Look who's here! (Amé)

[Evan Coleman]

"There must be some kind of way out of here" Evan hummed along with Hendrix as he half-strode, half-danced down to the staff lounge, "said the joker to the thief"

It had been one of those days. Five appointments, one of which hadn't even been scheduled, a mountain of paperwork, and an abundance of disciplinary crap to fill out. Furthermore, today was the first of the month, so it was time to see if his author roommate could actually manage to pay rent, or if Evan would have to be a Nazi about paying bills for the second time in a row. He was not looking forward to finding out.

"There's too much confusion" Hendrix sang in his ear, guitar chords dancing into his earbuds while Evan danced down the hallway. A gaggle of middle schoolers walked by and stared. He gave them a jaunty salute in return, "I can't get no relief"

But, praise be, it was Thursday. Thursday meant baked goods in the staff lounge, courtesy of Ferris the Bringer of Sugar, Spice, and Anything Nice. At this point they'd probably all be gone, but Evan held out hope that at least one of the pastries would have gone overlooked. At the very least, he'd be able to crack into some of the leftover cupcakes from the staff party last weekend. Unless someone had thrown them out.

Damn, he really hoped nobody had thrown those out. He needed his baked goods and he needed them now.

". . . No reason to get excited/The thief, he kindly spoke/There are many here among us/who feel that life is but a joke . . . "

What he really wanted, Evan reflected as he turned down the hall to the staffroom entrance, was an honest-to-God weekend out. Not a quiet evening in, or another awkward getting-to-know-you staff party, but an actual weekend out with people that he knew and genuinely liked, preferably involving nice food, alcoholic drink, and unforced laughter.

Well, if wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets . . .

A clattering sound jerked him out of his reverie ("outside in the distance/a wildcat did growl . . . "). Somebody was in the staffroom already, and from the sound of it they were really going at something. A whiff of chocolate came to his nostrils.

Aw man, all I wanted was one cupcake . . .

He entered the staffroom, a very caricature of resignation, but the view stopped him in his tracks.

The staffroom was a mess, all right, and the culprit was easily identifiable: a small woman with black hair, chocolate stains on her fingers, and an absolutely unforgettable aura. Her emotional landscape was a sorcerer's epiphany, phoenix flames streaking across a steamy urban jungle, the smell of a looming hurricane clashing with the raw sound-scent of street markets infested with smugglers and heroes reveling in their illegality. Evan felt as though a hawk had spread its wings within his soul and taken flight. He wanted to roar the song that this woman's aura sang to him in its chili-powder gyrations. He knew now that there was no way he'd be getting cupcakes, and he couldn't care less.

"All along the watchtowerrrrr . . ."

"Amé?!?"

[Amélie Tachibana]

The forecast had promised clear skies and sun so vibrant it could tan the fairest skinned folk across Pilot Ridge, an exciting prospect considering it was just a day before the weekend. Unfortunately Mother Nature thought it best to spite the weatherman and instead of a sky without blemish the residents of the small township were left with a climate so drab and grey that not even the most morose individual would find pleasure in it. The lazy advancing storm passed overhead like a colourless monolith, threatening to engulf Hammel in a churning spiral of wind and water. Not the best way to end a Thursday surely. Especially for a newly hired member of staff still getting used to the whole experience of it all.

Amélie had been embraced by her old mentors with open arms, a food basket being her welcoming gift back to the school after four and a half years back in Japan. The gift was nice, it kept her satisfied for a good six hours before she had to hunt for some more food. Only a week had passed since her arrival, unpacked boxes still flooding her cozy apartment and the timetables and schedules of her new job plastered onto her fridge, phone and laptop. It wasn't particularly hard to forget her duties, managing her one and only student, the troublesome Phoenix, had brought about a whole slew of personal exercises to stimulate proper discipline of her body and mind. Amé needed to succeed in this new environment, it was her first proper job anyways.

The unfortunate stress of managing her morose pupil had forced the slender metahuman into retreating back into the staff lounge, a place of comfort and a safe haven for a 'rookie' like herself. Well, it was also an excuse to check on its resources.

The young woman slipped into the staff room, still finding the whole sensation strange. She was now a teacher and no longer a student sneaking around in places she shouldn't be. Yet, it all seemed a bit daring. No one was present upon her entry, not even one person. It was deserted, both a good and bad thing. Good, because she could eat what she wanted in privacy and not scare people; bad, because she wanted someone to speak to.

The initial tentative search eventually morphed into a shameless hunt for sustenance, surely the teachers had a stock of food they had no intention of eating. Sure enough they did, and oh what a selection of appetisers they were. Backed goodies; chocolate, peanut butter and vanilla trickling into the moist dough of the baked goods that were neatly organised on a large platter on a counter not to far from the coffee machine by a tinted glass window. "Yay!", she squealed a bit too happily, hopping on the tips of her dainty feet as she privately celebrated her finding. It was like discovering the grave of Tutankhamun, although she was bound to discover something equally exciting in the next day or so...that's just how she was.

Not taking time to follow the procedures of etiquette Amé began plucking the cupcakes and cookies simultaneously, shoving them into her peachy maw before chewing vigorously and swallowing. Her tongue danced with the sweetness of the baked treats, sending her mouth into a unhindered orgy of tastes and textures like no other. She even let out a little groan of happiness, eating alone tended to gang her such freedom. It wasn't until she had consumed several dozens of what was on offer did she hear the door to the staff room open, getting startled at the new infusion.

