I Need a Lawyer! [Colbalt]

[Tamsin Craig]

*---outfit

Tam wasn’t sure what to expect at Hammel when she first came, but she knew that being sick was not part of her agenda.

She hated all this white stuff. It got in her clothes and got her wet, and it was cold. The teachers had called it ‘snow’ and said that it was a ‘regular occurrence’ in countries that were farther away from the middle of the world. In all her life in Australia, she had never seen such a thing. She had wrote a letter to her Mother about it, explaining it in very intricate detail, about how it started off in little tiny flakes and how all the flakes added up to make a white blanket that covered the ground and trees and how when it got taken inside it melted into water. Tamsin wondered if she could mail snow to her mother, but the Hammel people said no because it would melt.

Tamsin liked the snow at first, even if it made her cold, but then she got sick and she hated it, because she had never gotten sick like this when she lived in Australia. It might have also been from all her new clothes that she had been given, both in Australia and after arriving at Hammel. She was still getting used to wearing shoes and socks all the time, but she was convinced that her boots were the best boots ever made, they were so comfortable and warm. She vowed to never wear anything else until they were worn out. She was allowed out of Hammel for the first time now because she was being good and quiet- it wasn’t hard, considering she didn’t have anyone to talk to. Her chocolate trick hadn’t worked, she had offered it to a girl who said it would make her fat, a boy who said that she’d ‘have to try harder than that’ (whatever that meant), and another girl who asked her if she was a ‘lesbian’, which Tamsin had no idea what that was and felt foolish when she asked and the girl laughed in her face.

With that in mind, Tamsin had gone out into town, her chocolate bar in her coat pocket along with two dollars in quarters that she had found while she hung out under the bleachers in the gymnasium. She was walking around and looking at the buildings, arms crossed as she looked around. Every once in a while she would stop to stare at words in windows, mouthing them as she sounded them off. One of the windows she stopped at was giving her trouble, not because she was having trouble but because she wasn’t sure what it meant.

“Blue… And Gold. L-Law… firm.” She muttered again, tilting her head as she knitted her eyebrows together, trying to figure out what it meant. She went to the window and cupped her hands around it, looking inside to see desks and paper and other office looking things. She stood back and scratched at her neck with her mitten, sniffing before spitting on the sidewalk. A passing woman made a sound of disgust and Tam felt a little embarrassed, and wiped the spit thinner with the toe of her boot. She was trying really hard to remember what a ‘Law Firm’ was, and it wasn’t going so well.

All she could think of was that one time when her Mama hired a lawyer to give her some papers to get rid of her papa but since she couldn’t sign her name she couldn’t do anything with them and the lawyer man got mad because she tried to pay him in flour. Then when Mama wanted to get a paper saying that Tamsin shouldn’t have to go away, the lawyer wouldn’t come back even though her Grandmama had saved enough to pay him. Was that what a law firm was about? If it was, could a lawyer get her a paper to get her sent home?

Tamsin decided that finding out was worth a shot. She pushed on the door next to the window, but she realized it was a pull door and, feeling embarrassed, opened the door slowly. She moved in all quiet-like, and looked around as she took her mittens off and shoved them in her coat pocket. At least it was warm inside.

“Hey? Anyone ‘round?”

[Cobalt Weaver]

It was really snowing when Cobalt drove into the office, early that morning. It had been snowing off and on for the rest of the day, not that Cobalt had really noticed. Surprisingly, he’d been relatively busy, filling out paperwork, taking calls and other such busy work while Leila was out. At least she got the chance to keep busy; Cobalt was more comfortable (though admittedly not as happy) doing office deskwork for weeks at a time than Leila was. Paperwork drove her up the wall. And at any rate, he was in a fairly good mood, having had a chance to work things out with Ben, and he’d made some kind of headway with Ruth’s super speed problem. He wondered if he should try to get in contact with her, or wait for her to come to him. He certainly didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. Either way, he was glad things had worked out with Ben for several reasons: so that he wouldn’t have to feel guilty for disliking the vast majority of Josh’s friends, and because he could get Ben’s advice on dealing with teenagers. That was, after all, Ben’s job.

