(no subject)
=NYC= Mid-Manhattan Public Library - Midtown - Manhattan
The main room of the library branch is simple in its layout: computers that provide internet access as well as partial access to the library catalog system for the entire state of New York, the shelves that house the books, the desk where patrons would take to have the books checked out.
It's not every 20-year old male that you find huddled in a corner of the library thumbing through Charles Dickens. Especially ones in ripped jeans and hooded sweat looking as scruffy as he is today. Leather jacket's been tossed over the back of a chair, which Pyro's forgone in favor of the floor, with his back propped up against the wall behind him as he again delves into the life of young Pip.
Natalie practically haunts libraries, with books under her arms and papers in her bag and comfortable clothes that come in layers for adjusting according to the library's temperatures. She pauses at her favorite workspace-- and finds that it's been taken over. Taken over by /scruff/, no less. She squints down at Pyro and notes pointedly, "They have chairs for a reason."
"What's it to ya?" Pyro glances up, holding his thumb in place as a bookmark. The other rubs at his eyes, readjusting to focusing distances farther than a foot from his face. "'Sides, the floor's a zack more comfortable. These chairs are pretty hard."
"You're at my table," Natalie answers, although she manages to tone down the accusation. She shifts slightly to tilt her hip into the brace of the table at peers at Pyro. "What're you reading."
"Oh." A smart ass comment dies, and Pyro simply shrugs, extending the book cover outward. "Great Expectations. One of my fav'rits. You?"
Natalie blinks, and then blinks again, and there's a small moment of a snorted laugh. "Undergrad, huh?" she judges. "What class is that for?"
"Huh?" Pyro squints, folding his page and setting the book aside. "Oh. Naw, it's not for a class. Been a while since I've had to read for class. Much better when no one's testing you on it."
Natalie shifts slightly to lean fully back against the table, and the look she directs at Pyro is surprised. "You're not in college? How old are you?"
"Twenty," Pyro says, twisting side to side in a quick stretch. "No, not in college. I'd planned to, but, well, shit happens."
"Oh. Oh!" Natalie has the good grace to look mildly embarassed as she studies Pyro, lower lip caught between her teeth. "Yeah. Guess it does."
"So I take it that means you're /not/ an undergrad," he says, shrugging it off. Pyro, it seems, is in a good mood. Or at least a less sullen mood.
"Me? Ah, no. Grad student." Natalie lifts the pile of books under her arm in indication.
"Ah," Pyro comments, peering at the pile of books, looking for a title. "What subject?"
Natalie shifts her armful a touch to allow Pyro to peer at her textbooks. "Math," she answers, and for a moment there's a sign of cheerful chipperness. "Pattern theory."
"Aaaaahhh," Pyro says, settling back into his position against the wall. "One of those /brainy/ types. Well good onya. Never could get my head around the stuff."
Natalie lifts her brows (they arch prettily over the stereotypical frames of glasses) as she watches Pyro. "Brainy types, huh?"
"Anything past Algebra I is greek to me," Pyro says. "Well, Greeki/er/."
"So what," Natalie wonders, dropping her pile to the table. "You work with your hands?"
"Eh, guess you could say that," Pyro says slowly. "Had dreams of being a writer once upon a dark and stormy night. That's what I was gonna suffer the school thing for. Didn't really work out. And you. Gonna teach?"
"Why not?" Natalie wonders impolitely.
"Eh, my parents were in this car crash," Pyro shrugs, his tone matter of fact. There's enough distance between him and the situation now to talk, so it would seem. "Sorta turned my world on its head." Well, either that, or he just likes making people uncomfortable.
"Oh." If it's the latter, it certainly seems to be working, and Natalie shifts a bit against the table. Uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."
"Eh, like I said," Pyro shrugs it off. "Shit happens. Was a few years ago. You learn to move on."
"Yeah." Natalie pauses awkwardly for a moment and then jerks her head toward the table. "You're not gonna use this, then?"