Almost on instinct, the young woman tossed the cupcake behind her in a moment of panic. "Ah! It wasn't me!", she squeaked, swivelling on the balls of her feet and wiping the crumbs of her lips in one elegant sweep of her wrist. It was then that her almond eyes came locked on to the handsome young man standing in the doorway. An old friend, a beloved friend. "Eh?! Evan, what..what are you doing here?", Amé wondered aloud, puckering her lips before giving him a very warm smile. It had been too long.

Shoving a half completed blueberry muffin into her waiting mouth Amélie dashed over to this familiar face, bounding over the ocassional newspaper and work folder. Without warning, or thinking about the potential awkwardness, Amé collided with Evan, coiling her skinny arms around his chest and giggling at the sight.

Wow, someone's been working out. Her consciousness observed with hushed glee. He had grown up, he was a man now!

"Ohhh Evan! It's so good to see you!", Amé chirped happily, hurriedly swallowing the last remnants of the muffin before letting out a melodic giggle into his chest. He still smelt the same as well, like pine nuts and cologne. "How's life? Have you got a girlfriend yet? Where are you living? Did you miss me? No wait, of course you did. Tell me everything!", she happily stated, snuggling into his body before releasing and gently cupping his face in her hands. "You have facial hair now! Oooh very manly." She smirked, remembering his days as a fresh faced boy of fifteen. He was a cutie back then, but now there was no denying it. He was gorgeous.

[Evan Coleman]

"AAAAGH!" Evan half-shrieked, half-laughed as she collided with him, "it's an Amé-Tsunami! A TSUNAMÉ!!!!"

He hugged her back, hard. Screw cupcakes; this was better. The Universe had just more than made up for the crappiness of today.

"Leave my face-fuzz alone!" he protested, giggling. Shaving had been a bit of an afterthought lately, and his 5 o'clock shadow was beginning to take the first tentative steps towards beard-dom. He made a mental note to shave before he went full-hobo.

"Life . . . jeez, well, life is . . ."


"Life," Emmett had pronounced with the gravitas of a teenaged Salinger, "does not get better than this."

Evan nodded along with the rest of the group. The theater kids had all packed themselves into and onto their usual perch at the second table along the northernmost window of the cafeteria. This was not in itself unusual, but there was none of the usual focus on eating and self-important conversation that usually accompanied lunch. No, today everyone had eyes only for the other occupants of the cafeteria.

And what occupants they were! Winter had come, and the international exchange program had come with it in full force. Familiar faces had gone to parts unknown, to be replaced with shining new personalities to be appreciated, dissected, and maybe sliiiiightly judged. The telepaths and empaths of the group kept a running commentary on the new faces, while those with other gifts took note, made jokes, and let loose their own observations.

"Okay, third table from the left, second row," chimed Erica, nestled in Greg's lap and six months away from a breakup that would rock the group for months to come, "the blonde kid just sat through Mrs. Goldfarb's English class and he's ALREADY planning on packing his bags."

"Man, wait till he gets a load of P.E. . . ." grimaced Tanner.

"Wait wait wait, check out the girl with the red bag, over there!" Evan interrupted through a mouth of fries.

"Oh my God, look at all that stress! That's terrible, someone should talk to her," cooed Jamie sympathetically, making it clear in her body language that 'someone' would not be her.

"Hey, Ally Higby just noticed the Indian guy in the red shirt. Five bucks says she's in his pants this time next month," sniggered Ellie.

"He's Pakastani, you racist hag, and I will take that bet," replied Nick magisterially, fishing out a wrinkled five from his wallet. Evan hooted along with the rest of the group. Between his telepathy and an uncanny ability to pick the winners of all things chance, Nick simply did not lose bets. Ellie scowled, and handed him a five with a roll of her eyes.

"Hey, Asian girl in the hipster outfit, eleven o'clock. What's HER deal?" asked Hannah, nudging at Evan.

"Which one? WOAH," Evan interrupted himself as he got a look at her aura.

She had a tray stacked almost to her head with food and some of the most chic clothing choices he'd ever seen, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her emotional landscape. Open architecture, a city of chrome, concrete, and creosote paintings, red light districts and meat sizzling in open markets with slipstream flames flowing through the avenues and alleyways, coral-eyed vigilantes and storms that smelled of hope and sour candies. She was an anthem, a manifesto screamed from the back of a wind-tossed griffin.

Evan had never seen an aura quite like it, and he knew that he just HAD to talk to her.

Before he knew it, his feet were carrying him over to where she'd seated herself. She was burning through the second of her salads when he stepped up to her table.

"Excuse me, but . . . how can you eat all that?" he blurted, and then grimaced to himself. Nice.

"Life is pretty freaking awesome right now, obviously! I just started working here. New counselor. And DUH I missed you! Forget me, what the hell are you doing here?"

Before she could answer, he'd picked her up and spun her into another laughing hug. It had truly been too long; he hadn't quite realized how much he'd missed her.

