don't go easy on me { marlin<3 }

[Carlin Drave]

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[atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i48.tinypic.com/28sn5mf.jpg); background-repeat:no-repeat; width: 500px; height:524px;] "Dialogue." Thoughts. He had chosen the orange bowtie that Mary had picked out, but it had done him no good. The date had been a disaster: Rebecca had gotten them kicked out, and then he had caused her to faint. It was like something out a book. Maybe he did live in a book: in novels, the sweet best friend never got the girl. Last night he had told her nothing about the way he felt; in fact, he was even more forced into the friend-zone when she let him sleep in the bed and thought nothing of it. He had "slept with her" but it wasn't in the way he had imagined it would be. He was a coward, and even the morning after he had said nothing. Lucas had come by, and by then he had lost all confidence in confessing his secret. It was a few days later: a Monday, which was a bad day for everyone. The weekend had been entirely depressing and unsuccessful. He had been a bit moody during his work, which never happened; his customers could probably tell that something was bothering him. But, he had to look at the positive: he was now looking forward to spending time with Mary again. She wasn't like anyone else he had met around Miala, and she intrigued him greatly. There was still that nagging thought that he should go to the hospital and ask for a record of her attendance, but....if the Houxon Grill was willing to hire, he shouldn't be worrying about her being an escaped prisoner. No, she was just a very odd girl -- who he now considered to be a friend. Or, at least for the time being; she would probably end this friendship once he dominated her in soccer. He had been practicing all Sunday afternoon to prepare for their one-on-one. Back at the mall, they had schedule a match in the park after their shifts on Monday. Now, Carlin was waiting for her at the entrance of the Grill. Mary and his shifts had ended at the same time, but her last table was huge, but his was only an elderly couple who ate quickly. The man wasn't very tall, and his wife had long, red hair like Rebecca: it had made him smile. And also remember how pathetic he was. After his shift was over at 5:00, he went into the restroom and changed into the second pair of clothes he had brought. Dressed in a sleeveless tank and dark blue gym shorts, along with a pair of scuffed tennis shoes, he went back out and waited for Mary by the entrance. He said goodbye to the couple he had waited for as they left the restaurant. His boss had told him he could only wait a few minutes (taking up spaces that could be used by guests) so he hoped Mary would finish soon.

[Mary Aoife Stuart]

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[atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i45.tinypic.com/ebexie.jpg);background-repeat:no-repeat;width: 600px;height:523px;] "Dialogue." Thoughts. Mary flitted about Houxton's as she moved to the every whim of her customer's. She grinned at all the kids, handed out crayons, and added a little extra whip cream to desserts if the kids were good. She loved serving families - even if they reminded her of home. The parents were usually polite, the kids usually weren't brats, and she always got to know the regular families. She might not remember their names (which scared some of the flightier parents away), but she always remembered which kids played each sport and what they did. They were way more fun to serve than those groups of snobby college kids or slow-moving elders. She wished she were serving them now. The blonde was getting the slightest bit annoyed with the group of rowdy footballers in front of her. She wasn't exactly sure if they were drunk or under the influence of anything. She didn't understand half of what they said, and they were loud, rowdy, and large. Thankfully, though, they were almost done. Even if they weren't taking the hint. She moved over to the table, absently tapping the table with her purple pen. Or was it green? She wished she could test it out, but her manager had told her that she wasn't allowed to mark up her hands. Something about being the first step to tattoos or something perfectly silly like that. "Alrighty, guys. I know your coach and it's getting late. I'd head off home - and by home I mean the bar - if you guys want to get to bed early. Study habits, right?" She glanced at the guy closest to her and slammed her pen against the table. She kept the smile on her face. Luckily, though, they got the message. She grinned gratefully and patted a few on the back. She loved the fact that she knew the coach. He wasn't one of her teachers, but she'd made it a point to talk to him. And they got along. He reminded her of her dad, and he put up with her by ignoring her most of her time (her dad didn't do that, but they both had the same drole sarcasm). The best part, though, was that the football players knew she knew their coach. A wicked twinkle appeared in her eyes as she handed the final receipt to the main guy and spun around, untying her apron. "Nice..." one of them called, and Mary turned around, a bright glint in her eye. "...Smile you have there, Mary," he finished lamely. She laughed and quickly clocked out and dashed over to the bathroom. She noticed Carlin head out the door and sighed. Stupid footballers and all the food they ordered. The coach may be great and all, but footballers themselves were usually idiots. They were keeping her from hanging out with her friend. Probably the only one she had at the moment. She waved a goodbye to her replacement and trotted out of the restaurant in one of her navy "Go for Gold, USA" shirts, black shorts and two different colored socks - one orange, one red. She flashed a grin at her work-friend. Or whatever title she'd made up awhile ago and promptly forgotten. "Hey! Ready to lose? I'll race you over there, too. Unless you need to save energy. I'm not going easy on you, so you'll probably need it. So we're walking. Sorry about making you wait. The only reason they left so quickly was because I know their coach. Imagine if I didn't. How are you doing today? How'd the date go? Actually. No. We can talk about that later. The second question. Still answer the first. Are you still rusty? What position did - or do - you play?" She gestured wildly, her face flushing with excitement. It'd been awhile since she'd had a friend willing to play soccer with her. Since she'd moved over here, actually. She yawned as she absently added, "Or, if you don't want to walk, we can borrow a car. Once, I had an amazing ride in this silver Audi that some jerkface's parents owned. He thought he could take me to a hospital! Can you believe it? I obviously outsmarted him." She flashed a brilliant grin, only half-joking. Or rather a quarter. She was seventy-five percent serious if numbers were any clearer. The blonde grinned at the memory. She'd said that she was too unstable to check in with him. And he'd believed her, the idiot. She wasn't unstable. A bit mad, yes, but as stable as a table. A three-legged table.

