zenderael_rl | [EVENT]

"Yup, everything's fine," he answered easily. His eyes settled on her gyro. Ah, fuck, that looked really good. Maybe he should go grab one for himself. Did he want to spend the money...? He'd already paid for Lindsey and Sam to eat, but he'd refrained because he couldn't make up his mind.

His mind was definitely making itself up right now, though.

"Just felt like getting away from the crowd for a bit." All his friends were so high energy, and the only one who wasn't had her excitable six-year old in tow. "Where'd you pick that up?" He nodded toward the gyro.

"There are a lot of people here," she said, stating the obvious in such a way that it didn't seem quite as obvious until she'd said it. She wasn't used to it at all, preferring to avoid crowds, disliking proximity, particularly with unknown peoples. (Which was... everyone.) It was... a little overwhelming, really. "It should be a little easier to move now that the crowds have come through..."

She looked to her food in something like surprise, as though she'd forgotten she had it. "Oh..." Where had she gotten it? It'd been a bit of a whirlwind coming in, but she'd settled on it because of the tomatoes on it and finding herself to be in a tomato sort of mood. "One of the first tables, I think," she said distantly, peering over the crowd. She'd taken up temporary residence towards one of the main hallways that lead to an alternate entrance. Most people seemed to be clustered by the main entryway. Without looking back to him, she walked off to try and find it again, as though expecting him to follow along.

"You knew all of them?" she asked without preamble, meaning the people in the van.

It didn't sound like stating the obvious to him. It sounded like an expression of discomfort. She didn't strike him as the kind of person who liked crowds much. He could sympathize. He dealt with people well (...most of the time), but it still drained him. "Yeah, thankfully it's cleared up a bit," he agreed.

He followed her without question, assuming she was leading him toward said table. Theresa was a straightforward kind of person like that.

"Huh?" came out first, before he realized what she was asking. "Most of them. Not those three in the back, but Mal, Gabe, Lindsey, and Sam are all friends of mine."

"Is Greek food really that good?" she asked wonderingly, maybe even with some dismay, not even really considering the emotional benefits of such a gathering, since they were not generally beneficial to her. Introverts disperse!

She took in the names, not having been paying much attention to who was who. She had a long stride, but she slowed down when there were more people around them, keeping her attention to the tables. He knew a lot of people here. "But you aren't from here?" she continued, pausing as she came up to one table and then stood by it. "Here."

She shifted her hands then, with a moment's consideration, took another bite. Yes, definitely in a tomato mood. She hadn't considered how much good food there was in the city.

"I think so." He glanced around at the crowded space. "Plenty of people seem to agree."

He stopped with her at the table, looking up to see that it was the right one. Damn, and there was a line, too. Oh well. He moved into it, expecting her to stand with him. "No, I'm from Texas," he answered. "Austin area. I'm only here for school."

Fair point. She seemed to settle a little with that observation, not quite so distracted or seeming about ready to walk away, which in all honesty she had and had probably been the reason she'd wandered off to a less crowded area to begin with.

She settled into the line with him without thinking about it, simply stopping beside him when he stopped and moving with him as the line moved. "You sister as well?" A pause. "Here for school," she clarified.

He gave her a curious look before remembering that Lindsey had asked after Missie on the ride over. That was how Theresa knew he had a sister. "Nah, my sister got a job up here. She graduated from nursing school last year, she's working at the hospital. ER, night shifts."

She merely met his look with one of neutral interest, waiting for the answer, taking another bite of her gyro. She'd been quiet, but she'd been at least partially listening.

"Does it run in the family? Medical studies?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it, considering the question a moment longer. He'd been about to say no, not really, but then he realized just how many relatives he had who were in some form of medically-related science. It really wasn't just himself and Missie.

"I guess so," he answered, tone making it clear this was something he'd only just realized. "Not a lot of us are hands on like Missie, though. Mostly research oriented."

His turn, finally. He gave her a quick glance before stepping forward to order his gyro, and returned to her once he had it in hand. "You want to head back to a quieter spot?"

She nodded, with a soft hum of acknowledgement that would have gotten lost in the crowd had she not been standing next to him. She fell silent after that, her curiousity sated for the moment.

When he rejoined her, she was nearly done her own food. "Yes," she said, without her usual pause of consideration, taking the last bite carefully- all the sauce had gone into the bottom of the wrapper.

"Your parents as well?" she continued, as though she hadn't paused, once they had seperated themselves from the crowd.

That was fine with him. He led the way back to the hallway where he'd found her, taking a few bites out of his gyro along the way. It wasn't exactly a secluded spot, but it was away enough from the crowd for him to feel comfortable there.