[Amélie Tachibana]

Amé had to stand on the tips of her toes to fully get her dainty arms around his neck, clinging tight to him like a monkey in an embrace that communicated the depth of her joy. Simply having Evan here was a miracle in itself, and a very strange coincidence considering how close they were back when they were students. He was Amé's closest friend, never failing to keep her safe and well fed whenever they were in troublesome situations, which were often caused as a result of their combined silliness. Simply being around the young man, inhaling his scent and feeling his arms around her ushered a wave of nostalgia to fill her veins. It was like a sugar rush of memories scaling the archives of her consciousness, lighting the flames of their friendship.

The slender woman had to blink back the giddy surprise that this new discovery had brought, not bothering to wipe the silly grin plastered on her peachy lips. His reveal that he too was newly hired staff at Hammel forced the young woman's features to perk up with elation even further. He was working here as well?! Her expression quickly turned into one of cheery warmth, honeyed giggles escaping her lips as she was spun in the air like a ballerina. It wasn't too much of an issue really, regardless of how much Amé ate she could never break into hundred pounds or above, making sweeping hugs all the more easier.

"I missed you even more! And guess what?", Amé smiled, still tightly embraced in his grip, her petite feet no longer on the ground as her question hung in the air. "I'm also working here! As a trainer! I can't believe this is happening, why did no one tell me?", she gasped, pursing her lips whilst resting her porcelain hands on his shoulders. Surely Dr. Neville would have known, he knows everything! Maybe the kindly psychiatrist saw it fit to surprise them.

"Life has been amazing! Mum and dad are doing well and I can finally drive (not so well) and I have one student but he's a bit of a sad little boy but that doesn't matter, he likes food which is good and..."

Verbal vomit, both a blessing and a curse. Many would choose to simply accept the flood of accented syllables and pretend to pay attention whilst others would merely zone out, it was understandable though. Food could only really be spoken about so much before it left a bad taste in one's mouth.

Not Amélie and definitely not on her first day of school. The whole transition from snowy Osaka to the windy town of Pilot Ridge had both excited and terrified the exchange student, a girl lost in her own wonder. She was but a girl of fourteen, wide eyed and hungry for knowledge (and food), hoping to share in the lives of these pretty western Metahumans. They were a very eclectic bunch, made even more obvious when she had entered the cafeteria that day.

It smelt good, a lot different to the seaside scents of the cafeteria back home, but was still worthy of her attention. The collection of steamy stews, hearty casseroles and exotic salads brought a magnificently mouth watering sensation across the girl's tongue, hungry suspense urging her straight towards the counter with two platters in hand and a wide grin on her face. Attached to her platter was a little note, scrawled in the handwriting of one of her new teachers.

This is Amélie. Let her serve herself. Kind regards, head office

With zealous enthusiasm and careful balance the skinny little girl piled the meals on her platter like a reverse game of Jenga. It was truly exciting stuff and if it wasn't for the handsome boy who approached her she would have most certainly engorged herself with the generous lunch meal. It was a good thing she had finished half the Greek salad stuffed into the plastic bowl on her platter, no food in her tummy meant little conversation and she just had to amuse this friendly face.

"Because I'm a growing girl and every growing girl needs a nutritious meal to keep her happy and healthy", she chirped happily, echoing what her fitness junkie mother always told her. Giving the boy a cheery grin the petite girl downed a can of soda in several seconds, letting the fizzy liquid bathe her throat with its ticklish stream. Patting her lips dry with the edge of her napkin Amé offered a slender hand in the boy's direction.

"My name is Amélie Yuuka Tachibana, what's yours mr. Nosy?", she cheekily giggled, her lips curled into sincere grin. Hoping to start something new with this friendly boy, he seemed nice.

"...and I also have a cat now! Mr. Tubs, he's fat and I don't think he likes me very much but he can't run away from me because he's just a chubby fluffball." Amé sighed, taking in a deep breath after the lengthy detailing of life over the past four years in Japan. The young woman couldn't help but blush, this was all so amazing. Being here, in the arms of an old friend and having such a gorgeous platter of cookies and muffins not so far away was always a great addition to life and she could not wipe the chuffed simper off her face.

"Wow...we've grown up Evan", she whispered thoughtfully, looking at him with her almond eyes and remembering the days of their youth together. He held one of the most important roles in her life at Hammel and she could never erase that, not that she would want to anyways. It was all so surreal being here with this young man rather than the boy who used to put up with her girlish antics back in school.

"So are you going to put me down or am I stuck like this forever?" Amé giggled with a playful smirk, kicking her legs in the air until one of her flats accidentally slipped off and flew in the direction of a portable fan, knocking it over till it came crashing down on top of some paperwork. "Oopsy..", she cringed, scrunching her toes as she stared at the new mess she made. Still as clumsy as always.

[Evan Coleman]

Evan let out a tiny "eep!" and began to put her down, then laughed as Amé managed to bullseye the fan. Even her clumsiness felt special to him: some people were just physically awkward and jittery, but not her. Amélie's clumsiness had a certain grace to it, a Rube Goldberg sort of serendipity and talent for finding chaos within the orderly that one might almost mistake for mischievous intent were it not so manifestly an accident.

"Okay, no, we have most definitely not grown up if I still find that funny," he chortled, putting her down, "So . . . okay, wow, questions, so was your cat ALWAYS a bit of a butterball, or did he BECOME one once he had access to all the food you eat? I actually have a dog now! Or, it's my roommates, but I figure I get co-ownership rights on him or whatever. Wait, yeah, how did I not know that you were here? I mean, I've basically been submerged in all this paperwork and my holy CRAP, today was a weird one . . ."

