Semi-awkward Meeting

Who: Dean and Isabelle
When: Morning
Where: Costume shop/party store

Isabelle had spent the morning looking for a costume on a budget. She was pondering getting a job, if she couldn't manage to shake a little more cash out of the foster parents - manual labor seemed so terribly uninteresting, but there was always the chance she'd meet more interesting townsfolk. At any rate, she'd hit up thrift stores looking for ideas. She thought Medea was still going for her zombie look, but she needed something that would help make her unrecognizable. She was going to win those bets with Gabe and Kyle, so help her.

The thrift store had yielded up some choice prizes to her searching; she'd come away with a brightly colored peasant skirt and another patterned skirt to tatter and wear over it, a peasant blouse, two scarves and a plethora of shiny, jingly, bright jewelry, all coming in pretty well under budget. Already the owner of a pair of lace-up black boots, the only thing that was left was a mask. Possibly a wig to make her even more unrecognizable - they'd be looking for a blonde, after all. Her luck at the thrift store ended when it came to masks that weren't disgusting, so she headed down to the party store, hoping to find something inexpensive but good.

Dean had been in town for a while - he'd dropped Thia off at Maddie's first thing that morning and he wasn't going back to collect her again until that evening, being that apparently Maddie was helping her make her costume. Which made Dean wonder if he was just coping out hiring one. But, then again, with the look he was going for, hiring was the only option. And that brought up the other thing - the 'look', which he was no wondering if he'd taken too far. his ear felt cold, his head a little too light, everything just felt weird as he brushed once more at the back of his neck, wiping away miniscule bits of imaginery hair that seemed trapped under his collar since he'd come out of the barber's. He glanced into the window of the store he was passing and looked at himself again. he looked shoren. He looked weird - to his eyes anyway. His longish hair that he'd had for ever now had all gone - now it was less than an inch all over. he reached up and brushed a hand through it once more. Yeah, weird. God, what had he done? Really now.

Isabelle was gazing into the window of the costume shop, scanning for anything interesting before she headed inside. It was a little crowded for her tastes; she hated being jostled. But she wasn't there for a long haul, just a mask and maybe a wig and she was done. She saw the boy, about her own age, just a split second before she walked into him. Accidentally, of course. "Oh, jeez," she said as she dropped her bag, bending to retrieve it. "I'm sorry, I was totally out of it." She sounded sincere, apologetic, and shot him a contrite smile as she backed up a bit. "I didn't do any damage, did I?"

Dean staggered a little before he regained his balance, realising what had happened as he crouched down. "You okay?" he asked, making an effort to help her with her stuff. "I'm - I'm so, so sorry - I wasn't - looking," he said, honestly and completely apologetic, going striaght for it being entirely his fault.

"I'm fine, please," Isabelle said, taking his help with a grateful smile. "And it was totally my fault, I was staring into the window like a complete space case, I was so not looking where I was going. Are you okay? I didn't mean to totally plow into you."

"I'm fine - I was just... looking," he said, realising that 'starting like a moron at my own reflection' was probably the wrong thing to say. So yay for not saying the wrong thing!

"I'm Isabelle, by the way," she introduced. "Are you going to the masquerade thing tonight, too?" It seemed like most people were planning on at least making an appearance. At least, the people she'd spoken to were going.

"Dean," he told her, straightening up. "And yeah - I'm - yeah, I'm going," he added, realising he'd been looking in the window of the costume shop. Needlessly, since he'd got his costume from elsewhere and picked masks up yesterday.

"Nice to meet you," she said. "May I ask what you're going as? Or have you decided yet?" Her nose wrinkled slightly. "It looks pretty crowded in there; I guess a lot of people have left their shopping to the last minute."

Dean ducked his head slightly, self-consciously. "Erm, I'm... Kinda.. I was planning on going as James Bond," he told her, his English accent clear despite the stumbling over the wording. It was stupid, he decided - like he'd decided every time he thought about it. Like he'd decided when he'd booked the tux, like he'd decided when he'd walked in to get his fucking hair cut because his old style hadn't gone with the image. It was taking it far too far, just for an in joke between him and Thia. And, okay, it had the added bonus that he'd be able to go out tonight armed. Which always made him feel better. Which he wasn't right now because he'd've had to take his leather jacket off in the barbers and wouldn't have a handy 'lookit, pretending to be a spy' excuse for having a weapon concealed in a shoulder holster underneath. Yeah, it was stupid, he decided, looking back at her. "You?" he asked.

