Spybot detected!

Who: Medea and Porter
Where: Crescent Street and beyond
When: late afternoon

Regardless of age or gender or any single mitigating factor, moving sucked. Porter had been sick of it before he'd even lugged his first box up to his new bedroom, but then he hadn't wanted to move in the first place. It wasn't that he disliked his new house; a surprisingly nice two-story with an almost-view of the lake beyond the apartment buildings nearby. And he understood why the move was necessary, but how many times could one guy be forced to start things late? School back home had already been rough to get used to, and highschool wasn't going to be any easier the second time around. So, while none of that had helped his mood, he wasn't about to let it ruin it either.

He hadn't griped to his mom or stepdad, instead just hauling the boxes marked as his to his room, then hiding away long enough to set up both his computer and the terrarium for his snake, Wade. One short news post to his site and a change of clothes later, Porter was ready to explore. He'd begged out of helping to move more furniture, tugging on a warm black sweatshirt with the Punisher skull emblazoned on it, grabbing his mp3 player, and heading out. Even with a gloom in the air, it didn't seem awful here; the air was crisp in his lungs, it smelled clean, and Porter didn't think he'd miss a lot of the fouler aspects of city life. Earphones in as he walked, Porter even felt a small smile on his lips as he moved towards the shore.

Medea was also out for a walk, still vaguely mapping the town out in her own mind, trying to figure out the best areas for things, where was interesting, where was not. Though really, 'interesting' was a relative term. It wasn't necessarily something that was going to apply to a lot around town. But Medea thought people were far more interesting than places anyhow, and while she hadn't seen any yet, that didn't mean she wouldn't. And, as she started to look for where there might be a path through to the beach, she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. So she stopped, and waited, watching him to see if he was headed in her direction or not. She was also sizing him up. He looked around her age...maybe younger. She hadn't seen him at school yet, but that wasn't unusual, she hadn't been there long enough to really know everyone. Debating on how she might get his attention, she stood back a touch, assessing.

He was like-minded once he caught sight of the scrub brush lining the edge of the beach, and as Porter started onto the bike path he was already looking for some kind of path to the sand itself. The fact that there was someone else nearby wasn't lost on him, though. He was walking with his gaze half-aimed down, and with a shrug of his shoulders Porter glanced up Medea's way. First contact, he thought to himself, though in Porter's mind that contact would probably stop just at seeing her. Sure, there were worse first encounters than a pretty girl who looked close to his age, but no matter who it could've been he probably wouldn't say a word. Still, he paused his music as he moved closer towards Medea, glancing up and giving a slight, shy nod of acknowledgment with a smile tacked on.

She looked over, and hey, that was easy. When he looked up and nodded, she smiled at him. "Hi." she said, playing it slightly shy herself, thinking that would be less intimidating for him, and might get her farther than being open and overwhelming. She even gave him a slight wave, though her body language suggested she was unsure of the move. She stepped a slight bit onto the path from the tree she'd been near, as if she might want to say more than hello, should he be inclined.

Porter's smile spread easily in response to that one word, his head dipping down a bit as he took a few steps past Medea's side path. He only made it those few steps before his confidence built up to that minimal level necessary and he turned around, yanking his earbuds free. "Hey," he said in kind, hands tucking into his pockets with the cord for his earbuds. Generally speaking, a cute girl saying hi to him would've been the setup for her asking if he was lost, if he needed to find the sixth grade classes, something like that. But her poise, the quick withdrawal of her waving hand, they dulled his suspicions. Of course, beyond that one word, Porter wasn't sure what to say. "...Kinda cold for a day on the beach, isn't it?" he asked lamely.

Medea laughed a slight bit, and twisted a lock of her hair around one finger, another cue that she might be a little shy or nervous. "Well...I suppose it might be, but there won't be that many days left to go there since it'll be snowing soon. So, I was thinking that I'd go anyhow. I'm sure it can be appreciated even if I'm not going swimming, right?" she asked. "Is that were you were headed?" she asked.