The sudden continuation of conversation after a period of silence didn't bother him. The silence didn't feel awkward, and the question didn't feel like an uncomfortable attempt to break it. "Nah, not my parents," he answered. "They're both ranchers."

They matched each other's stepped, not exactly slow but without any unwarranted haste, two people that knew where they wanted to go and simply got there. She stepped aside to throw her wrapper in the garbage, pleased that she'd gotten none of it on her hands, though she double-checked her front just in case.

The answer earned him a curious look. How much family did he have, then? Not even thinking to take into account the possibility of aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents, or anything else of that ilk. "Cows?..."

He stopped when he decided they'd gone far enough, leaning his shoulders against the wall--and then stopping to rethink that when his rifle bumped the plaster. He still wasn't quite used to carrying the thing around like this. He wouldn't even have bothered if not for the fact that practically everyone else in the city was carrying a weapon of their own.

The question made him slightly uncomfortable, shifting his weight and glancing away before he answered. "Emu..." It was always kind of shameful to admit.

She blinked when he backed up briefly from the wall, as though just noticing the rifle behind him. For a moment she seemed perplexed as to why he even had it, before either the answer kicked in or she decided she didn't really care. She paused a moment, then leaned against the wall as well the same way.

At the word emu, a clear look of distaste crossed over her face. She wasn't a big fan of birds in general, but big flightless ugly ones were definitely not on the list of tolerable things. "Oh," she said. "...why?" Because why would anyone want a farm full of them?

It was uplifting to see that reaction. The fact that she shared no love for emu was a point in her favour. "Meat, leather, down, feathers, there's a lot of shit you can get from an emu. It's a pretty popular beef alternative, too." He didn't sound particularly invested in the explanation, because he wasn't. "I hate the damn things, though."

The look didn't quite go away. People ate them, too? She didn't want anything to do with an emu ever, but maybe she ready had? That just made it worse. "I'm not surprised," she said, the disgust in her voice bringing a certain shine to her British accent, as only disgust could.

"But neither of you are taking the ranch after?"

"Nope," and he sounded glad for it. "Steve's the only one who cares, so Steve gets it." A bite, a pause. "Steve's my little brother," he added, realizing she needed some context for that.

There was a brief silence on her part, trying to figure something out, before she finally asked, in the slow way of a person unsure if they want the answer, "how many siblings do you have?" Because it was a little like a clown car for her, with all these names popping up.

"Six," he said, like it wasn't even anything worth mentioning. If he noticed her hesitant tone, he gave no sign of it. "All younger, one brother, five sisters." Thankfully, he wouldn't name them off unless she asked him to.

No, no, that was quite all right. The number alone caught her off guard, and she looked at him again, perhaps dumbfounded, a moment before she said simply, "ah," with no idea how to proceed. People still had that many children?

Ah, and she was keeping him from his food. She relented into silence, her shoulders still touching the wall behind them, her hands folded comfortably in front of her. There wasn't really anyone for her to recognize but she liked to watch people from a distance, and this seemed ideal for it.

He let them fall into a comfortable silence, content to concentrate on his food until one of them settled on something else to talk about.

Reclassifying Theresa under "decent company" was definitely a good choice.

He did finally settle on a question and looked to her, his gyro half-eaten by now, to ask, "You have any siblings?"

She didn't look back to him to answer his question, eyes still lazily scanning the crowd. "No," she said distantly, shifting to reach up and pull her hair off of her shoulders. "I was an only child." A beat. "No emus."

He chuckled at that. "No emus," he repeated. "Good."

But being an only child had always sounded lonely to him. Sure, sometimes he hated coming from such a large family, but he wouldn't trade any of his sisters for the world, and Missie was one of the most important people in his life. "You ever get lonely, not having any siblings?" he asked.

"Not at all common in England," she clarified, not for comedic effect though it could be taken as such. She recalled a school trip that had visited the London Zoo where there had been emus and ostriches. They still stuck out as being repulsive animals.

At his question she did look back to him, green eyes blinking once as she thought on her answer with a blank expression. "...I don't know," she said after a moment's consideration, looking towards the floor. "No, I don't think I was." She'd gone to several homes with other children, but had, by nature, ignored them. Even her time at the orphanage had been spent largely on her own. She couldn't even imagine the faces of the people she'd lived with.

She hadn't even thought on them until now, since she'd left.

He was taking a bite when she answered, making it obvious when he paused for a brief moment at the answer she gave, his eyes flickering to her before he continued.

'I don't know' was a strange thing to say to that, he felt. And there seemed to be a hint of emotion in the way her gaze turned downward.

He chewed, swallowed. "Sorry. If that was a bad thing to ask."

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