He was tapping a terse email out on the computer when he noticed a shadow in the newly replaced window. He glanced over to see a dubious looking teenage girl peering inside with a knitted brow. She didn’t notice his gaze and he figured she was probably expecting some other store. He wasn’t sure what the office was before they had bought it, but it could have been a store that she was expecting to see. Turning back to his computer, he went back to the tedious task of reading and responding to emails. He didn’t notice the girl try to push open the pull door, nor did he realize she’d entered until she called out.

Cobalt looked up in surprise. He hadn’t expected the girl to actually come in. Re-evaluating the situation, Cobalt looked at the tan girl. She looked dubious and out of place and a little nervous. And at her age and given where they were, she was probably a student at Hammel. He leaned over his desk slightly, a little concerned. “Yes? Did you need some help?”

[Tamsin Craig]

Tamsin was getting used to the cluttered interior when the voice of a man answered her call, causing her to jump just bit. She should’ve been expecting it, because she was pretty sure all lawyers were men, but he had a voice that cut through the silence like a knife. There was a flutter of breeze around the room as she was startled, and a few papers rustled, but paperweights kept most of them down. The few that floated off their stacks were nearest to her, and she silently bent to pick them up, careful to place them where they were supposed to go.

The teen was quiet for a moment, looking the man over with a guarded stare. She was wary of men by nature, and this man wasn’t any different, even if he might be a lawyer or might not be. In any case, he kind of scared her- she didn’t like his mustache or the way his cheeks looked all sunk in like he hadn’t eaten.. He looked angry, which made her want to recoil, like one would from a snake. Even though she was scared, Tamsin refused to run away from him or act shy. She wasn’t the kind of kid to run from her fears.

Her Grandmamma always told her: ‘Don’t be afraid, be angry’.

She stood a decent distance from his desk, shoving her hands in her pockets as she stared for a minute, taking her time in answering him. She sized up people first and asked questions later.

Later would be now, she decided. “You a lawyer?” She angled her head away from him, but not her eyes, narrowing them to look more serious and less nervous. She had to look tough, or he wouldn’t take her seriously. This was her best ‘tough’ face. She may have looked fearless, but her hands were sweating. What if she was wrong? She kept going on, even if she was. “If you are, I gotta job that needs doing. I’ll pay you, like.” She wasn’t sure how she would pay him, but she would, if he could get her home. That was all that mattered: getting home to her family. Her sisters still needed her, and she wasn’t sure how long she’d be in Hammel. Going was a bad idea. She should’ve made up a windstorm in Australia and ran off into the dust the moment that Midori lady came to take her. How could she be talked into coming?

[Cobalt Weaver]

When the girl started, the breeze she created out of fear and surprise did not escape Cobalt’s attention. Definitely from Hammel, then. And another aerokinetic too. Well, it wasn’t as though Cobalt had never dealt with aerokinesis before; he certainly wished Leila were here still. Her presence would probably help, since the girl looked just this side of terrified at the sight of Cobalt. Everything about her screamed out of place and he didn’t know how to make her feel less awkward. He watched her scrutinize him, then harden her expression into one she undoubtedly thought was an intimidating one. It was like looking through a warped funhouse mirror; Cobalt could remember several occasions when he made a face extremely similar to hers as a younger child. He’d believed then, with the logic of a teenager, that nobody would take you seriously if you looked scared. As she scrutinized him, he paid her the same courtesy, trying to see what he could figure out from her appearance, sensing that she wouldn’t be all that forthcoming. She seemed almost as suspicious as he was when he was around her age. God help them both.

She was smaller, and looked younger than she probably was, with tanned skin and an accent from what sounded like Australia, but he wasn’t sure. He knew there were other places that produced similar accents. She shifted in her shoes every once in a while, like she wasn’t used to wearing shoes that were nice; or like she wasn’t used to wearing shoes at all. Her clothes looked relatively new and she had looked fairly bewildered and out of place when she had peeked in through his window. So, probably new to Hammel and the state of Vermont, if not completely new to the country altogether. And she needed help.

Cobalt looked at her, eyebrow raised. Her dialect was strong, and her grammar awful, but he figured that she’d found him all on her own, so she was probably smarter than one would give her credit for. He knew better than to patronize her. “Yes, I am a lawyer. What kind of help did you need?” He couldn’t imagine why she would want a lawyer of all things. She could only be about fourteen or fifteen years old.