"Oh, that'll be cool," Isabelle said, grinning. "Any particular incarnation? Sean Connery Bond, Roger Moore Bond, maybe Pierce Brosnan Bond? Wait, are you practicing the accent now, or are you the real deal and asking that question just made me look really stupid and provincial?" She'd noticed it from the start so she was leaning towards the latter, but one never knew. Maybe he was into theatre and needed time to get into character. She held up her thrift store bag. "I'm just going as a gypsy fortune teller-type thing, nothing really special. All I need is a mask and I'm set."

One side of Dean's mouth turned up into a crooked half-smile, which was the most hat he ever really managed - the Brit wasn't really the smiley sort, so the barest hint was a milestone with him. "I'm the real deal. S'why I sound more Oasis than Dick Van Dyke," he told her, given a little confidence by the fact that she didn't immediately laugh at the idea. "And gypsy's good - you could go, like, all middle eastern and run with a veil rather than a traditional mask," he suggested, before telling himself to shut up and just talk, rather than putting forward unwanted and probably stupid suggestions.

"Oh, so I guess that means no sidewalk chalk art, either," Isabelle said. "What a disappointment." She grinned then to show she was joking, looking intrigued at his suggestion. "The veil idea's interesting," she mused. "The costume kind of looks more eastern european-renaissance-y than middle eastern, but maybe it could work." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "The invitation says masks are required, though - do you think they'd count a veil?" She didn't really have it in her budget to find both, not if she wanted a wig, too.

Dean shrugged. "Flyer said that if you came without a mask they'd give you one on the door," he pointed out, discarding a good half dozen other replies as just plain stupid. "So, really - you got anything to lose?"

"No, I guess not," Isabelle said, shrugging. "Well then, maybe I'll look for a veil instead of a mask." She grinned. "Anything I can do to make myself as unrecognizable as possible, I'm interested in doing. I've got a bet to win. So, what brings you to Michigan, if you don't mind me asking?" she questioned curiously.

"A bet?" Dean asked, before realising she'd asked him a question - he should answer that, really. Focus, it helped - except, it hadn't helped the other day, had it? With Drea. That had been an unmitigated disaster, hadn't it? Fuck. "Erm - I'm... Living with my cousin. Didn't do too well at home. My parents thought a change of scenery'd be good," he told her, mising out the reasons why.

"Yeah, with these guys I met at a party last night," Isabelle said, looking a little sheepish. "We each bet that we'd be the first to recognize the others. I'm hoping the fact that I'm brand new to town will mean they'll lose." She smiled, one that held a touch of understanding. "Changes of scenery are good," she said, nodding. "I hope it's working out for you." She sounded sincere, not a hint of condescension.

Dean shrugged, taking refuge in nonchalance. "Yeah, s'okay," he allowed, not confident enough to pass any other judgement. "You? I... Don't think I've seen you around," he added, willing to learn that she'd been in town her entire life and Dean just hadn't noticed her, though she really didn't seem the unnoticeable type.

"No, I'm brand new," Isabelle said. "My sister and I got here yesterday from Iron Mountain - it's about an hour away. So I'm a Michigan native, just not from around here." She gave him a small smile, one that looked to be concealing a hint of vulnerability. "We needed a change of scenery, too."

"Yeah, I know Iron Mountain - I was... Went there last week, went to some little pizza place," he told her with a single shoulder shrug as he caught the look behind the smile. He wondered at that, but didn't feel like he could pry - it'd be rude, or something.

"That's cool," Isabelle said. "Do you know anyone there or were you just visiting?" She didn't know why anyone would want to visit the town; if you'd seen one small northern Michigan town, you'd seen them all. And honestly, she didn't think anyone would really want to see even one of them. But anything to keep this kid talking a little longer; she didn't know if it was a Brit thing or what, but he was a tough nut to crack.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, not really - or, y'know, at all. I... My friend and I kinda... fancied a drive, so, yeah - ended up there. Don't really know much of anyone round here - only got here this summer," he volunteered, feeling like he was doing better today than he had done with Drea, but still feeling entirely self-conscious.