"I think so?" Porter answered, his uncertainty enough to make him laugh a little, shoulders bunching in a shrug. "I'm, ah, not really sure where I'm headed." The confession was easier than it would be in a school hallway, that was for sure. And if he had his way, this weekend before he started school could just last forever. "I'm new here. Like... four hours in town new," he explained, one hand leaving its pocket long enough to point back the way he'd come, to the moving van still parked outside his house. "Kinda wanted to see the lake, it's a little different than back home." He was okay with this, with the little mannerisms she had, and the strands of hair twisting around her finger telling him that he wasn't the only one awkward in this moment.

That had her breaking into a bright smile. "Really?" she asked. "me too--well, not that new, but I haven't been in town long." she said, sounding the slightest bit excited about that. Like she was pleased she wasn't alone. "My sister and I just moved here, we've only been around like a week." she explained. "We're from Iron Mountain, so technically I'm still from around the area, just not here-here. What about you?" she asked, then she rolled her eyes at herself a little. "Sorry, I'm Medea, what's your name?" she asked, sort of hesitantly holding out her hand to shake, and looking like she was not at all sure that was cool of her.

Really, she just wanted to get a bead on his emotional state.

Glancing down at her hand for just a moment, Porter took it in his own a second later and shook it lightly, mindful of how delicate it felt in his grip. And he was no titan, by any means. "Porter," he told her, his smile staying put as he released. Yeah, it definitely wasn't so bad here. "And I'm not really sure where Iron Mountain is? I'm from out east, Baltimore," he told her, tucking his hand back in his pocket. The moment had him optimistic, though unsure he'd be able to really hold up his end of the conversation. Porter wasn't a huge fan of talking about himself, so hopefully he could think of something else and fast. "So, uh... what's it like around here?" he asked, wanting to smack himself on the forehead the moment the question left his lips. Like she'd know, genius. She's new too.

"Oh, really? Wow, never been there. Though...to be honest with you, I haven't been anywhere, so that's really not a big surprise." she admitted, then nodded, for him to walk with her as she started them up the path farther. She was pretty sure there was a park or something up there, where they could walk down to the beach. "Around here....it's snowy?" she suggested. "For a long time. It's quiet, if you're into winter sports, this is your heaven. If you're into hunting, it might be too. If not, then you might be in for a lot of boredom soon." she offered, giving him a little smile as she purposely made a little bit of a show of watching him out of the corner of her eye as they walked.

Hunting... He thought he might be into that, though not the sort that she meant. Wildlife was Porter's best chance to keep himself stable up here, though he doubted he'd really be able to chase much of it down. But he had to at least try. "Baltimore's pretty cool," he told Medea, following her along the path. So what if he'd been headed the other way, it wasn't like he'd really had a goal when he started walking. "Not as many big city problems as a real big city, you know? But, like, big enough that there's a lot to do." He mused on everything else she'd mentioned, turning it over in his head. "Yeah, I read online that it's really snowy here? I'll probably just stay in a lot," he was quick to add, glancing away from Medea when he caught the hint of a smile she aimed his way.

"Well that's no fun." Medea said. "But I probably will too, I have to confess. I don't do that well in the cold, even if I am from here." she said, making a little face. That bit was even true. Her body was fragile at the best of times, if she was out in the cold too long, she froze really fast. It wasn't pretty. "But yeah. Tons of snow. Banks taller than both of us, on a bad year. I mean, both of us as in us standing here, not...both of us standing on each other's shoulders." she said, feighning a flub of words. "What was there to do in Baltimore?"

Porter had to laugh at the mental image of the thin young woman trying to balance up on his shoulders, but the laughter died out and he even shivered a little with the prospect of all that snow. "No good," he told her, "We got snow back home? But not like that." He didn't say it, but he had to agree with Medea. She looked like the sort of girl best suited to warm environments, maybe somewhere with a long beach season. "There was all kinds of stuff, really. Movies, coffee houses, ballgames, comic shops, a kickass arcade, concerts. I didn't do a lot of that stuff, though," he admitted with a grin her way. "Just the comic shops and the arcade. Okay, and the coffee shop... my secret weakness is banana bread," Porter added, daring to wink lightly at Medea.