[Tamsin Craig]

If only the whole world could be full with straight answers like that. If there was one thing Tamsin hated, more than snow, or being at Hammel, it was adults who liked to talk down to her. They acted all high and mighty and if she asked them a question, they’d give her a sardonic answer, or worse, go into much more depth then they had to. Adults like those were the reason Tamsin didn’t ask the usual childhood questions like ‘why is the sky blue’ and the dreaded ‘where do babies come from’. Most times she walked away more confused than when she had started. But this man wasn’t one of those people. He’d given her a straight answer without one of those condescending smiles or without going overboard. Short, quick, and to the point.

She liked him already.

Confidence renewed, Tamsin stepped up to his desk, looked around, then grabbed a chair and hauled it over without ceremony, plopping down in it like she owned it. She figured she may as well get comfortable, if she was going to be there for a while. “I’m Tamsin Craig.” She started, which was really the only sentence in English she knew well enough not to muck up with her lack of grammar. The rest of her speech, however, was so bad that I urge any grammar Nazis to hide their red pens now. “I go to that there Hammel school, and they took me ‘way from home, but I wanna go back. So if’n you have something, a paper I could sign, like, to get me back home to my Mama, an’ my sisters, I’d like one.” She remembered the chocolate bar and the quarters in her coat pocket and drew them out, slapping the mass on his desk. “I’ll give you that now, as a… What’s it.” She paused for a moment, trying to think. “Down payment, that’s it. An’ I’ll give you more when I get some.” She paused after her speech, which was probably the longest utterance she had made since stepping foot into the United States, and tried to think of something else to say. All she could think of, though, was how much she missed her sisters, and how Kylie was probably sad because her sister had broke her promise and wasn’t there to protect her.

“I just wanna go home, sir.” Tamsin muttered, looking up at him with one of the saddest expressions she could muster without crying, because she was too old to cry.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt watched her plunk herself down into the chair and distantly admired her confidence. He’d been nowhere near that confident as a child, which he’d compensated for by being nastier. He listened to her speech, a growing feeling of sympathy and compassion coiling in his chest. And then she piled what looked to be two or three dollars in quarters and a chocolate bar, Cobalt was pretty sure his heart was going to break right then and there. He’d encountered children who’d wanted to go home before, but he’d never had one approach him directly and ask for his help. This was the problem he had with Hammel; that there were children that felt so trapped or uncomfortable there that they didn’t even talk to the teachers or staff and instead opted to go to strangers for help.

When she was done, he smoothed out his expression, which he was sure looked a little distressed, and leaned forward, making sure to make eye contact with the girl. He paused, trying to think of how to word it so that she could understand a complex concept without making it sound like he was talking down at her. “Tamsin.” He said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “Please believe me when I say that I would like nothing more than to just give you a paper that would send you straight home. However, the rules are such that I don’t have anything like that. Legally, I cannot do anything to send you home unless your parents contact me and tell me that they want you to come home.” He hated to tell her this, especially since it was entirely possible that her parents agreed for her to go to Hammel. “May I ask where you’re from?” Maybe that would help him get a handle on her dialect, and a bit more information on her situation. He highly doubted that he would have much of a case either way, but it never hurt to get more information. Besides, he felt for her and was impressed with her courage, to come into a stranger’s office and ask for help.

“There is another way to get out of here, Tamsin.” Cobalt looked at her with a wry smile, “Unfortunately, it’s not as simple or as quick as a release paper, but it’s certainly within your grasp. It’s something that I figured out during my stay at Hammel.” He paused a moment, thinking about the best way to word this. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but the best way to get out of Hammel is to do well in school and power training. Let me explain,” He added, seeing her expression close off, “Hammel can let you graduate early if you excel in your classes and master your power. It’s… hard, and it will be harder for you because you’re not a native language speaker, but I think you can do it. And even if you don’t get out sooner,” Cobalt shrugged helplessly, “At the very least you will have access to resources that will help you and your family have a better life when you return. Which is something.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead, “I wish I could give you a better solution, I really do. But this way you can do something to take back your life, in a sense.” He gently pushed her change and candy bar back towards her. “I do appreciate that you sought help outside the school, it was very clever and brave of you. And if you need any help, academic or otherwise, my door is always open to you. Once my partner comes back from her trip, she could probably help you with your power. She’s an aerokinetic as well.” He hoped he was helping, since he was still stinging from his inability to help her legally. It was always aggravating when he couldn’t help people as a lawyer; that was why he’d decided to become one.

