For Carla Jean

[ferretface_git]

It was becoming increasingly clear that he'd lost all direction in his life.

While he'd managed to survive on Darrow's meager stipend, but it was a bare sort of existence, and while he'd had years on the island to become accustomed to such a life, he felt oddly dissatisfied and directionless in his leisure.

That afternoon, he found himself standing in front of a coffee shop bulletin board, perusing fliers and advertisements, lost pets and calls for roommates. On the board, he found an announcement of art classes at the community college; in particularly, glass blowing. He'd been self taught, largely, but it was a reminder of a life he'd left behind on the island, and skills he'd assumed he'd never need again. With a frown, he tore from the flier one of the little information tabs, a time and address and required fees.

He didn't particularly plan to use it, but he found himself unable to ignore it, all together, and distracted by his nostalgia, he turned blindly, unmindful of whomever might've been standing behind him.

Comments

[refusedtocall]

"Hey, careful," Carla Jean says, a warning rather than an admonishment, as she takes a quick step back, mostly to avoid spilling the coffee she's just purchased. Ordinarily, she'd think it a little excessive, spending so much on an overpriced drink when she can just make coffee in her apartment, but she'd been out already, and in this weather, a cold rain falling steadily, she thinks it's pretty called for. "Somethin' on there distracting?"

[ferretface_git]

There was something gratingly American about her accent, but still, he saw an odd glimpse of Lyra in her face. Perhaps it was her coloring, or her size, or simply that he'd been thinking about his old friend, more often that usual.

Still, the reminder of her absence certainly didn't make him feel friendlier.

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

[refusedtocall]

"Well, you were lookin' at it pretty intently," Carla Jean points out, unfazed by his response. It hardly matters anyway, nothing she's at all invested in, if only because she's prevented her coffee from spilling. If anything, she's more curious about why her asking would seem like such a big deal, though to avoid talking in circles, she doesn't say so. "Seein' as you could've bumped into me, hard not to wonder."

[ferretface_git]

"Well, unfortunately, I happen not to have ability to see someone hovering right at my back," he snapped, though it was more out of habit than any real anger.

Gesturing to the flier with a put upon sigh, he said, "It got me thinking, is all. Of another life."

[refusedtocall]

Carla Jean only raises a brow at the way he snaps, torn between being unimpressed and amused, though it's only the former she lets show. It mostly wins out, anyway. Whatever's got him so short-tempered, she doesn't know, but that sort of thing has never really gotten to her.

At the last part, though, she softens just a little, all but imperceptibly. "Somethin' before this place?" she asks. It's a guess, but it seems like the best explanation for what he's said.

[ferretface_git]

Truthfully, he hadn't made much of a life here in Darrow. Not one to speak of. Not one to be proud of. And while his parents certainly wouldn't have felt much pride in the humble life he'd built on the island, he'd quite enjoyed it, in his way.

"Before this place," he murmured, a bit distracted by the memory. Finally, he looked at her, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You're not from here, I take it."

[refusedtocall]

"No, I'm not," Carla Jean confirms with a shake of her head. Ordinarily, it's not something she broadcasts. She doesn't mind it, and sure as hell wouldn't see the sense in trying to hide it, no matter how weird some of the Darrow natives might get about it, but there's rarely much call to just come out and say it. Knowing that he's not the only one for whom that's the case changes that a little. "I'm from Texas, in the States. An' before this, I was... somewhere a little like it, I guess."

[ferretface_git]

Eyes narrowing knowingly, he said, "And where was that?"

He knew she was likely not to answer him, being a stranger and all, but he'd come across few who'd come from that place, and he couldn't help but be drawn to the idea that there might be more.

[refusedtocall]

"This island," Carla Jean says, shrugging, not about to make too much of it. She isn't sure what the source of his curiosity is, but she also doesn't have any reason not to answer. It's true either way, and she's not the sort to talk around it. "Why?"

[ferretface_git]

"I don't remember you," he admitted, though that didn't mean much. He'd never been particularly friendly with strangers, or very good at remembering names or faces unless it benefited him in some way.

[refusedtocall]

"So you were there too," Carla Jean says, not sounding especially surprised by that. She would have been, a little, the odds of it being pretty slim, but the way he'd asked made her suspect that might have been the case. "I don't remember you, either. I'm Carla Jean."

[ferretface_git]

"Draco," he said, "Draco Malfoy."

He'd long sense given up the urge to present his family name first, as if it held some sort of special meaning.

"Perhaps we were trapped there at different times."

[refusedtocall]

"Could be," Carla Jean says with a shrug. It still doesn't make sense to her, the way time is all out of alignment, but then, it's no stranger than the three decades she somehow skipped over. Weirder things have happened. "How long you been here?"