She looked delighted, and giggled girlishly for effect at the wink. "I'll have to keep that in mind, should I need to tempt you into something. Note to self, learn to bake banana bread." she said, a little bit of a spring to her step then as they walked, and she turned them into the parking lot of the park she was glad she hadn't just made up in her head. It existed. "So, you're a comic book guy, huh?" she asked. "I've read a few graphic novels, though not that many." she said. "Tell me about comics." she invited.

"Okay, you're a spybot," Porter was quick to insist, glancing her way with a joking smile as they walked. "No girl in the history of time who wasn't already into comics has said that." But she called them GRAPHIC NOVELS, he thought with a little thrill, liking this girl already. Porter glanced away from her and to the little playground setup, grinning to himself and heading right across the grass, somewhat towards the swingset. "What, uh, what do you want to know? Like, what's good? Or like how they're a substitute for the myths of old cultures, but with spandex and soap opera storylines?" he asked, chuckling quietly.

She gasped and laughed. "I'm a what?" she asked. "No! And maybe I'm just a different kind of girl!" she insisted, good naturedly, or what sounded like it. She followed him, sitting on a swing herself as they got to them. "Tell me what's interesting. Really, whatever you want to start with, go for, but all that sounds interesting. Though I think I get the new day myths. What I read was this really long series...Sandman? That had a lot of that in there...including mythic figures, like from Norse mythology." she said. "Have you ever read those?"

Dropping onto a swing, Porter just let his feet dig into the sand lightly. "Oh yeah, I have the whole series," he told her, nodding a little bit. "Gaiman's a great writer, he did this run on Miracleman in the 80s? Totally redefined the whole superhero concept." This was comfortable ground, the sort of thing he could talk about for hours, except that no one ever wanted him to. "And as much as I like the heroes, you really have to read a lot to find the good stuff. You know, Spiderman's been running for over forty years now. He's been a clone and married and had weird clone kids and alien costumes and first he's a guy, then a man-spider, then a guy again, then a man-spider again. Eventually they just run out of ideas for the classics. Someone wrote a thing where he ate a dude's head." Which, when Porter played all of that back in his head? No matter whether Medea asked him to or not, he wouldn't go off like that again around her.

She listened, mostly just listening to how he spoke about things. Sure she was listening to content, but she was studying him in general while he talked. She was trying to pick out details, read him better. She moved on the swing, so they were sort of facing each other, and she started a slow back and forth arc, nothing too high. "Seriously? He ate a guy's head? How does that work in with the hero concept?" she asked, looking shocked. "Was he a bad guy then or something? They do that, right? Sort of...flip things around a lot, play around with concepts of right and wrong, then flip it around some more, just to keep people guessing?" she asked, sounding like she wasn't sure if she was right or not, but that was the impression she had gathered.

The rhythm of the swing was irresistible, and before long Porter found himself in a light motion that ran counter to Medea's. She was there, she wasn't, she was, she wasn't. "He wasn't a bad guy? It was more like... a survival sort of thing. Like instinct taking over and... making him want brains, I guess." But he was impressed, she at least seemed to know the basics of how people worked within the medium. "Yeah, you've got it right. It's a pretty basic idea, really. Like, why do people trust the guy in the mask? Is it right? Is he a hero or just trouble waiting to go bad?" He looked her way as he swung, dipping his feet to drag trails in the sand. "You sure you've only read a few? It sounds like you have a subscription or two."

She smiled at that. "Yeah, I'm sure. I just...I'm a geek. I read constantly, all sorts of things. Anything I can get my hands on, really, and I've seen enough comic book movies to get the gist too. It's just an interesting sort of concept, it gets used all over." She paused thoughtfully. "I also, suppose, my interest in psychology plays in. Like, watching Batman and everything, I often wonder about the ideals behind a hero that's more or less an emotionally stunted madman who dresses up as a giant bat to fight crime. It's fascinating, really."