[Tamsin Craig]

Tamsin was almost certain that she was having some sort of effect on him. When she dropped the quarters on his desk, he looked upset, and not in the angry sort of way. He looked like he wanted to help her, and she was confident, so much so that she gave half a smile.

When he started talking, though, she smile vanished, and he shoulders sank. She stared blankly at him as he told her that he couldn't just give her a paper that would put her on a plane back home. The only way for her to go home is if her parents talked to him. "But, but, my Mama don't have no phone, and she can't write." She didn't bother to say that her Father was dead. In fact, just thinking about it made her feel sick inside, because that was what made her have to come out to Hammel in the first place- killing her father. She felt the rustle of air around her and she looked outside, noting that the white stuff was blowing around an awful lot. Tamsin gulped and shoved the sick feeling down. "I'm from Jigalong, West Australia. It's a settlement." She paused. "For just us Martu aborigines." She pulled at her hair and looked away, because she hated saying it like that. It made her sound like some backwoods heathen who didn't know anything. Jigalong had a school and everything though, even if it only had six teachers. It was still a pretty good school, or she thought so, but now that she was in Hammel and was taking some class for English as a second language, she felt stupid.

The man started talking about another way out of Hammel, and Tamsin sat up straight. She was expecting some sort of escape mission. But, when he started discussing the option of power training, Tamsin slumped back down in her chair, looking quite the part of the sullen teenager. She didn't want to train. It sounded hard and obnoxious, and she figured that as long as she kept her temper in check she wouldn't hurt anyone else. Why didn't anyone else get that? She was about to get up and storm out- in fact, she was sitting up in her chair and getting ready to stand- but then he said some key words that made her sit right back down and pay attention.

'family have a better life'

If she stayed at Hammel, she'd learn.
If she learned, she could go to one of those colleges.
If she went to college, she'd get a good job and make money.
If she made money, her Mama and sisters and Aunt and Grandmamma wouldn't have to live in that old shack anymore.

That alone made her sit back and nod, hanging onto every word the man said. She'd get into smart people classes. She'd train every day. She'd get out as fast as she could. Then, Tamsin would go home and bring her family back, and they could see the snow for themselves. They could live in a big house. Her sisters could go to real school. They wouldn't have to be afraid of anyone or anything anymore.

Everything would be better.

She watched him push her money back and she took it, because she would need it so she could get more school supplies. She saw a store for that on her way over. She held the chocolate bar for a moment, though, and extended it back to him. "Back in Australia, told myself I give this candy to a person, so they be a friend of mine. ...You want it, sir?" He certainly deserved it, giving her all this advice for free. She didn't even know his name. He was offering her a place to come so she could learn, and everything. It was like she had just been handed a new life. The least he should get was a chocolate bar. Maybe even a hug. But Tamsin was not a hugging person.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Tamsin was frustrated. It was coming off of her in waves, and the snow flurries whipping around the outside window didn’t escape Cobalt’s attention. Her power didn’t alarm him too much, however; Leila had been much more intimidating on her rare bad days. But that didn’t mean her anger and frustration didn’t have any affect of the shadow manipulator. He wanted to help her, dammit, and it drove him crazy that he couldn’t. And her situation was even more unusual because she wasn’t even from America, so on top of everything else, even if he could help her, he’d have to traipse through the quagmire of international law. And that would probably be messy; he wasn’t all that acquainted with Australian law. He knew that it was represented by the common laws in Britain, but there were minute differences that he’d never had the occasion to learn, which he was now obviously regretting. “Jigalong,” Cobalt repeated, committing the name to memory. He’d never heard of it, but he had heard of aborigines from a class he’d taken once upon a time. It had been something like a race and discrimination class, and he’d done follow-up research on his own because the subject had fascinated him. He was relatively aware of what her situation may be in Australia, and her hesitation at telling him who she was told him enough. He didn’t know what to tell her, didn’t quite know how to say that she still seemed to care far too much about what people thought of her, that she should be proud of whatever she was and until she stopped caring about that, she would keep feeling out of place and lonely.

But Cobalt wasn’t big on unsolicited advice, so he kept quiet. When she wanted his advice about those kinds of things, he would talk to her then. He figured she’d appreciate that more.

When he mentioned her family, Tamsin sat up, a look of concentration on her face. She was listening to every word he was saying, now. He felt a little better; he’d given her a goal, something to shoot for, and if she was anything like he was as a teenager, that would help. And he resolved to help her as much as he could to reach her goals.