[Carlin Drave]

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[atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i48.tinypic.com/28sn5mf.jpg); background-repeat:no-repeat; width: 500px; height:524px;] "Dialogue." Thoughts. She came out of the restaurant dressed like him, and it made him relax; he had been worrying he was overdressing (or, rather, under-dressing) for the match, and that she wouldn't be taking it as seriously and wear a pair of jeans or something. Not that he was taking it seriously -- it was obvious, probably to both of them, that he was going to lose big time, but he would put up a fight. Mary wasn't the kind of girl who wanted to be let win -- she wanted to earn it. He wasn't much of a competitor in football, but hopefully he could remember his highschool days and beat her in basketball. "Ready to lose? You should be asking yourself that question. And I'm not rusty -- I've been practicing over the weekend. I wasn't put in my games, but the matches that I was put in I played left-back." Mary was very hyper, it seemed more than she had been on Friday. She talked quickly and asked a lot of questions, but if Carlin could keep up with Rebecca and Lucas, then he could keep up with this girl. "To be honest, the date didn't go so well--" But apparently they weren't supposed to talk about it yet, so he shut up mid-sentence and let her finish her rambling questions. He was a bit shocked at the story she told. "Good Lord, Mary, you can't just go borrowing other people's cars--that isn't called borrowing if they didn't give you permission." So he wasn't the only one who felt Mary belonged in a mental institution. That wasn't exactly reassuring, though; maybe after they became closer friends, Carlin could go with her to the institution wing of the hospital and check for any record of her. Honestly, he needed to spend a day with her and teach her everything about being a normal, law-abiding citizen. Rebecca needed to sign up for that class, too. But he shouldn't be worrying about that right now -- he needed to get his head in the game. "It's a whole half-mile to the park -- you sure you're up to that? You brought the football, right?" He asked, looking to see if she was carrying it in a bag. They had agreed that he would bring the basketball (which he had in a gym bag slung over his shoulder) and she was meant to bring the football. "And you don't have to worry about me going easy on you. Don't let the accent fool you; I'm not that kind of gentleman. In fact--" He broke off mid-sentence, turned, and took off running towards the park. He called over his shoulder, "Last one to the park buys ice-cream after the match!"