Laughing at that, Porter nodded his agreement as he pushed for a bit more momentum in his swing, just to catch up to her. "Yeah, they even had him 'fess up in an issue once. 'I'm a rich kid with issues. Lots of issues.'," he quoted, cheeks dimpling as he grinned and did his best Batman voice for her. "There's a lot of skewed motivations, projection, wish fulfillment. I get why so many people can't take it seriously. At least the movies are turning out decent, though." She'd humored him for longer than most people would, and Porter was finally realizing that he should do the same. "What about you? You're into psychology, you said? What else?" he asked, feeling lame for being so vague when she'd specifically asked about what appealed to him.

"I liked the movies. They're interesting too." Medea agreed, kicking her feet a little as she swung. Then she smiled, a shy looking one, and she cast her gaze down for a moment before looking back over at him. "Theater." she said. "I'm a drama-geek too. I'm just a geek all over, if you haven't caught onto that yet. But...yeah, theater. I still have to figure out where I can get in here, I know there's a drama club and stuff, and I'd like to get into the plays, if I can. I'm disappointed that I didn't get into town soon enough to get into Rocky Horror that gets put on in Negaunee around halloween." she said, making a sadface.

"They do Rocky Horror up here?" Porter asked, surprised by that. "I kinda imagined this place was going to be more like... Pleasantville? But frozen. Is it true they pretty much do a local holiday when deer season starts?" He chuckled, shaking his head at the conflicting aspects of the area. It'd definitely take some adjusting. "Theater?" he echoed, seeming intrigued by that. She looked the part from the way she was dressed, and she was definitely pretty enough to be an actress. "Theater's pretty cool. If I didn't freeze up with more than three people looking at me, I might've done some drama. I'm sure you'll get a lead in something," he complimented without the faintest idea of why, she just seemed like she would. "And take it from the guy with a Flash shirt on under a Punisher hoodie. There's nothing wrong with being a geek."

"Yeah, they do. and unfortunately I can't be in it this year. Next year, I'm hoping. Of course, I can still go, get all dressed up..." she said, smiling at him. "When it's being done, do you want to go with me?" she asked. "As for the hunting thing, I'm afraid so. Holidays for it and everything. And aw, that's sweet of you to say. I hope so, but I'm not sure. People kind of get picky about things, and I'm a new girl, I might get overlooked for whoever's been here forever and everyone knows." she said, aware that was a possibility. She smiled at him sweetly at the last bit. "Then I shall feel much better about my geekdom. And hey, I'm not alone then, so that's got to count for something. We can be geeks together."

"Yeah?" Porter asked, surprise plain in his tone. He was shocked; ten minutes out of the house and apparently he had a friend. A cute, female friend. "That'd be cool, geeks do better in numbers. What's the plural for geeks? A gaggle?" he wondered, smiling thoughtfully and leaning back on the swing with both hands wrapped around the chains. "Whatever it is, no huge deal. And, uh, you should still try out if there's a play or a show or whatever. I'll come support you if you do." He wasn't going to have much else to do aside from the comic, after all. Even if he had a chance at making it onto the track team, the season was probably over until after winter. "Is your sister into the drama club stuff too?"

She laughed. "That's geese." she said. "I say we call ourselves a Quark of Geeks. Sounds cooler." she said with a decided tone. "And I will, promise. I suppose I'm just kind of a little insecure sometimes. And I know drama people. I've been in there for years in Iron Mountain, people get all set in their ways, it's just the way it gets. I suppose it's all the egos rubbing up against one another. Everyone wants to shine in some fashion, and they all want to have center stage." Then she gave him a sweet sort of smile. Gentle, in some respects. "You'd come support me? God, you really are just the sweetest thing, aren't you?" she asked rhetorically, looking all kinds of enamored with that, and possibly him. She threw a little bit of shy into it, like she was still a little unsure, but grateful, and flattered. "And Isabelle? No, she's not really the drama club type. She's more the cheerleader type." she admitted.

