Catch ya Down in New Orleans {Christopher}

[PICKLE ABREY]

You'd think Pickle would learn by now---but she never really seemed to. Again, she had made too much of whatever she was cooking. Today was beignets. Honestly--she couldn't wait to get her own little cafe. It seemed like her body was already programmed to always make too much, but then again...it was a habit. She lived down in the poor end of New Orleans, the old style shotgun houses where neighbors would hang on the porch and children would play in the streets. And it was often that they'd make beignets for the kids going to school in the morning, or make enough gumbo for the little neighborhood to share. It was because of that, Pickle made far too much.

Though, it did seem to help her friends on grocery bills. She was forever giving out leftovers. And on this particular day, the beignets were still warm. Packed into a large tray with a plastic covering. Sugar had been all over the counter, and the front of her dress until she sweeped it off. After all--if a beignet wasn't messy, it wasn't worth the time. Either way, Pickle had slipped her shoes on, gotten the bits of flour and sugar out of the curls she wore today, and started down the dorm to bring it over to Addison who was studying. They were a perfect study snack, and she could probably use the break.

It was about halfway through the big open field in the middle of the campus. She then saw him. A handsome young boy who just...seemed. Well....off. Pickle chewed on her red lips for a moment. She was just here at Barrie for early admission. Taking a few classes periodically. She even had a little dorm room to herself, and she stayed there a few days out of the week, before going back to Baum. It would make the transition once she graduated much easier as well. Either way--she didn't know these people. But...maybe that was a good thing. They didn't know her weird-girl status back at Baum...so...maybe.

There was no way that she could leave that young man sitting there. He looked sad. Maybe it was none of her business, but beignets were a feel good food. Maybe it would make whatever he was dealing with just that much easier. She lifted the plastic top as she neared him, leaning over in front of him slightly, and offering the bowl, with the crispy, fried dough, generously topped with the powdered sugar. Pickle didn't stand directly in front of him--she was all too aware of how people reacted when her enormous eyes caught someone by surprise.

"I made a few too many, and I was gonna bring some to a friend. But it looks like you can use one a little bit more."

[/color] Pickle had an interesting little drawl. It had a lilt, yet sounded lazy. Not quite twangy, but definitely country. In New York, her accent stuck out like a sore thumb. But back home--that was just a regular sort of accent, the only thing setting her a bit apart were the slight cajun inflictions she picked up from her father, that were present when she spoke a little too quickly. Her Fleur-de-Lys necklace glinted in the sunlight as it dangled off her neck, and she held the bowl out to him a little better for his reach. "They're little powdered donuts, to put it simply. But much better than a dounut."[/blockquote][/blockquote]

Outfit!

[CHRISTOPHER STRONG]

Crippling homesickness was one of those things that Christopher suffered from more than just sometimes. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it considering it’d been awhile since he lost his house. The rest of his family seemed to fit right into New York but he didn’t like it. The skyscrapers felt like a cage and all the pollution just made him sick. He wanted to go back. Everything was getting better now and even his old street was being cleaned up. His parents couldn’t afford to build another house and well, they could barely afford his college with the scholarships. He had to stay if he wanted to get a college degree. But in what? What was he even that good at?

All of this crossed his mind after he just stopped in the middle of Barrie’s grounds to look up at the sky. It was blue, a gorgeous shade of blue that he hadn’t seen in a while. The clouds were a light grey and he causally wondered if it was going to rain. All of these things brought him back to N’orleans. He used to take blue skies for granted and think everyone played great music on the streets. He was such a jaded child really. The rest of the world was much colder and bleak. Their was rarely a friendly face in the city. No one really said hello other than with that one annoyed tone that what just another way of asking them to rudely move your butt. Really, why was everyone in such a hurry?

The questions couldn’t be answered really and he just let his mind wander back to old childhood memories. It wasn’t until the girl was literally right in front of him, did he realize she was actually talking to him. He looked at her with wide eyes as she spoke with a familiar accent. “W-what?” he asked when he heard her offer him a beignet. Maybe he’d do it: wished so hard that by some magic he returned to Louisiana. A quick look around told him otherwise.

He set eyes on the girl again and smiled warmly. “B-Beignets? Thank ya, miss,” he said for once not scared to let his accent slip through. She was an angel, he thought. Long platinum blonde hair pale skin and a sweet smile. She was just a sliver of a thing but he was sure she gave good hugs. He wasn’t sure about her eyes, they seemed to be avoiding his. He made an effort to catch her gaze and found himself shock. They were genuinely striking. Dark blue just like the night sky back home. “M-miss you have the most beautiful eyes,” he said without really thinking. A streak of red appeared on his cheeks and he took a bit of the doughnut before he managed to embarrass himself further. Their taste complete his mental trip back to his home. They were delicious! He took another bite and sighed. “You must be from N’orleans,” he stated, “I haven’t tasted somethin’ this good since I was small. I uhm, I’m Christopher.” An unusual effort on his part to be nice to this girl. He couldn’t help it really, she somehow pulled the old him out right away.

