Walk In The Park

isabelle_icon.png paul_icon.png sasha_icon.png

Where: Freedom Park

When: April 18, 2012

What: Strangers meet at Freedom park.

Ahhh, another nice warm, dry day in Las Vegas, and at this hour, it's cooled down a bit so that the dry heat is less… scorching. Some of the local fauna aren't too thrilled with all the UV exposure, so they only come out when the sun starts to descend. One such beast is Isabelle, the bespectacled girl who has laid claim to one of the park benches, with a pile of papers and books occupying half the bench. She still has a big fat notebook on her lap, and she's scribbling on it frantically, only occasionally glancing at the book opened right next to herself.

Sasha is in a tank top and running shorts, with sneakers on as she seems to be leaping over benches, railings and trying to do some kind of obstacle course using whatever comes across her path. She goes over one bench, leaps up onto a rail and then uses it to leap over the walkway to land on the other side. She is heading in the general direction of Isabelle's bench.

Heading in the other direction - but toward the same general point of convergence - along a nearby walkway, Paul sticks out like a sore thumb, still dressed in a jacket and tie for all that he's taking advantage of the scenery. "You know what," he says into a cell phone, "we should just go with Plan B now, we'd be cutting it too close if we wait much longer. We can always come back to it once the pressure's off."

Joggers are a common sight around the park, so Isabelle normally doesn't even bat an eye at them. Besides, she's got more important stuff to focus on! It's by chance that she glances up and spots Sasha heading her way - and the woman is actually leaping over stuff? Lapsing into a minor panic, Isabelle instinctively leans down to protect her precious books and papers, as if Sasha's going to crash into her castle of paper! Unfortunately, as soon as she does that, one pile of paper gets knocked over and pages go flying. "NOOO!!!" Isabelle wails as she sees her life's work flying away!

Sasha skids to a stop and blinks, "Here let me help." she says as she moves to help the woman gather the papers that are trying to make an escape. She bites her lip as she does.

For a while, it's Paul's turn to listen instead of talk. For a long while, in fact; the other side is evidently wordier than he is. He does shift the phone to the other side, though, and lean down to pick up one of the papers as it catches on the grass. One down, umpteen more to go…

Of course, Isabelle has a abandoned her stronghold in pursuit of her stray pages, awkwardly chasing after each in her half-crouch. "Nononononono!" She continues to wail as she gives chase, though Sasha's assistance receives a brief glance from Izzy. "Thankyouthankyou. Oh what a mess…" This lasts a few more moments, before Isabelle stands back up and frowns at the pile she manages to gather, with a quick push on her glasses. "Oh god. I hope I didn't lose any pages…" She starts to count what she has in hand, then looks over to how Sasha's doing. Paul's single page isn't noticed yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Sasha nods and after having gathered what she could she offers them to Isabelle, "No problem," she says softly, "Though you might want to bind it, can get windy out here." she glances up at the sky as if checking something and then smiles a little. She looks like she is purposefully trying not to look at the papers.

<Assume Sasha continues on her jog.>

Paul shifts the phone again… wait, no, how's that going to work now that both his hands are full? Okay, bring them together, pass the phone in one direction with the palms, and the paper in the other with the fingers. That works. "All right, I— Can I call you back in a few minutes? There's a thing going on here." He takes another step over toward Isabelle, but - considering that the phone stays in place - the other guy seems to have not taken the hint.

Isabelle gratefully (and eagerly) accepts the pile from Sasha, quickly sifting through the pages to count how many there are. And if Sasha even accidentally catches a glimpse, the papers seem to be some sort of scientific report in draft form. "Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… I'm still missing two!" She looks up abruptly, and /now/ she sees the page in Paul's hand. "Is that?" She holds a hand towards him tentatively, since, y'know, the man's still on the phone and stuff.

"Sorry, what was that? I only got about half—" A pause, then Paul shakes his head and puts the phone away again. "I think so," he adds, handing the page back to Isabelle. But if she was missing two, then where's the other one gone? He takes a quick look around, but doesn't see any more loose pages…

"Thank you." Isabelle accepts the lone page Paul has, but wait, she's still missing one. She also turns her head in search for it, and… look! There it is! It's been blown about fifteen feet away. And just as Izzy starts to head that way, another jogger happens by and steps squarely on the piece of paper, before running off. The bespectacled woman winces, picking up her pace towards the trampled sheet and waving her pile after the jogger. "Hey! Watch where you're stepping, whydontyou?!"

"Watch where you're dropping your crap, why don't you?" the jogger calls back, though he doesn't stick around to keep the argument going. Meanwhile, Paul simply watches and winces, glancing up to check out the tree branches as they wave slowly back and forth in the hot breeze. "Not the best day for loose leaf, is it," he offers, dryly.