He watched as she took her change back, a look of determination in her eye. Then, she stared at the chocolate bar for a moment before offering it back to him. Cobalt was touched, to say the least, and he allowed a smile to spread across his face. “Thank you very much, Tamsin.” He took the candy bar, and reached into his desk drawer. Cobalt was never without candy, as a matter of habit, and he produced a Snickers bar out of the desk and offered it to her. He gave her a smile, “It’s only fair.”

“So what classes are you in right now, Tamsin?” He asked, unwrapping the candy. It was probably old and a little stale, but hey. Candy was candy, and Cobalt had never found an occasion to turn down candy. He also wanted to figure out how much help she wanted from him. If she wanted, he was willing to help her after school with her problem classes. He suspected she was also taking a class in English as a second language, which would undoubtedly frustrate her. But he wouldn’t force it; if she wanted his help, she would ask. She’d already demonstrated that she had no problem asking strangers for assistance. Hopefully, it would be even easier to ask a friend.

[ooc: augh. Sorry this took so long/kind of sucks. It fought me the whole way >.<']

[Tamsin Craig]

Tamsin smiled as he took the candy, a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. It looked out of place on her gaunt face, as if she was copying a face that someone else had made. One could tell she didn’t do it that often. Her face returned to the normal look of neutrality; she was back to being perceptive and unnoticeable. She had learned long ago that fading into the background was a good way to survive. She was a child that followed her instincts and shut up for her own good. Nobody broke that shell.

She took the chocolate and looked it over, but didn’t unwrap it. She put it in her coat pocket with her change. She wasn’t a fan of chocolate, but it was rude not to accept a gift and she didn’t want to get on the wrong foot with this man at all. She pulled her legs up to sit crosslegged in the chair and watched him eat. He asked her a question, she blinked and shrugged.

“Classes by myself mostly. I take ESL, which is just English for kids who don’t know nothing ‘bout it.” It was awful, even worse than the nunnery. She hated the books; they had pictures of smiling people with easy words under them, and Tamsin wasn’t stupid- she count to one hundred in English, name the seasons, and all that stuff. They thought she didn’t for some reason- she glared at her teacher whenever he asked her to answer a question, because he asked her like she was stupid and smiled and said it was okay if she didn’t know, which made her more angry. “I walked out one day. They ain’t happy ‘bout it.” They wanted her to see the psychologist about it. She refused. “Then I got math by myself ‘cause they think since I don’t got what they call ‘formal schooling’ I can’t do basic stuff right.” They were asking her to multiply and divide and add and subtract, all of which she could do, but Moore River must’ve told them she couldn’t because she didn’t participate in the lessons there.

She stretched. “Then I got gym and that’s fun, ‘cause I’m good at that. I’m good at running and climbing and jumping and stuff.” She was amazing at it. She just wouldn’t swim in the pool. “And I got science with the young kids and they teaching us ‘bout planets.” She tried to remember the rest of her classes. “Then I got lunch, which is free and tastes good though people stare at me lots. And then I got a class where I can do my homework and they call it study hall but it’s in a room.” She stopped. “Then I got power training. Then I go back to the dorm, even though rest of the kids stay in class. They wanna put me in a room with a psychologist,” She pronounced the word slowly, “But I told ‘em I don’t wanna so they said I don’ have to.” Maybe that was a bad thing? She looked to the man and realized something.

“I still don’ know your name, sir.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt listened to her rundown of her classes, nodding periodically to show that he was still paying attention. Okay, so ESL. That was an easily predictable situation: Tamsin was smart—of that he had no doubt—but the girl was proud, and the instructors probably mistook her anger at their condescension (be it perceived or imaginary) as confusion and misunderstanding. That had happened to him when he was a child. Once. Unlike Tamsin, it would seem, Cobalt had had no qualms setting them straight. But still. Her grammar was confused and her accent was stronger than most. That probably didn’t help her feel very at home or comfortable, which undoubtedly contributed. The math was an easy fix though. Irritating that it had happened, but easily rectifiable, if she was willing. From what it sounded, she was in a place she didn’t want to be, with people who were strange and a little scary and made her feel stupid and she was so angry about it, she was inadvertently sabotaging herself.

Subtract the culture shock and didn’t that sound familiar.