He couldn't help blushing at the flattery, sitting forward to smile at his feet as he dragged to a stop and took a long moment to compose himself. Porter eventually looked back Medea's way, coughing awkwardly and praying the flush had left his pale cheeks. "Yeah, I knew a few of the theater kids back in Baltimore," he offered, eager to move away from how sweet he apparently was, "They were pretty, um, proud of themselves, I guess. And it was all cutthroat competition too, as far as I heard." His nose wrinkled as she talked about Isabelle, brow lining as Porter looked at her skeptically. "A cheerleader? Seriously? So you two are just total opposites?"

She'd made him blush, and that was a good thing. He was pretty easy, all things considered, but that wasn't a bad thing either. If she could get him on board with her, have him on her side, then she was sure she'd have a use for him at some point. "That's basically what I'm talking about, yeah. Everyone wants to be the big thing." Medea said with an eyeroll. "I just like being in plays, I like them. But I have no illusions, I'm not going to be some big hollywood actress, or on tv, or anything. I want to be a therapist. Acting is just...something I enjoy. I like being able to make people feel things, through the use of a story, something brought to life." she explained, then appeared embarrassed. "And I'll shut up about that now." she added. "Seriously, she's a cheerleader. We're sort of opposites. We get along well enough, though. We don't necessarily travel in the same crowds, but...we have each other. That's kinda all we have so..." she shrugged one shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Porter had to ask, unable to miss the hesitancy Medea had with that last comment. There was nothing about her that spoke of hard times, but Porter knew just from his own life how little appearances could really tell you about someone else. "I mean, I get what you're saying about the plays? Conveying feeling through a story, that's pretty cool stuff," he explained, since that was all he ever hoped for with his site. "And it's cool that you get along with her even if you're different. But, um... if I'm prying I'll stop. But what do you mean that that's all you have?"

She gave a sad sort of smile. "Well..." she started, then stopped again, glancing around as if she was sharing this pretty much just with him, and it wasn't for anyone else to know. "We're both in foster care." she said. "It was actually strange. We didn't grow up together or anything, didn't even know we were related, that was found out later. But...my parents died, hers did...and we were both put into the system. Once we found each other, though, we've made sure that we stay together. But..don't say anything, okay? It's kind of...I don't want anyone to feel bad for us or anything, that's not what we're about. It's okay, we're okay." she said, as if she was worried about his opinion as well on the matter.

"Oh... wow," he murmured, clearly stunned by her explanation. "No, I won't say anything about it, don't worry. I just... that's insane. You found each other inside the foster system? What're the odds?" He was taking the trust very seriously, just nodding slightly as he turned it all around in his head. "You seem like you came out pretty good anyway. So maybe it's less about what happened making you who you are? Maybe you just are who you are, and the past is the past." Of course, he was thinking of his own father with those words, of the face he could still recall, smiling in photographs next to the sullen and sickly boy that Porter had been.

She gave him a very light sort of smile then. Barely there, but present. "Yeah, maybe that's it. I like to think so. I'm...I'm grateful for what I've got. I'm grateful for her. I don't like to look back much myself, life isn't about what's gone before, it's about what's coming next. Or that's what I think, anyways." she told him, voice a tiny bit quieter than it had been a moment before. "Thanks for keeping it to yourself." she added. "I appreciate it."

Porter was quick to shake his head, not wanting her to think it was anything major. "No problem, I don't think I'd want everyone knowing either. So, uh... why'd you tell me?" he had to ask, swirling his feet in the sand. "We're both new, y'know? But that's not exactly a huge trust former. I mean, it's cool whatever the reason is, I was just wondering." Porter knew he was a somewhat-cute guy, but it generally took longer to get a girl to confide in him like this. Maybe it was just something else to look forward to about here.