"Yeah? Well…" Isabelle yells back at the jogger, but it sounds like she's failing to come up with a good follow-up. "… run away!" Lame, yes. Frowning, she gives her glasses another push back up her nose, then crouches down to pick up the trampled page. Lovingly wiping at it, she stands back up and files it back in her pile. "No it's not." Izzy finally takes a good look at the gentleman who helped with that one page. "God, what a mess. Thanks for your help though." With that, she starts to head back to her bench, but she hasn't taken one step before she turns back to Paul, as if suddenly recalling the polite thing to do. "Uhm, I'm Isabelle."

"Yes, well—" But the other one who helped out has already moved on as well. Lots of people have got somewhere else to be. "Oh, uh, Paul. Hello there." He offers a hand, briefly, before nodding to the paperwork again. "Patent application?" he asks, throwing out what might be a vaguely plausible guess if he's lucky.

The woman in the glasses looks at the offered hand, then awkwardly shuffles her paper pile to left hand so she can give Paul a shake. "The what now? Patent…" She looks down at the papers, and quickly shakes her head. "…Oh, nonono. It's a report. I'm working on this report for my graduate class, and my prof…" She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. "…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bore you." Beat. "Paul. Nice to meet you."

Paul shakes his head. "I just had someone spend twenty minutes telling me what I already knew. Believe me, you have nothing to apologize for." He pauses for a moment, considering. "So, UNLV, I'm guessing?" It almost manages to be a subtle prompt to keep going.

"Yeah." Isabelle bobs her head, and a polite smile flashes briefly on her lips. "UNLV. I'm, uh, doing research on Genetic Engineering as my graduate studies." Again she pauses, lifting a hand to push her glasses up. Why do they keep slipping like that? Gotta be annoying. "Do you go to school…." She starts to ask, but a quick glance at Paul's attire shuts her right up. "…Of course not. I don't know why I asked that."

At the mention of Izzy's major, Paul whistles softly. "Better you than me. About the closest I get to that is how to make it not sound like Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson selling snake oil." Maybe an advertising exec, then. "You're not too far off, though— I just graduated a few years ago. And the fraternities usually dress like this when they're trying to be taken seriously."

"Do they? I guess they do." She makes a confused face. Sure, Izzy may go to college, but she's clearly not the kind of girl to hang out around frat boys. Probably not too surprising she's not up to speed on how frat boys dress. "So, uh." Pivoting her upper body, Isabelle gestures at the bench that's still hosting all her books and papers. "I should go get my stuff. I don't need my books blown all over the park again."

Paul inclines his head. "Good thinking. Did it happen before, too? Besides just the one pile—" but he leaves off there, as the book on top has already flipped open, almost half the pages already hanging off in the other direction. If it tips a little further… He takes a step over to one side, making sure she has a clear path for a sprint if she needs it.

And sprint she does, once she sees the precarious position of the opened book. She doesn't even get a chance to answer Paul's question as she rushes to rescue her papers. Poor girl must keep herself busy just with this! Fortunately, she's in time to prevent another disaster, closing the book and arranging her stuff into a big pile. Again she spares him a sidelong glance, with another one of those brief, albeit embarrassed smiles. "Whew. I got lucky." She offers awkwardly.

He isn't /just/ spectating; once Isabelle makes her move, Paul walks around to another side, pre-emptively blocking it off until she gets things settled. "I guess," he murmurs. "So, I'll see you around some time? Looks like that professor left you plenty to get caught up on." There's a rueful undertone: some things cross subject areas, not to mention the barrier between academia and business.

Isabelle bobs her head. "Sure, yeah. I, uh, I work at the library too. I'm sure you go to the library, right? I'll let you check out five books at once for being such a helpful samaritan." She offers. Yes, LAME, but it's not like she owns a restaurant and can offer discounts on entrees.

"I'll be sure to take you up on that. Which branch is that, again?" No sarcasm, but libraries are a little harder to guess than colleges. "Well, good luck with it," as he takes his phone out again, checking to see if the reception's cleared up yet. Nope, doesn't look like it.

Of all things, /that/ actually gets a stare from Isabelle from behind her nerdy glasses. "/The/ library." She says that as if she's incredulous he has to ask - never mind there actually are several in the metropolitan Vegas area. "North Las Vegas Library, I mean. It's actually not far from here." She turns bodily and tries to point in the general direction of the place, but pipes down when she sees him checking his phone.

At first, Paul just instinctively catches on that there's /some/ movement, then glances up to see where it's actually going. "Oh, about a mile up on Eastern? I've seen it, I think." Driven past it, most likely. "Well, better that than anywhere that makes you wear a hairnet, I suppose."

"It's a great place to work." So says the nerdy girl with the nerdy glasses. Isabelle now stacks her books properly, before picking the whole thing up in both hands. "Definitely, come by and look around. Uhm, I should be going. Thanks again for, you know, all the help." Once more, she flashes that brief, blink-and-you-miss-it smile.

There's something that crosses Paul's face… perhaps it's a smile as well, it lasts longer but it's more ambiguous. Then, with a wave, he returns to his original path, dialing the phone as he walks. "Hello? Yeah, sorry about that— you know how it is when you go under a bridge. So, tomorrow's conference call—"

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