touch and there wasn't going to be any need to guess where the woman's waist was judging by the precise amount of tailoring in each flat-ironed pleat. The tumble of ginger curls from beneath a perched and pinned boater presented enough reason on its own to draw a second glance but it was difficult to deny that, even amongst those who had attempted costumes for the event, this elaborate effort stood out firmly in a class of its own. Something about the quality made it unlikely this particular garb had been purchased in a local store. With what appeared to be a vintage camera frozen in anticipation, the woman was busily squinting through a pair of round glasses, occasionally lowering it as an oblivious local walked blithely across her field of view. Thus far, she had presented as far too polite to call them out for it.

Cameron raised his eyebrows and tried not to appear too enthusiastic. "Bet she got some really flattering shots."

I bet she did. Sarah thought... near murmured to herself as she wondered how bad any recent photos of her would be. The one of her tripping over her own feet and cartwheeling to the ground? The one of her trying to extricate herself from the girl pile she'd ended up in with the young lady competing next to her? Or perhaps her walk of shame to collect her consolation prize? In truth she didn't really care. After all, she had come with the intended purpose to make a fool of herself, hadn't she?

"Who is she?" Sarah asked, with a subtle yet noticeable lilt of interest that bordered on fascination as she turned to face her companion. She dared not stare too long or too openly at her newest person of interest, though anyone observant enough--especially another woman--would see the motions of a young woman going through her pre-flirt checklist. A subtle tug at the waist of her skirt to get it to sit just a few millimeters higher? Check. Smooth her sweater out over her form? Check. Shift her satchel so it complemented the previous two steps? Check. Make a casual yet practiced show of tugging out her ponytail and running a hand through to fluff out her hair? Double check.

Sarah stopped short of striking a pose. She always wanted to strike a pose, but was so very bad at them and had trained herself to resist the habit. The knowledge that there were cameras out and trained in her general direction was enough to resist the temptation. It was enough that she was facing Cam, giving the fascinating-looking photographer a clear view of what Sarah felt was her best viewing angle.

And giving her sidekick for the evening a front-row view of a slightly failed attempt at casual nonchalance. With a mind prone to moving at a speed that left it out of sync with the people around him, Cam could perhaps be accused of being a little too fast for the uptake at times, but if there was one consistent it was his genuine desire to see those around him happy and content. This didn't always translate to a particularly peaceful approach when it came to assisting them with such a lofty aspiration; he wasn't a font of good advice when it came to relationships but he was a great wingman, if what you wanted from one was complete and utter mortification.

"I think the only way to answer is to introduce ourselves, right?"

Swift as always, he was well past Sarah and on his way to intercept before there was any chance for a response.

For her part, the photographer appeared blissfully unaware of the attention she'd attracted, or the attempts to garner more. Moving closer made it easier to tell that the whimsical woman was murmuring to herself, at a volume just far enough above a whisper to sound like a sincere attempt at conversation with thin air. Such was life of late that Cameron found himself inclined to hesitate, not all that sure he could dismiss the presence of a companion when he lived with several people capable of masking their presence from prying eyes. It gave Sarah a chance to catch up, even though both were now close enough that an introduction would eventually become inevitable.

At least, maybe. Thus far the redhead hadn't seemed to notice.

"Wider angle, try for all three in the shot." Delicate eyebrows furrowed. "Or single shots, wider zoom. Try to avoid the knees. Include the knees? Varying angle perhaps." The woman, who seemed a little overwhelmed it had to be said, puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled slowly. "Probably should have written down what they were going to do with it all. Oh well, in for penny." As she held the camera up to her face again, proximity made it easier to see the way her features scrunched awkwardly, an entirely exaggerated attempt to simply close one eye so that she could focus.

At that moment Sarah wished she was the kind of person who always carried a camera with her. It would've been a perfect shot of an unsuspecting photographer, taking a photo of another unsuspecting subject. Alas, Sarah was not that kind of person. But that didn't mean that she couldn't imagine that she was. She made a shushing gesture with a finger over her mouth to Cameron as she made a show of reaching into her messenger bag. She pulled nothing out, but acted as if she had a camera in her hands. She made a show of holding up the imaginary camera and lining up the perfect shot, but after a moment she seemed to realize how crazy she looked and dropped the charade.

Blushing, Sarah's courage abandoned her as she struggled to figure out what to do or say. Interrupting would be rude, and just standing there would be weird. Plus the longer they stood there, the more awkward it would be, and if they did ever speak Cameron would instantly figure out she was gay. She glanced at her friend, then floundered about looking for an exit like Beaker from Sesame Street on fire. There didn't seem to be one, though. There was a crafts booth to her right, and a couple assisting their young child with untied shoelaces behind her. The only two remaining directions would lead her right into Cameron, or the cute photographer lady. For a man capable of superhuman speed, her friend seemed to be awfully slow at making way for her to flee.

"Excuse me."

The look of utmost open-hearted hospitality on Cameron's face was so perfectly crafted, so gloriously bold in a moment fraught with varying degrees of chaotic disarray on both sides, that it instantly called into doubt if figuring out she was gay was a concern perhaps a little late to the party. Unfortunately for Sarah, the mechanic had just spent the better part of three years befriended to someone living reasonably out of the closet. It wasn't a guarantee that he'd picked up on all the tells, but it did mean that most of his recent attempts at public mortification failed to adhere to typical heterosexual parameters. He was smiling broadly as the ginger-haired artist looked up, astonished by the attention, and instantly found a way to walk forward that insisted Sarah shuffle just ahead of him, shoulder pushing against her back.