He felt his voice fade into the back of his throat as he started compulsively studying her aura. Yes, it wasn't the most conventionally polite thing in the world, and yes, he was trying to get better about looking into people's emotional landscape outside of purely work-related issues, but . . . it was Amé. Amé was right here, right now, in front of him, talking to him again, radiating those streams of sugar-electric joie de vivre like ley-lines out of some forgotten Atlantean temple. She was home. She was a part of home.

He wasn't even seeing her entirely, he realized. He was seeing a collage of old memories layered around her like a halo of yellowing photographs from vacations long past. Kitchen mishaps, movies watched with running commentary, hikes taken, rooftops visited, ill-fated attempts at teaching and learning yoga, lurches in the stomach at seeing her in the audience, school dances observed, laughed at, and (gradually, at her pushing) participated in . . . all of these blended together with her phoenix-anthem aura to make him lose power of speech for just a second.

Evan found himself speechless for the merest of seconds. Truth be told, he hadn't made any particular plans or had any conversational gambits in mind coming into this, which was not his usual modus operandi. At fourteen, his capacity for social improvisation was limited. He needed a script, and someone had just set fire to the pages and smashed the typewriter in his head. He felt himself reddening as he took her hand.

"Uh, Evan. I'm Evan Coleman. Nice to meet you."

After the merest of pauses, he sighed through his nose and sat down. In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound, as Nick would say.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be a weirdo or anything, but you . . ." he began, halfway thinking of telling her what he could see of her aura and reconsidering midway through, "you, ah, looked lonely over here. You're new, right? How have you liked it here so far?"

He wasn't sure how everybody back at the theater table would be reacting to all this, and he was in no hurry to find out. Doing something this risky was not at all his usual operating procedure, and he was feeling the vertigo that usually accompanied any steps out of his box, but still . . . this girl. Amélie. He felt that he'd rather like to get to know this one . . .

"I see you found the leftovers from last Friday. How would you feel about getting some actual food?" he asked, looking at the ravaged remains of the cupcakes. Amé had grace, true, but when eating she could resemble nothing so much as a horror movie monster, with her food playing the part of the hapless campers. He'd once tried calling her Galactus, Devourer of Worlds. She hadn't gotten it, which had prompted a watching of both Fantastic Four movies and subsequent giggling mock-exorcism of the computer they'd been watching it on when they realized how truly terrible both Fantastic Four movies were.

[Amélie Tachibana]

Eventually, after a few stray giggles and lingering gazes the slender trainer was placed back onto land, her one bare sole feeling the warmth of the carpet underneath. Slinking over to her fallen shoe the young woman effortlessly slipped it on while simultaneously lifting up the fan from its new location, letting out a sigh of relief when she noticed nothing scratched or broken. "You found that funny, not me!", she chided with a smirk, shaking her head in mock dissapointment as she lightly made her way towards him.

"I don't understand your question! He's uhhh...just going through a period in his life where food is all he can handle!", she giggled lightly, rolling her eyes at the thought of Mr. Tubs eating his sardines with a frown. It was almost certain that Amélie had found great comfort knowing that her beloved friend was now back with her in the place where it all started. Who else would she chatter on to about her chubby cat? Well she would tell anyone, but not many would care and some would probably call PETA or something. "Ah wells I'm just happy you're here!" Amé simpered, brushing a strand of hair off his brow before perching on the back of a couch, her balance as impeccable as a gargoyle atop the notre dame.

There was a brief moment of silence, a comforting void which embraced the chuffed duo as they wallowed in each other's presence. Amé knew Evan well enough to discern when he was taking a 'peek' at people's aura, it was a favourite past time of his and this time it was no different. Lightly poking him in the belly, Amé snapped the young man out of his trance. "Are you checking out my aura again?! Anything change since the last time?", she smiled gently, cocking her head to the side as she searched his eyes for the brief moment of sublime wonder he went through when he used his power. It was a wonderful thing to watch.

First impressions were always a great way to discern how a person would generally behave and present themselves over an extended period of time. Rumour had it that it was the first three seconds of contact that would snag someone's attention and in this case, Amé's focus was set upon the nervous boy in front of her. Upon some inspection the young Evan had impressed the chuffed little French/Japanese girl quite a bit. He was cute, with a lingering stare that would have concerned Amé if it weren't for the constant glancing back at her mountain of food.

"You aren't being weird! It's always nice to meet new people!", she grinned, shoving several grapes into her mouth before chewing once and swallowing. Evan certainly wasn't the first person to ask her how Hammel was going, dirt there was her parents and then the kindly staff and the occasional random senior but this was the first person her age to show proper interest in her existence for the second day of school. "Yeah, everything is great! The food's good and I just got my timetable. I still need to work out where my dorm is hehe...", Amélie blushed, showing him her timetable and the whereabouts of her dorm room, one which happened to be Co-ed as well, not that she knew what it meant of course.

Scrunching her face the girl gazed out towards the window, letting out a low sigh. It was snowing outside, something which reminded her of home back in Kyoto.

"So Evan! Where's your lunch? I'm looking like such a little Piggy with you here!", she grinned, gulping down her second soda and giving him a chuffed grin. It was true though, the girl got even hungrier when she saw people not eating. "So tell me, anyone I should watch out for?" Amélie asked with a curious little grin, nibbling at the end of a celery stick before swallowing it whole.