[Mary Aoife Stuart]

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[atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i45.tinypic.com/ebexie.jpg);background-repeat:no-repeat;width: 600px;height:523px;] "Dialogue." Thoughts. Mary got pretty close to feeling bad about interrupting Carlin. She did have feelings. She just ignored all the ones that were annoying. That included guilt and anything stronger than annoyance. She bounced on her toes some as she tilted her head curiously. Left back? Huh. She wondered if he was left-footed, too. That was a good advantage over everyone else if you were on the left side. She wasn't left-footed, but she knew enough about it. She'd always loved the left side. She wasn't sure why exactly she liked it. It wasn't like she did any better on the right. But she was left-handed and the word 'left' meant devilish, evil, and malicious. Something she didn't exactly hope to be, but if it was a soccer game, she didn't mind. She could be nice after the game was over. She'd never understood people that took things seriously. She was awesome and all, but just because she beat them once, they didn't have to glare at her the whole time. The she-cat's cheery face flickered sympathetically at Carlin's mention about how swell (was that good sarcasm? she hoped so) his date went. She absently patted his shoulder but quickly moved onto another topic. She didn't feel like ruining the moment with tragic conclusions and rants about love and stuff. Mary was quite fine with leaving that until the end. Then she could be that third person in a romance that finally got the two together and was allowed to be incredibly smug about it. She'd never been told that she did smug well - but Mary was sure that, if given the opportunity, she could. She'd been given a few, but no one had actually been around to see her expression. Pity that, really. The blonde grinned at Carlin. She allowed her thoughts to stop rolling about for a moment to get herself to smile at him. "If you need anyone that can't shut up but still won't spill your secrets, I'm here. Just wait until after we're both exhausted so that it'll be easier to sleep at night for both of us, yeah? And I play left midfield. Or center mid. Or sometimes a defender. And a goalie at times. And a forward once - a wing one. So, yeah. Everywhere." She absently patted the bag she carried to make sure she remembered the bag. At his last comment, she wrinkled his nose. She laughed and waved absently toward one of the richer-looking cars in the parking lot. She barely contained her laughter as she stared at it. It wasn't as nice as the ones in Top Gear, but it was still pretty awesome. It was silver, too. Just not an Audi. She liked borrowing silver Audi's the best. It counted as revenge even when the dude didn't own it. She glanced up at Carlin as innocently as possible. She really knew it wasn't "borrowing." But she just liked to think of it that way. As much as she enjoyed it, she very rarely did it. As a matter of fact, it'd really only been, what? Twice? And both times it'd been a bully and a coward, so they really hadn't been able to stand up to her. Mary had somehow scared the heck out of them. She still wasn't sure how. Her head tilted to the side as she pretended to ignore the comment about the cars. Maybe she'd be able to trick herself into thinking that she hadn't heard it? But that meant she'd have to be thinking about it to forget it and that wouldn't exactly work without superhuman filing skills - something she didn't have. It came with the lack of censors. "Yup. I got it. Blue and white - Scot'ish colors. And you better not go easy on me. I hate it when people do that." Mary started out the comment light-heartedly, but there was a slight steeliness in her voice near the end. But she quickly covered it up with a flash of her smile. You're fine. He won't treat you like a wimp. Like someone that needs protecting. If only to prove that point, Carlin challenged her to a race right there. She laughed as she started running to chase him. She'd catch up in no time. She was quite certain of it. No, she wasn't, but she definitely had a chance. "That's a really bad challenge. Haven't you heard that Scots are 'cheap?' Really, we're just thrifty, and there's no way I'm paying for your ice cream." Mary sprinted the last few steps to fall into step with Carlin. Or maybe just a little ahead. She didn't want to let him beat her, but she didn't know what he had in him. If she over-ran now, what'd he do later? Yes, she was a cold-hearted competitor. What a surprise! Did they really expect her to be a pushover? They really wasted their brains on other things.

[Carlin Drave]