Cobalt gave her a slight smile, “Well, certainly if you don’t want to see a psychologist, you don’t have to.” She probably wouldn’t like Sean all that much anyways. And that was Cobalt’s opinion without his preexisting bias. “But really, ESL is a class you could easily excel in, it’s just that the problem is that it requires practice and repetition, which is a pain, but.” Cobalt shrugged, as if to say ‘what can you do’. “I can figure why you don’t like that class. You’re a smart girl, Tamsin. You’re clever, even I can see that. It’s just that…” Cobalt considered his words carefully, “Some people don’t understand the difference between being quiet because you’re annoyed and being quiet because you don’t understand.” He held out his hands helplessly, “You’d honestly think it wouldn’t be all that hard to figure out, but there you go. When you feel like you’re being treated like you’re stupid, you don’t talk, more or less, right? But what some of those instructors see is someone being silent because they don’t understand. My best advice to you?” he leaned forward a bit, a smile on his face, “Prove ‘em wrong. Now, before I say anything else: I am offering you help that you under no obligation to take. Just thinking that maybe you’d like to know you have options.” He paused, making sure that point was clear, “You are welcome, if you would like, to stop by a couple times a week for practice on your English. I’m no instructor, technically, but I know English and I promise,” He held a hand up and pressed the other hand over his heart, “I won’t talk to you like you’re stupid. I know better than that.”

“The math’s actually a pretty easy fix. I was in the same boat when I went to Hammel. If I remember correctly, you just have to request to take a placement test to get into a higher class. You just have to figure out if you’re ready for it, or if you wanna take it easy your first year to get acclimated and then try next year.” He shrugged easily, “That’s entirely up to you though. I’m just a resource.”

He started in surprise when she asked for his name. “Oh shoot, I’m sorry, Tamsin. My name’s Cobalt Weaver.” He held out his hand for the teenager to shake, “Nice to meet you.” He grinned at her.

[Tamsin Craig]

Tamsin listened intently to the lawyer’s advice and her eyebrows shot into her hair as she realized what he was saying. It was if a missing part was placed into her brain and now everything made sense. “Yeah! So’s I just tell ‘em what they wanna hear and make ‘em realize I ain’t stupid.” She brightened visibly as this information occurred to her, and she made a plan to answer everything she was asked- and she was never wrong. Not yet, at least.

She leaned forward when he did, and to any random passerby they looked like they were conspiring. Tamsin had her most serious face on as she nodded, hanging on to the old man’s every word like a shipwrecked sailor to a piece of driftwood. She needed this man to survive. His advice was vital to her survival in the big school on the hill; without it, she’d never get out of there. “I’d like that.” She said, happy to receive tutelage from him in English. She’d feel silly taking it from anyone else, and he was a nice man. True, she was still a little suspicious of him- sometimes nice men had ulterior motives- but she had faith in her abilities to fend for herself if he made any moves.

After all, she had killed a grown man before.

That single thought made her sink back in her chair and she looked nauseous for a bit. She tried to push it to the back of her head and the wind blew, hard, for a moment outside, rattling the window before dissipating as fast as it came. She went on nodding as he went on to explain her getting out of a simple math class. “I’ll do that, then. I’ll show ‘em.” She’d look at a math book first, of course. She knew what studying was about, and she would try it, and maybe she’d be put in a math class she was supposed to be in. “Who do I talk to ‘bout that?”

When he introduced himself, she shook his hand firmly, like she was taught when she was little. Firm handshakes meant you weren’t afraid of a person, and that you respected them. She gave his hand a final shake before letting go, a subtle way to show that, while she respected him, she was not going to obey his every command. At the moment, however, the idea of her not doing everything he said was looking bleak. “Mr. Weaver, nice to meet you.” She paused and sat back in her seat, looking around for a moment as there was a lull of silence.

She should probably leave. She had work to do and books to look over. Before she left, though, she wanted to ask him a final question. “Mr. Weaver? Do people get sent to jail if they kill someone on an accident? Well, not on an accident. But, what if’n they had to?”