"Knock yourself out," Pyro says, pulling his jacket off the chair and his book out of the way. "You usually ask more questions that you talk about yourself?"
"Huh?" Natalie sends a distracted glance toward Pyro as she settles down in the emptied space and digs into her back, back bent.
"Seems I've just told you my life story, and all I know about you is math," Pyro shrugs. "But yeah, guess I'm just kinda in a gabby mood."
"You didn't ask," Natalie points out as she straightens to settle herself in. "Besides. It's not like 'want to be a writer, parents died in a car crash' is really a life's story."
"Give and take, give and take," Pyro says. "So...questions, then. Are you from New York?"
"Ohio," Natalie provides. "I've been here a few years though." Her gaze shifts, turning to study Pyro after a moment's organization. "You're not from here."
"See, brainy," Pyro says, forming one hand into a gun and pointing it her way. "Aussie at heart, though I've been here...oh, few years now."
Natalie's lips twist at the gun, and for a moment she considers laughing. "A few years? You're only twenty," she points out.
"Aaaand a steeltrap memory," Pyro says. "Went to secondary school here," he continues on to explain, though. "Least the last part of it. New York, what with the publishing and all. So what's Ohio like? Never been."
"I'm a regular genius," Natalie agrees dryly. She blinks for a moment, curiosity bubbling and then checked, and then exhales with a shrug as she replies. "It's nice. I don't know. A lot of cities, a lot of farms. What's /Australia/ like?"
"Well, the water goes down the drain the other way," Pyro says, ticking a few differences off on his fingers. "People talk normal-like. It's ninety degrees at Christmas."
Natalie shivers instantly at the last. "At /Christmas/? That's insane."
"Of course, come June, we're getting snow," he counters. "Well, some parts. Not where I lived. You yanks are just all backwards."
Natalie looks doubtful. "When do you have have break from school?" she wonders.
"Depends on the school," he shrugs. "Unis are usually same as here, though. Easier for exchanges and that kind of stuff."
"So what, you have all winter off?"
"Sorta. Though I think it's closer to what you yanks call quarter system. Some time off winter, some summer, that kind of thing."
"Huh," Natalie answers, and her nose wrinkles. She lifts a hand to shove her glasses back into place. "I never was a fan of quarters."
Pyro says, "Eh, it works. Not as bad when everyone around you's doing it too," he picks up his book, and begins fanning the pages with one thumb. "Where do you go to school?"""
"Columbia," Natalie answers. "We've got semesters."
"Ah. They got a good nuff math program to bring you from Ohio then? What are you working on? Masters?"
"It's Columbia," Natalie answers, and there's a small amount of disbelief in her voice as she says it. Disbelief edges neatly into mild disdain. "Doctorate."
"Yeah, well, I already told you how much I know about math," Pyro says. His head bobs at the mention of doctorate. "Not bad, not bad. But do you know how to replace a carborator?"
Natalie's expression is eloquent in the 'are you seriously playing this game' direction. A twist of her lips and lift of her brows is all Pyro gets in silent response.
Oh, indeed he is. Because she started it. "So. Pattern Math you said? What the hell's that? Explain anything important?"
"Pattern theory," Natalie corrects neatly. She blinks and then adds kindly, "It's difficult to explain."
"So's an engine."
Natalie snorts quietly and lifts a paper in indication. "You want me to find another table so you can read in peace?" she wonders pointedly.
"Pssh. I could probably recite that section in my sleep anyways," Pyro says, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Mostly just wasting a few hours anyways."
"Then perhaps I should find somewhere else so that I can work in peace." Natalie is not particularly subtle.
"Whatever floats your boat," is Pyro's reply. "It's a free country. Least for most people."
"Right." Natalie is swift to gather her things, papers tucked up under her arm as she stands again. She offers Pyro a slight smile and adds, "Enjoy your book."
"And yours," Pyro says, smirking slightly at the stack in her arms. "Quite the pleasure."
In which Pyro starts the conversation fairly polite, then reverts to being an ass. And in which his player pulls stuff out of thin air about the Australian school systems.