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[atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i48.tinypic.com/28sn5mf.jpg); background-repeat:no-repeat; width: 500px; height:524px;] "Dialogue." Thoughts. She listed all the positions that she had played, which did not inspire confidence. He had only played left-back because he was the only left-handed person on the team, and even when he was put in games he wasn't fantastic. He could keep up fine -- it wasn't the running that made him a poor player. He just was never emotionally invested in the game, and that showed through in his performance. He had played sports to make friends, but in the end he had never really cared about the scores. He had never planned to play professionally -- or even strive for that career. He had always known he would do something more productive in his life, more impactful. Though, Mary was probably going to compete professionally; her entire life seemed geared towards sports. Which worried him about this match -- he already knew he was going to lose, but he didn't want to lose badly. And from the way she talked about football, the future seemed to be heading in that direction. Still, he could play the part, and this was really all to just spend time with Mary. For awhile he would push away that part of him that worried over her mental health; he had to get his head in the game, or whatever it was in that silly musical his mum had made him watch. He caught her looking at the car; when she looked at him with that look, he shot her one back, a shake of the head that stated: No! She seemed to let the idea go, however, and went on about her Scottish heritage. He didn't get to hear the rest, however, for he took off, calling the race over his shoulder. She caught up with him in a few strides, which was depressing, but should have been expected; she had mentioned something about doing track in high school in their first encounter. She probably still ran every morning. Good Lord, he couldn't imagine that level of physical activity. Perhaps it conflicted with his dream of having toned abs, but...he would much rather watch a movie and eat ice cream. She kept pace with him -- which was a fast jog -- though she was sure to keep a bit ahead. His bag was bouncing against his side, but he ignored the annoyance; he wasn't going to be beat out by the girl already. Though, he didn't want to sprint -- he had to conserve his energy. It was a half-mile to the park, and once the park gates were in sight he sped up, sprinting the last few paces to (hopefully) beat her to the gate. He won only by a few seconds, upon which he turned around and announced cheerily, "You didn't think I would let you win? And after I win again, I will take cherries on my icecream." He grinned, turning back and walking into the empty soccer field of the park. There weren't many other people there, just a small family feeding the ducks on the other side of the pond. On the other side of the park was the basketball courts. He set his bag on the long bench at the side of the field. "Since we're already here, we might as well start with football. Would you like to do the honors?" He pulled the football out of his bag and tossed it to her.

[Mary Aoife Stuart]

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[atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i45.tinypic.com/ebexie.jpg);background-repeat:no-repeat;width: 600px;height:523px;] "Dialogue." Thoughts. She was surprised that Carlin kept up with her. But he was in pretty good shape - or at least he looked to be in good shape. Meaning he wasn't five hundred pounds or something. The blonde kept the pace even, not wanting to waste energy by speeding up and slowing down. She focused on keeping herself an edge ahead of Carlin. She didn't want to beat him by a lot. That'd be... Of course, that's when Carlin decides to shoot off. She huffed exasperatedly and sprinted after him. But the huff combined with the mild surprise that Carlin could sprint (which she could, but not like him) made it certain that Carlin edged her out. She rolled her eyes before her bag moved in the corner of her eye. She immediately flashed a hand out to stop it from swinging. She'd always loved her reactions - even when it meant she accidentally punched someone in the face when they scared her. Though, those people were usually idiots. Who scared someone who may or may not be mentally stable? She flashed a grin at the man, her eyes twinkling with amusement. As if he would win again. He had no chance. He was just lucky that the park was only half a mile. She'd always been better at the mile. Not good enough for college track, but good. "That's so not fair. Not that you'll win again, anyway. But, seriously? The only reason you get ice cream is so that I can get some of yours." Mary poked Carlin playfully as she set her bag down, bouncing on her toes excitedly. Soccer first? That was fine. More then fine. Awesome. She had to get a lead on him. The run didn't count, but it did. Like how that one girl that one time was her friend, but she wasn't. To one person, it didn't matter. To another it did. Carlin probably didn't care either way. Or at least more than any normal person cared. She, on the other hand, was ready to attack him in soccer. Divide and conquer and all that crazy nonsensical awesomeness. She loved all that war strategy stuff. If she wasn't so into science, she would've majored in history. But yeah, she'd definitely destroy Carlin. Because he didn't get to beat her in running and in soccer. Basketball didn't matter. Maybe she'd be able to get all the rebounds because she was taller than him. And not just slightly taller than him. Like a good five inches. She was ready to kick Carlin back to tomorrow. As she waited for him to get ready, she glanced around. There was a duck pond with a family around it. A slight pang hit her before Mary turned back to Carlin. She wasn't homesick exactly. Los Angeles was a stuffy place where you knew hardly anyone. But her family? She did miss them. Flashing a quick smile to cover up the moment of whatever that sad emotion was, Mary quickly snatched the ball out of the air. A playful smirk crossed her face. "Of course. You better not go easy on me. It isn't like you have a chance anyway." Mary's grinned grew wider as she punted (did the goalie kick) the ball straight up into the air. "On three bounces," she added as she watched it bounce. One. She leaned forward, getting ready to charge. It'd been awhile since she'd played someone simply for the fun of it - one "v" one. It was always her soccer team and that wasn't the most fun. Two.

[/font] Her grin was replaced with a determined expression. Then, as the ball landed the third time, she surged forward, hoping to do a light touch to the left to go around Carlin.
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