[Cobalt Weaver]

Cobalt grinned slightly as the teenager’s face lit up in epiphany. “There you go,” He encouraged, “It’ll be a lot of hard work, and frustrating sometimes, but you can do it.” At least he felt he had given good advice in that regard; now Tamsin had a goal in mind and something to keep her motivated. He really hoped he was doing the right thing, in offering to help her himself and not encouraging her to go to someone at Hammel. To be sure, the staff at Hammel were trained and probably far better qualified to help and give her advice, but what good would that do her if she didn’t go? She didn’t trust them yet, and she needed someone to trust. Cobalt figured that he could be her ally until she felt comfortable going to someone at school. Sometimes you just needed to feel like someone was on your side.

Cobalt watched Tamsin carefully as she sank in her chair momentarily. The wind outside picked up, rattling against the window, and Cobalt was briefly reminded of Leila and how the wind would act according to her mood. Obviously, he knew that aerokinesis could differ from person to person, but it still didn’t stop him from wondering. Her face, however, was neutral, and she moved on quickly, revealing nothing. Absently, Cobalt wondered what had happened to make her so able to hide her feelings at her age. But he said nothing; just because Tamsin had agreed to his help didn’t mean she trusted him entirely. That, and it really wasn’t any of his business. In answer to her question, Cobalt sighed, trying to remember what he did. It had been a rather long time ago. “I believe you talk to your teacher about it.”

As they shook hands, Cobalt nodded, smiling slightly, “Nice to meet you too, Tamsin. You can call me Cobalt, if you like.” He shrugged, “Mr. Weaver always sounds weird to me.” He raised an eyebrow briefly at her firm grip, her message relayed loud and clear. Okay. Cobalt would respect her desire to be in control as long as she treated him with general respect. This could work out well.

Tamsin’s question stopped him short. Cobalt stared at her in surprise for a moment; what on earth had happened to this girl? Possible explanations, each as unpleasant as the next, rolled around in his head. He wanted to ask her why, what had happened, but he already knew that wouldn’t be a very good idea. Tamsin simply didn’t trust him yet. So did the next best thing. He answered her question: “Uh. Well, no. Not usually.” He pushed up his glasses distractedly, “If there are extenuating circumstances, then usually other arrangements are made. And in the case of self defense especially, it’s not even an issue.” Cobalt looked at her carefully, his face concerned. He wanted to tell Tamsin that if she was in that situation, then she wouldn’t go to jail. Not if he could help it. He wanted to offer to help her, to ask her to talk to him so that he could protect her. But he knew exactly how well that would go. So he said: “Tamsin, if you’re in any trouble, or need help in that respect… this is a safe place, here. All you need to do is ask.” And that was all he said. No pressure, no prodding. Just so she knew.

[Tamsin Craig]

She shouldn't have done that. She really shouldn't have- she should have just kept quiet. Tamsin shook her head violently and began to backpedal. She should have been more subtle about her situation, she shouldn't have just dived into it like that. Now he was going to look at her record or call the school and find out what she did and then he'd think she was a criminal and would never talk to her ever again. She couldn't have that- so she shook her head. Violently. "No, no. Not me. I'm just fine. Just a curiosity, that's a all." She tried to sound sincere. Maybe he would believe her and think it really was someone else: it wouldn't surprise her in the least. Adults were quick to believe that other adults did bad things because they hated blaming calamities on children.

Tamsin was relieved to hear his advice though: she couldn't make sense of half of it, but she was sure that, put together, it all meant a single word. No. No, she would not go to jail. She wouldn't be blamed. She would be allowed to go home without any problems. She would not ask anyone else for help. She could live with her sisters and her Mother again and nobody would hound her. It was self defense. It was all self defense. She could tell people that, right? Even if she wasn't the one in danger? What if someone else was in danger? But, what if they weren't?

Was it all a lie?

Tamsin stood, looking worried as she began to button her coat again. She needed to get out of there, or else she was going to spill her guts about everything and then she'd be in trouble. She hated that look he was giving her too, and she didn't want to hate him. It was best if she left. "Thank ya for the advice, Mr. Colbalt sir." She wouldn't call him 'Mr. Weaver', since he didn't want her too, but that wouldn't stop her from calling him 'sir' or putting a Mr. in front of his first name. It was the least she could do. "I needa get goin' now. Gotta get back to school and get that test and the like."

She backed out quickly, waving a little before grabbing hold of the door to pull, but found that, again, the door only opened one way. "Hooroo." She let the Australian slang slip out before she could correct herself. Then, with a whirl of motion, she was out the door and running as fast as she could toward the school, feet hitting the pavement with a staccato rhythm.

She had work to do.