"Eh? Actual food? Didn't Ferris make these...I mean, okay but. I don't want to waste them...they're all alone here", Amé pouted, giving the platter puppy dog eyes as she gazed at their chocolate chippy goodness. Just looking at them set her hunger on fire once more and it took a lot of restraint to remain perched on the couch. "Wait!? Are you asking me out on a date?", the young woman announced, as if it had only just hit her. Gripping his wrists Amélie let out a melodic giggle before glancing down at her watch. "Well...depends really! Do I need to get changed?" She quizzed, glancing down at her shirt, cardigan and tights combination, a relatively lazy outfit compared to her usual look.

"Wait! Are we allowed to do this? I mean aren't we staff now...isn't that like illegal or something?", she whispered, glancing around just in case some member of staff were to pop out of nowhere and catch them during their much needed time of catching up.

[Evan Coleman]

Evan twitched as she poked his stomach, only to feel his grin collapse into a shamefaced version of itself as he slid out of her aura and back to the present moment. He was intensely ticklish, a fact he'd managed to hide from most people at Hammel, but Amé had managed to ferret it out of him relatively early on and had no compunctions towards using it when she felt it justified . . . or if she felt like it in general. Hugging and touching were lovely, but when Amélie Tachibana came at him with a finger he immediately went full-on Jason Bourne.

"Ah! I mean . . ." he began, reflexively looking for a flippant response until he saw how she was looking at him. Her smile was soft, her eyes understanding, and her whole being radiated something welcoming that at once incorporated and utterly transcended anything his five-and-a-half-senses could detect. He sighed, and felt his grin shift into something rainstorm-calm.

"You haven't changed a bit, and it's perfect," he finished, feeling his heart expand within his chest as he felt truth resonate through that statement. Resonate. Resonate was a good word for it.

Evan felt a bit at a loss when he realized that he'd left his food back at the theater table. Lunch was slowly creeping towards its conclusion, and he very much wanted to eat, but he also didn't want to deal with the good-natured-but-occasionally-harsh ribbing of the other theater kids just yet. And besides, he loved describing Hammel to strangers, and was finding himself growing in confidence as he kept talking to Amélie . . .

"All right, Hammel Social Survival 101," he began, sitting down next to her and taking a look at her papers, "let's see . . . okay, first of all, you have some prime real estate for a dorm room. Most people would kill for a co-ed dorm, so you'll have a great space to host people if you want. HOW-ever, don't host too much because then you'll start to get people hanging out all the time, which can be a bit of a problem if you or your roommates want some time alone. Oh, you have Mrs. Rosen for history! She's awesome when she's not being all cranky . . ."

* * *

"Okay, so I have to ask," Evan was saying a few weeks later, "you DID know that Vishal was flirting with you, right? Cause, I honestly couldn't tell."

"A date?" Evan heard himself yelp, taken aback, "Um, I . . . no! No, I just meant get some food and catch up! I mean, eat the cupcakes first if you want. I'll probably steal one, but the rest are alllll yours."

So saying, he snagged a cupcake with orange frosting and bit into it, musing to himself as he looked at her. A date? No, that wasn't what he was going for. Amé was just a friend.

Right?

Yes, of course. Just a friend. They were just two friends going out for a late lunch slash early dinner. Nothing untoward.

Deep in the bowels of Castle EvansRomanticSide, Dr. Francis Norbert Stein (or, as he was known to his colleagues, Dr. Frank N. Stein) checked his watch impatiently.

"Hurry up, Mr. Gor!" he snapped at his assistant, "the storm will be overhead in less than two minutes!"

Ivan Gor grumbled to himself as he shifted the hulking body into place on the surgical table and began connecting the various electrodes to their rightful place. His back was going to ache twice as much as it usually did after a session with Doc Stein, and his propensity to hunch already did for his back just fine, thank you very much. He briefly reflected on how odd it was that he always seemed to hunch when in the doctor's presence: he was one of the taller students in his year back at school, and yet he somehow felt compelled to hunch his back whenever in Doc Stein's presence. He couldn't explain it, but it just felt right somehow.

"The creature is ready, Ma . . . Doctor," he said, biting back the urge to say 'Master' again. Why did that always happen?

Dr. Stein took the opportunity to self-importantly flick switches and turn dials and knobs on the vast machine that took up the northernmost half of the wall. The machine didn't run, of course: the entire project was run off of a snazzy desktop that his grant money had bought, and some rather nice IT gents from the university had programmed it so that it basically did all the data gathering and project implementation with a minimum of external input, but still. Tradition. One had to respect tradition.

"Very well!" he cried, with more than a touch of theater, "then all we have to do is wait and . . ."

KRAKOOOOOM

Lightning flared down the series of copper wires that protruded spider-like from the roof of the room. Electricity sputtered and spouted all over the creature's body. The desktop computer displayed some slightly irregular graphs.

Dr. Stein watched, enraptured, as the creature began to spasm, then twitch . . . then move! With one beefy arm, it wrenched its way out of its restraints. Growling, it stood up from the table, letting lose a Promethean roar that shook the very foundations of Castle EvansRomanticSide. Off to the side, Ivan let loose a squeal of delight. Wait till his friends heard about HIS summer internship!