[PICKLE ABREY]

Pickle glanced at him when he looked a little confused. His glance around caused her massive eyes to glance around too, brows furrowing slightly. She hadn't even said the word beignet--but he knew. The accent sounded like home, even in just the little clip out of his voice that she heard. She stood frozen for a moment, and tried to figure out how to process it. Unfortunately--that meant she was staring at him with the inhumanly large eyes. And when he complimented them, a red sheen came across her pale cheeks.

Without asking, she took a seat on the grass, leaning over like she had been had been starting to give her a back ache. She folded her legs to the side, and smoothed out her skirt, resting the bowl in the grass so he could reach them easier. "Born and raised."

[/color] She confirmed, deciding to let the compliment pass. Christian taught her to take it with grace, or say nothing at all. Don't put herself down. Even though that was still the one thing she didn't quite like about herself. "New York is a little fast paced, innit? I figure everyone should slow down a bit and enjoy somethin' good. Tryin' to bring a little bit of home up here." She lifted her head and looked around the area with a small sigh.

New York was...different enough. Sure, downtown New Orleans had their sky scrapers, their buildings. Hell, it was one of the most beautiful sights she'd ever seen--the crescent moon hanging over the city, only able to be seen in full glory when you were down on the Mississippi River. But then you had the French Quarter, a smaller little section of the downtown. Older, not as tall. But no matter where you went in New Orleans, it was easy. Relaxed. Everyone had time to sit down and enjoy a nice jambalaya with friends.

"O-oh! Right. My name's Pickle. It's nice to meet you, Christopher."[/color] Christian had also wanted her to go by Michelle, her actual name. But she had never quite felt like a Michelle, never down to her bones. So, Pickle it was. It kept that strange edge to her, the strangeness she was comfortable with. Just so she didn't feel like an entirely different person. "I'm glad you like 'em. I wanna open up my own little place one day."[/color] She pulled her long, curly hair over her shoulder, and picked up a beignet, and gave it a somewhat dreamy look. Things were changing now--not too long ago, no one would touch the things she made, for fear that they might catch some made-up disease. But as people were quickly beginning to discover, cooking was most definitely her forte. "Crawfish Etouffee, Jambalaya, Seafood Gumbo, Chicken Gumbo, Pork Gumbo." The smile on her face widened, "Beignets and chikory coffee in the mornin'. And the messies Po Boys you'll ever find on this side of the Mississip'." She took a bite into the beignet, crunching into the fried dough, just as another spark of color splashed across her cheeks.

She was rambling, and she knew it. So she ended up taking a little bit too big of a bite, and managed to drop a big of the powdered sugar on her dress. Which in turn made her giggle, and she had to press the back of her hand over her mouth, while she tried to fight down the too large of a bite. The pink in her cheeks darkened. Polished and pretty she may look on the outside--Pickle was still the hopeless dweeb on the inside.[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

Outfit!

[CHRISTOPHER STRONG]

Christopher sat down letting it process that he, yes, had indeed found someone from his hometown. Someone who embraced it too. He was dazzled too by her appearance and that flor de leis on her necklace. Everything about her screamed out to his former self. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t really shy with her like he usually was. Well, quiet. Quiet was nice sometimes though. “It’s somethin’ for sure. Sometimes I wonder how people keep going like that. I reckon no one wants to relax,” he agreed with a nod. Busy, busy streets and no one ever stops to smell the roses. That was a good one, Christopher should write that down. Too bad he left his notebook in his dorm.


“Pickle?” he asked, tilting his head. “Now that sounds like a name with a story.” He grinned and took another bite of the pastry. His eyes lit up at her words. All the foods he missed that his mom always tried her best to make them but it just wasn’t the same. No one ever told her that though. Now they worked so much that he barely got a family meal. Both of his parents seemed to have finally got caught up in the rush. They started to fit in while Christopher was still trying to figure out a way to get back.

“Oh you got some sugar on ya,” Christopher said after it fell. He stopped himself from brushing off her, knowing that’d be a little too much for just meeting the girl. Even if it did bug him. Messy anything bugged him really. He’d let her alone though. Christopher looked down at his own shirt and wrinkled his nose at the powdered mess. Quickly, he brushed it off wanting to take off his sweater. That wouldn’t make sense though, it was only going to get more dirty with him sitting in the grass and oh dear, his pants were going to get grass stains. Christopher tensed up and bit his lip looking away from it all. He decided to focus on the beignets instead. How many were there? One... two... three... four--

“Can I have another one?” he asked suddenly. “I mean, if you have another one to spare.”