"I hope we're not interrupting," Cameron continued, "but my friend was just noticing that we haven't met yet."

"Oh." The fluttered of lashes, the colour of autumn leaves beneath the slightest hint of mascara, conveyed a discreetly contained confusion before the woman seemed to gather her composure. Her smile, though still utterly bewildered, at least chased away any concerns over offense taken for the intrusion on what was clearly work time. "No, we likely haven't been introduced." The expressive eyes flitted then to Sarah's face, named the main culprit behind the exchange, and hovered there expectantly. Even this close, it was a sweet face, devoid of guile, and currently quite mystified to have garnered any attention at all. "Hello there."

Locking eyes with the pretty woman in front of her, Sarah found herself in a situation she was wholly unaccustomed to, as this was not the way she used to meeting women. Her preferred tactic was to hang back and observe, then move in and attempt an appropriate introduction, which of course depended on many variables (such as the time, place, and of course, the girl). She was usually not particularly shy about this, though sometimes she pretended to be. After only a few seconds of interaction, she could usually tell if there was any chance of romantic interest. Sarah could of course simply use her powers to achieve the same effect, but it felt like a brute force tactic, even though her potential love interest would feel none the wiser. Plus relying on her powers was not always beneficial. They might allow her to sense attraction, but they could blind her to other observations that often formed an early base of compatibility.

In simplest terms, Sarah was an experienced, lesbian slut.

With that under her resume, the librarian struggled with the wholly different scenario of having a wingman maneuver her into a... well, certainly not a dogfight. Though kind, gentle and well-meaning, she was used to the tactics of an ambush predator. But this was a meet-cute. Ugh. Cameron would pay for this.

"I'm Sarah, and this is Cameron." And you are the most interesting person here. Sarah's eyes finished saying the rest, after her voice got their names out of the way.

"Ah, yes. Yes. Lovely to meet yo....oh, there he goes."

There was little to disguise the woman's utter bewilderment as Cameron, dipping his head and affecting a low bow, turned and made his way back into the crowd in search of food. The intention was, of course, to remove himself as the potential third wheel but, in a slightly more selfish sense, he was interested to see who else was in attendance and particularly if anyone specifically familiar had caved to childish nostalgia and put in an appearance. Ditching Sarah hadn't been on the cards but now that there seemed a perfectly respectful angle to it, it seemed almost bad manners not to.

Ginger-Curls blinked after him, perplexed.

"Goodness, I don't normally put people off quite that quickly. I hope the two of you are not..." Common decency seemed to catch up with the woman, who flushed a criminally perfect shade of pink and lowered her gaze. "Well, none of my business really."

"No, we're not... we're just friends." Sarah said with some hesitation and momentary annoyance. How dare that man! But perhaps she should be thanking him, as at least now there would be no obvious witnesses to... whatever this was shaping up to be. She looked around for a moment, as if to see where Cameron had run off to, but really she was looking to see if anyone was looking her way. Thankfully no one appeared to be looking at them specifically.

"You'll have to forgive him." The librarian continued, and almost added. He's still learning the fine art of knowing what to do or say to make a lady feel special. She wasn't quite that catty, however vexed she might have felt about his sudden disappearance. Sarah, however, considered herself quite good at knowing what to do or say, though the actual truth of this was of course debatable.

As if by instinct, Sarah stepped forward and gently reached out toward the still-unnamed woman. "Here, you've got some..." She said, trailing off, as she collected some leaves that had fallen onto the photographer while she was scouting for shots. They'd gotten tangled in where the woman's hair spilled out over the collar of her tweed jacket. One leaf was yellow and the other was orange, contrasting perfectly with her red hair. Sarah brazenly tucked the orange one into the woman's breast pocket of her jacket, and kept the other in her hands (she intended to tuck it away into a book later when no one was looking).

"Would you like a coffee or tea?" The librarian said with her best ambiguously coy smile as she pointed toward a nearby booth, where one of the local cafes had set up temporary shop for the festivities. "Or we can share one, if you'd like to keep your hands free for that perfect shot..." Sarah's coy smile became decidedly less ambiguous at that. She couldn't even believe what she was saying, really. She studied and observed and sometimes used her powers before making these sorts of advances, but the woman before her could be wearing a wedding ring for all the observing she'd managed so far. She was actually quite terrified.

Meanwhile, the perpetually-unnamed woman seemed momentarily startled, which would have been close to the only expression she'd managed so far but for the sudden radiance of a slowly dawning smile. It didn't entirely relieve the mystified look in her eyes but it went a long way to animating her beyond the emotional range of a stunned mullet. If nothing else, the flattery seemed not to be lost on her, nor the novelty, perhaps, of being invited to make a new acquaintance. Something about her delighted astonishment suggested this was not a common occurrence.

"Tea would be lovely," she breathed. Several seconds of starstruck silence followed before a penny seemed to land suddenly after a very long fall. "I'm Dee, by the way." She hovered over the detail as a hummingbird might consider its next blossom. "And you're Sarah." Aside from reassuring that she had been listening earlier, this reiteration did very little to ease the mounting impression that the woman was some sort of fey creature who'd ridden in on the last leyline. She had already hung the camera around her neck, however, and evidently having mustered enough composure to properly engage in communication, suddenly seemed to come alive.

"So," her voice wove between the chatter of those around them, "do you live around here?"

Sarah acknowledged Dee's introduction with a smile, and invitation for the camerawoman to join her as she shifted to face the cafe booth. And as she finally looked subtly at Dee's fingers for a wedding ring, she pondered her answer to her question, and quickly decided not to dwell too long on what effects residing at a boarding school might have on her love life. Problems for tomorrow... not today!