"I name thee Romantic-Attraction-To-Amélie-Tachibana!" shrieked Dr. Stein like a man possessed, "It's alive! IT'S ALIIIIIIIVE!!!"

"Just out of curiosity," Evan found himself adding as confused feelings washed over him, "would you, um, like it to be a date?"

[Amélie Tachibana]

The young woman instinctively found her lips curl into a little smile upon Evan's admittance, it was nice knowing he could still be honest with her. So she hadn't changed a bit. Quite a peculiar little observation considering she herself did not entirely understand what exactly he was looking at. He always told her it was an emotional landscape of sensations but all the girl truly felt for a majority of her waking hours was her intense hunger and the need to chase after some potent strain of emotion. Glancing up at him the slender trainer simpered, releasing a sigh through her peachy lips. "Good, that's good." Amé whispered, shooting her almond gaze towards the muffins.

It was pleasant knowing that Evan was now part of this chapter of her life, a familiar face was always a comforting thing and especially if it belonged to a particularly beloved friend. Yes, Evan may have grown taller, bulkier and hairier but the perky glutton found herself enjoying these changes. He was a man now and no longer the skinny and slightly awkward drama kid, but a part of her still saw him that way. Maybe she simply adored the nostalgia.

* * *

"Eh? Don't be silly!" The girl chided, lightly punching Evan in the arm as she thought back to her recent conversation with Vishal. No way, he was totally into white girls with big boobs. "You need to polish up that power if you really think that." Amé teased, flipping a slender leg over the stained seat of a very cheap car. "Anyways, are you going to teach me to drive now or do I have to learn from Grand theft auto?" Amélie giggled, rolling her eyes at the thought of that particular video game. She wasn't sure how to play exactly but she had a very bad habit of running people over.

"Are you sure they won't mind? I mean...Asian girls behind the wheel are always...interesting" she mumbled, furrowing her brow before strapping on the seatbelt. It seemed natural to be nervous, her first attempt at driving without an adult nearby, how daring.

But Evan promised her she wouldn't die and that was reason enough to trust him.

The platter of baked goods had once again found itself in the grip of the young woman, a particularly cheery grin spread out on her lips. Ferris had a habit of making mouth watering delights and these colourful little dessert pieces looked absolutely scrumptious. But alas, her attention was snapped once more to Evan, his voice momentarily penetrating her fixation on the cupcakes.

"Ah! Well, if we're going out I'll shout! And if you argue back...well, you know what will happen." She smirked, wriggling her eyebrow whilst raising a finger and directing towards his abdomen. Yes, even the virtuous Amélie could abuse weaknesses and Evan's ticklishness was one she relished over.

Tremendous roars of thunder crackled across the obsidian sky as a relentless torrent of blistering rain pelted the earth below. It was as if Zeus himself was having some riotous drunk orgy up in the heavens and forgot to dismantle his lightning stick.

KRAKOOOOM!

The sky would scream, drowning out every other noise as the sky was lit up with the spiderwebbing majesty of electricity. The crackling roars of nature pressured the earth to bow down, uprooting trees and ripping off roofs just to intimidate the silly little plebeians who scurried back to their dwellings. One particular girl was careening across the deserted streets, her bare feet burning with a prickly numbness as they directed her across the gravelly road. Frightened sobs scurried off her tongue, scorching the back of her throat as she ambled in the direction of a little house.

It had happened again. The senior boys had told her there'd be a party out near the south side. They promised her her friends would be there. They promised her Evan would be there. But no one was. No one but some masked thugs who pelted her with eggs and taunted her, terrifying the girl as they chased her out of their trap.

Amelie had lost her shoes in the panicked sprint back to civilisation, her skinny legs propelling her with every ragged breath that pumped out of her lungs. She was cold, alone and hungry, so so hungry. All she needed was the comfort of a friend and the howling winds only spurred her forward, directing her to the one place where she would find solace.

The girl arrived dripping with tears and rainwater, shivering like she had been struck with the kiss of ice and dressed in party clothes now made useless from the assault of nature. Why did they bully her like this? Her frightened escape had lasted long enough to bruise her feet and drench her to the bone and her last fragment of energy was the desperate tapping against a familiar door. Her weak voice crying out above the thunder and lighting.

"Evan...Evan...p-please open up..."

The young man's question had thrown her off, temporarily forcing some dry crumbs to scrape down her throat as she gagged from the sudden assault on her mind. A date?! The last 'date' she had was with her dad, and it over Skype...without the video feature, with a rubbish wifi connection. Gingerly swallowing the white chocolate cookie the porcelain skinned trainer gazed up at him, quiet for a moment before cracking a smile.

"I guess so!" She chirped nervously, flinching ever so slightly from the blush that greedily trawled across her supple cheeks. It was just Evan, no need to make a fuss over it. He was a good friend, a beloved friend and Amélie was going to honour him as such.

Anything for an old friend.

[Evan Coleman]

Evan had always viewed driving as a necessary evil in the course of life's many vicissitudes. It made him tense and involved a lot more sitting still than he usually preferred on a given day. Given the choice, he'd usually prefer walking to anything else. Only an emergency of some kind would usually induce him behind the wheel.

Dammit, how did this girl keep getting him to do these things?

