Oswaldo nearly did a bow. He'd seen it happen in a show once, and he'd always assumed that if he ever managed to get a girl interested in him, he'd treat her like the princess she deserved to be. But instead he did an awkward head bob, easily missed as he went for his bag, hastily packing up his thi...

Oswaldo could feel his mouth flop open and the flush on his cheeks increase. His stomach seemed to ignite with butterflies. How had this happened? He tried to swallow, but he couldn't manage it. How... how had this happened? He needed to look away from Naomi, before it got weird. He had to- he- HOW ...

Oswaldo was acutely aware of the fact that he was blushing. He raised his good hand, brushing his cheek, desperately wishing that he could just knock the red out of them. Oh, this was a disaster. This was an utter disaster. And the day had started so well too. A lazy chemistry lesson that he easily ...

"Well, it would get irritating. Yeah. I guess. But like..." He trailed off his face turning quizzical as he stumbled over his own words. What was he trying to say? "I mean like. If someone was looking at me, and I didn't like them, then it would get irritating. Because like... if they...

"Snails? You've tried snails before?" Os smiled, turning in his seat so he could talk to Naomi more. Thankfully, the conversation was going easier and Naomi herself was proving fun to talk to. He'd only talked to Naomi in class before, or said a brief hello in the hallways. A part of him h...

Oswaldo lowered his sandwich, scratching at the back of his head. Despite his best efforts, a bit of skittish panic crept into his action and smile. Was she making fun of him? No. Oswaldo had been made fun of for most of his life- he knew what it was like. Naomi was a different breed. She was well-m...

(Oswaldo Marx continues from Cicada Nights) No one understood him. Sure, they said they did. They said it was alright to be different, but that was the company line. Everyone was just... politically correct. They said a lot of things, but behind his back, he knew they were really just mocking him. H...

[No worries! Sorry this is rather late. And a bit on the shorter side.] Mike nodded his head, eagerly scrounging for his wallet. "Yeah, let's get some grub." Mike said, pulling out his loose change. "Shit," He hissed under his breath, counting the small coins as fast as he could....

Mike gave Dawson a wave as she departed, watching her bounce away toward her work with enough blind enthusiasm to give the entirety of Aurora's cheerleading squad a run for their money. "Later!" He called out, even as Dawson vanished in the lunchroom crowd. I wonder if she'll actually fini...

Dawson screamed so loudly in his ear, that Mike thought he'd broken an ear drum at first. Flinching back initially, Mike couldn't hide his grin as Dawson proceeded to yammer on about getting murdered by government spooks, tied to a rock at the bottom of the Elliot Bay. Mike wasn't fully sure if Daws...

Ohhhh boy. Survival of the Fittest. Now that was a fun topic to discuss. While Mike didn't believe his government contained just that much raw malice, he'd often thought about the terrorist attacks. In this day and age, who didn't know about them? There were still so many questions, and the few sur...

Oh God how have I found myself in this situation. Mike scratched his head, his face turning red. Well shit. Dawson had taken the poem at face value. It was apparent that while Dawson was a nice girl, she didn't exactly... function at the same level as him when it came to sarcasm and political revol...

Mike blinked for a moment, stunned to silence by Dawson's words. He worked it over in his mind, confused for a moment more before the realization struck him. "Ohh..," She has absolutely no idea what I am talking about. Interesting start. While it was clear that Dawson possessed bucket load...

Mike wasn't all that familiar with Dawson. They'd shared an Art course a few semesters back... Grade Ten? Eleven? Maybe Nine? In all honesty, Mike couldn't remember much, except for the fact that they hadn't talked much. He didn't figure it for a bad thing. Hell, he couldn't think of a situation whe...

((Mikko "Mike" Korhonen ---> START)) Mike Korhonen sat, pen in hand, a grimy pad of paper in front of him. His hands were stained with ink and he rubbed his finger tips together thoughtfully, a low hum emanating from his throat. He stretched his back, slinking down farther in his chair, ki...