Application for George (Georgina) Grainger; Rob Thurman's Nightlife/Moonshine

[girl_george]

A petite girl made her way into the sorting room, wearing a plain, white-strapped summer dress and thong sandals. The only other accessories were a cloth rucksack hanging from a shoulder and a leather chord tied around her wrist. Copper curls that once dangled in a wave past her shoulders had been brutally sheared a couple months before, and now

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[robinthepuck]

There was really little reason why Robin had stopped by the Sorting Room that day. He'd not been particularly interested in meeting new people, and bribes didn't tempt him. In short, he was restless, bored - not a good thing for a puck to be.

He also missed New York, though he wouldn't admit it for the world. It didn't bode well, him missing a place. Missing people. Not when everyone and everything around him would fade into dust; this was a lesson he should have learned by now. And yet.

But he was lured, by some irresistible force, into the room, and stood still with shock when he heard a familiar voice. With a smile devoid of any of its usual leering or mockery - in fact, only echoing with a delight rarely seen on Robin's features - he made his way swiftly over to the girl to pick her up in a sweeping hug.

"George."

((If Robin!hugs are not ok, feel free to have Georgie step back. :p And YAY! I LOVE HER. :D))

[girl_george]

((Robin!hugs are more than welcome! If Robin didn't make the move, George probably would have made a flying psychic tackle to him, anyways.))

George giggled as she held out her arms like she was a much younger girl; but who could blame her when meeting old friends? Although it had been only a month or two for the psychic since the two of them had last spoke, it wasn't uncommon for George to treat every new meeting like a well-cherished reunion. When she was lifted up she let her legs dangle, sandals falling to the ground with a clatter. The fact that she was no doubt expecting this did little to but a hamper on her enthusiasm.

"I missed you," she said into his ear, not bothering with 'how have you been' or 'what are you doing here'. Nice points for conversation, especially if that's what her friend wanted to talk about, but rhetorical questions seemed very silly at the moment.

[robinthepuck]

Her words sent a smile bursting along Robin's face. It was a strange feeling - to be missed. But as strange as it might have been, the puck had no doubt she spoke truthfully. If George said she had missed him, she had; the girl was utterly without guile, as pure as the streams of Robin's youth. "I haven't been missed in a thousand years," he said, teasing. "You'll flatter me, my dear."

Setting her down carefully, Robin then reached up and tugged gently on one shorn corkscrew curl. A flicker of sorrow crossed his face, but his smile never died. "And you look as lovely as ever, George." Her badge of honor, that haircut, and Robin felt the responsiblity of his brethren's work like a keen jab. Hobgoblin might be gone, but his mark remained, and for that Robin felt a sense of responsibility. Misplaced, yes, but there nonetheless.

"And to what does Hogwarts owe the honor?" Hope spilled out in his voice, barely restrained. Surely she couldn't be there to stay?

[girl_george]

"It's not flattery if it's true," George gently pointed out, continuing to give Robin her seemingly bulletproof smile. And Robin was right about deception not coming natural to her. Perhaps partly due to her gift and partly due to her character, she seemed to stand as an antithesis to lies. It's fitting that the last time she did so, the world risked coming to an end.

George did not connect Robin to Hob for one second. Robin was one of her saviors, and not only of her. He with Promise pulled Cal back from the brink of... So. Such a thing was completely anti-intuitive. And that's even if George didn't communicate through a manner that completely disregarded little things like blood and matter for spirit. But even if George didn't catch that flicker of sorrow, she knew that unfair guilt could very well be within the opaque Puck. And she did not have to be a psychic to know that. She would have to do what she could to make sure his head was back in the right place as soon as she could

[invisibleclaude]

"Rather cheery, aren't you?" Claude asked with a snort. Arms shoved into the pockets of his long jacket, he studied George for a minute. "No one feels that much bloody goodwill and sunshine unless they're simple or selling something. So either you're naive, stupid, or lying. Which is it?"

[girl_george]

George returned the greeting Claude probably wouldn't agree he made. "Hello." She continued to sit in her chair, resting a palm on the table. Rather than reacting with offense, she seriously considered Claude's question, as if it was one from the application, or even a Sphinx's riddle. It only took a second for her to come to a conclusion.

She gave the stranger a playful look. "I don't think I can properly answer your question. If I was naive I wouldn't know it, if I was stupid I wouldn't choose correctly, and if I was lying, you wouldn't be able to trust my answer."

[invisibleclaude]

For a second Claude stared at her. Then, amazingly, he laughed, a genuine smile crossing his face. "And if you were truthful," he contemplated wryly, "you'd be too rare to be believed."

Against the grain of seven years but completely falling into the man he'd been before, Claude held out his hand in greeting. The pleasantries failed him and so he simply offered his smile, apologetic at his ineptitude. It'd been far too long since he'd been real to anyone not trying to kill him or begging him for help.

[girl_george]

George's smile widened into one that matched Claude's laughter. She happily took his hand with a sense of being honored, knowing that that it wasn't a gesture the man gave frequently. Again, not because she's psychic; she's just not stupid.

"I'm pleased to meet you. I'm called George." She looked around the sorting hall, and simply stated, "This is very different from New York." She didn't whisper, but somehow her words left the impression that it was an observation saved to be shared with just the two of them.

[ostianespionage]

"Helping with our problems, huh?" Matthew raised an eyebrow cynically. "You know, that could mean a lot of things. Some people are genuinely convinced that life would be so much better if they just took over the world."