"It'll be fine," he replied with a confidence magnificently feigned, "so, when you're ready, start the ignition, put your foot on the break, release the emergency break, put it in reverse and let's back out nice . . . and . . . slowly . . ."

Inside his head, Evan was suddenly remembering every prayer he'd ever heard to every god he'd ever heard prayed to and was running through them all concurrently. Ah well, he thought, I lived a good life.

"Oh God, no, please! No please! No tickling! I submit! I . . . wait, you . . . yeah?"

A date. It was a date. Kinda. Maybe. Okay, that was pretty awesome. A grin started creeping across his face like mercury.

"Okay, so, awesome! What . . . ah, where would you feel like going?" he asked happily, feeling a sense of unreality tinge everything about this conversation. Wow, this . . . this was happening. Man, what would his high school self say if he could be seeing this moment?

He'd been sitting in the common room with a book, enjoying the roar of the tempest outside. Hypothetically, he should've been getting ready for the LGBT party that he'd sworn he was going to, but the storm outside . . . it wasn't that it was too much, but it was just enough that he knew he'd be the happier for a night between him, the lightning, and the prose of Neil Gaiman than a drunken riot of color and emotion. Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar were showing him a lovely time as it was . . .

His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the dorm entrance. Grumbling, he began a slow trudge over to the door.

That trudge turned into a dash as soon as he heard Amé's voice.

Evan opened the door and immediately felt his stomach drop somewhere into his toes. Amé was soaking wet and shivering. Her clothes . . . god, her party clothes were all torn up. She was limping, he noticed distantly over the rising keening notes of panic. Her shoes were missing . . .

"Amé? Oh my god, what the hell happened?" he half-shrieked, dragging her in. He all but catapulted her onto his bed and dove into his closet, looking for that First Aid kit which he was almost POSITIVE he'd packed . . . somewhere . . . aha! He sprang back out, bandages in hand, and began hastily applying them to the cuts and the bruises and . . . the egg yolk?

He sucked in a breath. The riot of her terror, he realized, was seeping into him, drizzling like something acidic and infected into the cradle of his skull. He'd been riding off of that, but not so much as to completely dull his attention.

Eggs. Someone had been throwing eggs at her.

The world went red.

"Who . . . precisely . . . did this to you?" he hissed softly.

"We could snag an early dinner in a bit, if you want! I haven't been back to Abe's since I got back . . . or a movie! I've totally been out of the loop with what's out. Or, I dunno, maybe the Globe is showing something tonight? Or just go for a walk! Whichever! Whatever! I'm easy!" He was babbling, he knew, and grinning like a maniac, and DAMN but he simply did not care.

[Amélie Tachibana]

Amélie could not help but grin at Evan's rather adorable reaction to her agreement, it seemed rather strange. He had known her for a while now, he had gone out with her before; eaten with her, driven with her, apologised to other motorists with her and did pretty much everything good friends did together, so this newfound redfaced excitement had the young trainer rather baffled. But alas! Amélie wasn't the sort to mull over such silly little things, let alone when it revolved around people she could trust.

The options seemed endless when he had given her the choice of where to go that night, it was a challenge in itself weighing all of the scrumptious options available in Pilot Ridge. Indian, Thai, Italian or the good old steakhouse? If it were up to the cheery glutton she would have chosen all of them, a cross country tour of the all the culinary delights the area had to offer. But that would be unfortunate for Evan, he was a lightweight.

The sudden jerk of the car forced an ebullient squeal to escape Evy's mouth, the sheer excitement of turning the car on sending waves of adrenalin through her veins. Yes, she had watched the fat and furious films. Yes, she did think of them as guilty pleasures...and yes, she believed them to be true. Siphoning the energies of her inner Vin Diesel the girl gripped the wheel tight, revving the engine before letting out a cry of victory.

"WOOH! IT'S ALIVE!" She hooted, offering her friend a mighty grin before happily following his instructions in the best way she could. It was simple enough really, although his definition of 'slow' always seemed a bit different to hers.

After several accelerated attempts at backing out of the driveway, narrowly missing a fire hydrant, several cars, a cyclist and a dumpster Amélie Tachibana succeeded in moving several meters away from where she started, a success in itself considering how long it had taken just to reverse safely and 'slowly'. It was always a curious little activity of theirs, she couldn't quite put a finger on it but...Evan always looked sick when she was driving, maybe he just wasn't the sort to summon his inner street racing energies...

"Well...there is a new Brazilian place near the theatre! It replaced that old Italian pizzeria, you remember that place right? When you crashed into the chef's Vespa?" Amélie giggled, happily swaying from side to side as she remembered that humorous little incident...only to forget one minor detail. She was the one driving back then, not him. But that didn't really matter did it?

Evan and Amélie were well known for being a rather lively duo, always seeking out new adventures and ensuring to brighten up each other's day with a fresh activity or challenge. The stormy night on the eave of Spring was not a fluffy little escapade, it was far deeper and greater than that. It was an incident which cemented the undeniable bond the two shared, even in their darkest moment together.

By the time Evan had opened the door Amélie had collapsed into his arms, trembling from the cold and tattered from her sheer exhaustion. The girl had used up every ounce of her energy reserves when fleeing back to Evan, to the point that she had exceeded her limit and tortured her skinny body till it was numb from the pain. Her legs were bruised, muscles battered from the sheer exertion that her power could afford her.