"Well, it is a nice drive," Isabelle agreed. "This is the farthest I've ever been from home; we're still exploring and checking places out. I'm just glad we got here before the snows to give us time to familiarize ourselves." Sometimes familiar landmarks could get obscured under the mountains of white that fell during winter. "Where in the UK are you from?" she asked.

"Manchester, the north," he told her, clarifying the city with a location since sometimes people looked at him blankly when the answer wasn't 'London'. "This is the furthest I've been from home too," he added with a crooked kind of smile, hoping that didn't sound too stupid and inane. Possibly it did. Possibly right now he was coming across as an idiot. He could never tell.

"So you must be used to some cold and snow," Isabelle said with a smile. "I'd love to visit one day - well, everywhere, really, I just want to travel. I think you win the distance contest, though," she joked. "I've only moved an hour away, you've come several thousand miles."

"Cold yeah, snow? Not so much - or some, but you'd probably laugh," he shrugged. "Keep getting told what to expect round here and warned of, like twenty foot snow drift or something, so you'd win that one..." Since they were talking about winning. "So, erm - you starting school here?" he asked her, actually daring a question, since he was managing to string whole sentences together today.

"Yeah, my sister and I are starting on Monday," Isabelle told him, grinning at the mention of snow. "I guess if people keep telling you about it, I'll keep my mouth shut. What grade are you in? She and I are juniors."

"Sophomore," Dean told her. "So year behind," he added, before rolling his eyes at himself. She knew that. "Sorry - I... Still getting used to the whole naming of years thing," he explained. "How old's you sister?" he asked, hoping to deflect from his slip.

"It's okay," Isabelle said, smiling easily. "I have no idea how you count years in Manchester, so you're a step ahead of me anyway. My sister's seventeen, and I'll be seventeen next month. She missed the deadline for starting school because her birthday's in January, that's why we're in the same grade."

"That must be kind of weird," Dean said, trying to imagine being in the same school year as his brother, Scott - god, that'd be horrible, but then again, Scott was an immature little shit, so...

"No, it's nice, actually," Isabelle told him. "Homework help, automatically knowing someone in class, that kind of stuff. We like hanging out with each other." Made scheming so much easier for them, too.

"You - sound like you get on with your sister," Dean observed. Not that he and his brother didn't get on, but... Well, Scott was a brat and a right royal pain in the arse at times. Sometimes he was okay and Dean wouldn't not have a brother, but yeah, he was a pain.

"We do," Isabelle said, nodding. "We kind of have to - we're all each other has. So you've got to make it work, you know?" She let that same vulnerable look cross her face, chasing it away with another smile. "She's like, my best friend."

He wondered about that - about her sister being all she had, but didn't want to pry with someone he hardly knew. "Well, that's good - I mean... must be nice and everything," he offered instead, wishing he was better at small talk - he'd always been terrible at that, never knowing what to say.

Isabelle was thinking the same thing - he was just terrible at making conversation. Either that, or he was doing it on purpose and just didn't want to give up any real information. She doubted it was the latter; he didn't seem that calculating. "It is," she said with a smile, checking her watch almost absently. She jumped when she saw the time. "Holy cow, I didn't realize it was getting on towards afternoon already," she said. "I'm sorry, but I've got some chores at home I'm supposed to do before tonight, I need to get a move on if I'm going to finish them in time. But I'll see you at the thing, right?" She grinned. "Save me a dance or something."

"Yeah, I'll be there - I'll have to see if I recognise you," he added with a hint of a smile and a twinkle behind his eyes, actually getting up enough confidence to make a joke, even a poor one. He really wished he was better at this, but he wasn't good at getting to know new people, and he was downright terrible with girls. Except Thia, but... The circumstances there had been different. And she'd had a boyfriend, so he hadn't even had to wonder about that side of things, or worry about it. And she seemed to ignore the fact he was an idiot, which made him get over being an idiot and just get on with being himself. He really was his own worst enemy at times.

"Well, if you don't, I'll just have to make sure to recognize you," Isabelle teased. "I've got to run, but I'll see you tonight, Mr. Bond." She grinned at him and, with a wink, turned to head into the costume shop.