[girl_george]

George nodded, turning solemn. "Yes, you're right." She had unfortunately come into contact with those sorts a few too many times in her short life. Sometimes before they even had such a notion in their own heads about what monsters they would be. And she knew that she would meet with much more, shortly.

"I am careful with what I do. I have to be."

[ostianespionage]

Matthew held up his hands. "Hey, hey, sorry. Didn't mean to imply anything." This was an outright lie. "I just... don't trust appearances much. I don't assume a pretty woman can't be up to something." I worked with Leila, after all.

[girl_george]

George smiled, shaking her head. "I wasn't offended. It's important to ask questions like those, or else who would?" She remained light and airy in her conversation. "But I promise not to be complicit in any plans for world domination."

Her smile turned into a grin, and she held out a hand for Matthew to shake on it.

[earthto_mars]

(( Mercedes Mercedes Mercedes Mercedes! *grabby fingers* ...Um. Hi! XD ))

"Cheesecake? Not an option?!" This could not be passed over with a simple wave of the hand! "Egads, of course it's an option for the cheese question!" I threw both arms up into the air, rather excitably. "If not for the sole fact that it has 'cheese' in the name...!"

Don't get too crazy, Mars. You'll scare away the children.

"Anywho." I jutted out one of said flailing hands. Handshake? More normal? "Veronica Mars. Apparent cheesecake advocate."

[girl_george]

(( XD I was looking desperately for PBs and having no luck, since George is basically a product of many different ethnicities, topped with curly red hair and freckles. And then I caught I shot of a model, and I was all, Mercedes! And she fit almost perfectly and now there's proof I'm a giant dork. But she totally should have won her season, so in a sense I feel like I'm doing my part. Ok, NOW there's proof I'm a giant dork.))

George happily took it, giving it an earnest shake. "George Grainger. Traitor to cheesecake, not because I loved cream cheese less, but because I loved brie more." She gently released the hand; George was cheerful to meet almost anyone, but especially someone who shared her experiences in looking up when talking far more times than what was fair.

"Sorry, I studied Julius Caesar for my finals."

[earthto_mars]

((Oh, yeah XD Mercedes >>>>> Yoanna, yo. At any rate. Yay!))

Brie? I could have scoffed! I could have! Because cheesecake? Being rivaled by something with a moldy rind? Forgiving the fact that all cheeses are aged and mold. Technically. But! Never mind. Cheesecake: in a league of its own. At least there was a nice delivery!

"Ahhh," I tapped my head in recognition. "Et tu, Brute? With the brie, oy."

[girl_george]

"I didn't consider cheesecake as cheese; if it were actual cheese-cake, it would not be nearly so popular, except with mice and game-show hosts. So instead I was left with the cream cheese ingredient, which I would most likely want to avoid eating by itself." George wrinkled her nose at the thought, and laughed.

"But I promise to make up for the insult by eating more cheesecake than wise later. And so falls George."

[bantersucks]

((Think I already ran this by you, but it's OK for George to notice there are two minds here and that one isn't human. I guess the scarab comes off as neutral or wild, if good/neutral/evil distinctions matter here. Can he notice she's different, if only in passing?))

There's finally a break in the parade of weirdness, and Jaime's leaning against a wall when he notices there's someone else in here, writing an application by hand. Which, if he was smart, he would have done instead of allowing it to capture all of his one-sided conversations. Live and learn.

He picks up the application and grins at the answer to question #2. "I don't think anyone's gonna kill you for telling it like it is," he offers. "'Cause Barney and Carrot Top in the same room really would be that bad."

[girl_george]

Yes, George had immediately noted the two beings in one that Jaime seemed to represent. But she did not explore further. The girl held control over her gift with an iron will that few would believe was beneath an appearance, personality, or aura that was nothing if not soft. There were certain things she cleaved to, and one of them was a clear, if personally constructed, sense of ethics. She would not violate someone as to read them without their permission, and limited her knowledge to the moments of intuition and imagery which she could not avoid.

She was not alarmed by the boy. She knew that she was to meet people here who were as outside the norm as she was, or the company she kept, and was looking to it optimistically, as was her way. "Oh, yes," George answered, but rolled her eyes in self-deprecation. "But the puns, the puns. I'm sorry." She didn't look sorry.

[bantersucks]

((Switching to past tense because hey, it's not his app.))

Jaime wasn't alarmed by her either. Pretty sure she was special herself (who wasn't around here, seriously?) and the scarab, thrown for a loop courtesy of a Ron-induced existential crisis, was just scanning for the hell of it and not bothering with the threat assessment for once. Which made Ron completely awesome in Jaime's book.

"Nah, don't be. Too many people try to sugarcoat the truth to make it less painful, and don't prepare you for the harsh reality. The puns are painful, but they're an integral part of why Carrot Top's an option there." Maybe her serenity was catching, because for the first time since getting dumped in the Sorting Room, he was starting to finally relax. "Anyway, hi. I'm Jaime. Nice to meet you."

[girl_george]

Part of George's duty at times was to deliver unhappy truths. They weren't sugarcoated, but George's calm words could ease the pain as she also provided for her acceptor a larger picture lined vivid and radiant paints. Playful irony with both sides getting the joke was one thing, but when it came to Truth, George was a rabid disciple that made Plato seem wishy-washy.

So when she nodded at Jaime's statement, she wasn't only doing so out of amusement. She stood up from her chair to rest against the table. "Hello, I'm George. It's nice to meet you as well." Her frequent grin appeared. "How are you enjoying this, so far?"