Her mind swayed from Evan's room to the pitch black embrace that threatened to swallow her vision, one which would force her into a very deep sleep. Amélie had to stay conscious, she did not want to scare Evan anymore than she already had and his desperate attempts at cleansing her bruised and battered body was enough to keep her semi-attentive to what was happening.

She could smell his cologne over the stench of rainwater and wet clothing, feel his tender touch against raw flesh that was exposed around her ankles and hear his terrified breaths, something which only heightened her tears even further.

"I...I...they s-said you'd be there and...and I saw him. It w-was S-Stefan...I don't know w-why..." She whispered, tasting the salty tears that streamed down her face and onto her trembling lips. Those masked boys knew exactly who they were tormenting, the pretty and naive girl who was too nice for Hammel, too ignorant to know that she had unknowingly rejected the advances of their leader. Stefan was a senior boy, handsome as he was arrogant and completely obsessed with the perky little exchange student, too bad Amelie had publicly shut him down without knowing it.

A broken heart had broken the girl that night and she didn't know why, and that's what hurt.

"Evan...p-please just...it's okay...I-I'm just...I made a m-mistake..." She weakly confessed, feeling the ball in her throat sting as another round of sobs began to tear through the last of her energy. The searing hunger in her stomach was actually outweighed by her exhaustion and the horrible cold which seeped into her bones, threatening to freeze her over. "...I'm s-sorry..." She whimpered, collapsing into the boy as the last strain of terror swept through her form. She was cold, hungry, broken...but not alone, not when she had him around.

"Hmmm..." Amé hummed, furrowing her brow as she attempted to map out the possibilities of what to do that night. Go out for a fancy meal? Relive their youth? Watch some B-rate horror film? The list was endless and stayed silent for a moment before finally squeezing his wrists, as if signalling that she had made up her mind. "You know! We always have more fun when we improvise!" She chirped, before shoving a triple chocolate cookie into her gaping maw. Oh god, that was so sweet.

"So...how does this work? Does the guy pick me up or does feminism state I have to pick you up? Speaking of which! I recently saw the most recent fast and furious movie..."

[Evan Coleman]

"Slowly! I SAID SLOWLY! Watch for the . . . OH GOD . . . no, wait, you . . . Turn! Turn signals! Just . . . Mary motheroffuckfuckfuck . . ."

It was in the general miasma of panic that Evan saw the parked vespa incoming. A curious crawl settled on the scene: Amé, her need-for-speed ebullience trailing from her like the orange DNA of a god best forgotten, her eyes slightly widening as the curb came ever closer, laden with breakable things and unsuspecting pedestrians . . . his own hands, curled into fantastic shapes out of sheer anxiety, and a sudden awareness that his mouth was twisted into a bizarre rictus of terror . . . a dog was barking somewhere . . .

WUMP.

EEEEH-EEEEH-EEEEH-EEEEEH

Of course the vespa had an alarm, Evan thought to himself in a daze of despair. Of course it did.

"You . . ." he hummed out in a monotone, "you, my dear, are insane."

"Oh! Improv? Improv is fun! You can't spell "improve" without improv! Also "prove", but I don't think that has any bearing here. Let's see, you could . . . wait, you what?"

Evan, I have a haiku for you!

Edify me, Other Evan!

Amé drives again
Vin Diesel movie in mind
Closed casket service

Yesssss . . . apt.

"How about . . . how about we maybe meet somewhere in the center of town and go from there? You know, for greater improvising possibility . . ."

Letting the "y" run, he stepped up to her and began shaking her shoulders, exaggerated (although not as exaggerated as one might assume) look of terror on his face.

"AND SO THAT I DON'T DIE, YOU CRAZY CRAZY WOMAN!"

Hugs again. Just because.

"It's okay, Amé . . . it's all okay . . . just rest up. You'll be fine . . ."

And so, whispering as many calming platitudes as he could, Evan held on to her as she shivered and dripped egg and tears, and contemplated bloody murder.

Evan only knew Stefan as a minor imposing presence that would occasionally appear just to give him a minor headache. Amé had a well-heeled ability to lack awareness of the most basic social cues, and the fact that Stefan had clearly wanted her was entirely lost on the poor girl. He'd known that the boy was full of himself, and that being shut down got in the way of his alpha-male bullshit, but THIS . . . THIS meant war.

Stefan . . . that ratfink sonofabitch. Knock him down and stomp on his face. Take a metal rod from shop class and apply forcibly to his stomach and sternum. Hold his fingers in a car door and slam. Pop his goddamn eyeballs like bubble wrap.

Ahem, Other Evan?

Go away Evan. Trying to remember what the firearm laws are in this state.

Yes, I understand, but I have something I wish to point out: Isn't Stefan's main claim to his station based on sociality? Does not his sense of entitlement flow from his nigh-umblemished alpha-dominant place in Hammel's social hierarchy, and his group of minions that back him up?

Yes . . .

And do we not have, as friends, some of the finest psychic muck-rakers, secret-sniffers, and embarrassment-farmers that Hammel has to offer?

Oh . . . OH! Ohhhhhhhh . . .

Amé was whimpering still. Evan stroked her hair with his free hand, as his other arm circled around her and held her as tightly as it could.

"Don't worry," he whispered, "We're gonna take care of this . . ."