She smiled. "Maybe I just feel like I can. And if I'm wrong, then I'll find out eventually, but it doesn't cost me anything to trust you before I'm positive I can, right?" she asked. "Maybe I've just got more faith in people. You seem really nice. You seem like someone I could trust. I'd rather try and fail than hold myself back too much and never connect with anyone." she said, seeming to muse it out as she told him like she'd never had to think about it before. Like the question caught her a slight bit off guard.

"Thanks," he said, smiling down at his feet, "I won't let you down then, I hope." He knew he could keep a secret, at least. And her reasoning sounded genuine, definitely weighted by the thoughtful compliments. He seemed nice. Not like a freak she'd be scared of. "So, this sounds cheesy even in my head. Can I get your number? In case school sucks, which it probably will, and you want to hang out?" he asked, digging his cellphone from his hoodie and snapping it open. It was nice enough to suggest that his parents were well-off, but the fact was that Porter had paid for it and the service on his own.

"Sure, though...I don't have a cell or anything, so fair warning, you'll have to deal with my foster parents and everything." she said, rattling off her number. "But you can call me anytime, or come by, or something. I don't live that far from here, and well. I know where you live, saw the van, if you didn't mind if I dropped by. I could introduce you to a few people that I've met so far, if you wanted me to." she added. "Like there's Nate, who I went to the masquerade they had here last weekend? It was great. I was a zombie bride." she told him, looking like she kinda thought he might appreciate that, but wasn't positive.

Porter looked surprised by that, smiling as he thumbed in her number an saved it. "A masquerade? And Rocky Horror? Maybe it's better than I was expecting here," he said, aiming the camera at Medea. "Hold still or... look theatrical, actually. I want a picture to assign to your number." Porter waited, thumb on the button. "Yeah, meeting some people might be nice. That's the rough part of school, being the stranger in a strange land. Except for zombie queens, they probably adapt fast. Y'know... by making more zombies." He was trying to work a smile from her, a quick, genuine reaction that'd be good for a photo. A photo I can sketch from later...

Medea laughed, looking shy and a touch nervous, but pleased. "Theatrical? ...okay." she said, and she paused, moving to stand up on the swing, where she held her hands on the chain up near her face. Then she turned her eyes down on him, and gave him the barest hint of a smile, looking down at him where the chain should be covering her face slightly, by her cheek. "How's this?" she asked.

"Making more zombies...I can do that. Does that mean if I want you for my hoarde, you'll let me bite you?" she asked, giving him a cheeky little grin. There was still just that light touch of shy behind it, like she wanted to be playful but was still unsure about how it would be recieved. She just wasn't letting it stop her. Mostly she just wanted to gauge as many little reactions from him as possible, and he'd been being so nicely acommodating so far.

Hot. Several things in that moment were, as it happened. The look, the comment about biting, even the shy curve of her lips as she spoke it. Porter stared intently at the screen of his phone, holding his breath as he snapped off a quick picture of her. "I don't know about being a zombie," he said at last, folding the phone shut. "I ran track back home? Being stuck at a mindless shamble might hurt my chances of making it on the team here." Not that the biting part would be bad. "Keep me on the list, though. It could be fun, if 'The Walking Dead' is anything to go by."

"Okay, I will." she said, leaning back to try and get the swing going a little bit, though it wasn't as easy as when she'd been sitting down. "Wanna give me a little push?" she asked. "And you never know. My bite could be special, and you could be a fast zombie, all new Dawn and all. You could be a smart zombie too, like in the Returns. I mean, I have clearly kept my mind and all. But then I might just be a carrier, too." she said, grinning at him, seeming to be releived that he hadn't looked at her funny.

"Like in 28 Weeks Later?" Porter asked, hopping up without directly agreeing to her request and moving behind Medea's swing. "Because that'd guarantee I'd be a runner. And then? I'd own the track season. Pure speed plus a willingness to massacre my opponents," he said, reaching out to give her a slight push. She was just so delicate-looking, Porter didn't want to push her off-balance. That'd be a great impression to make, knocking Medea facedown into the sand.

She hung on, and leaned back again, trying to look over her shoulder at him. "Thank you!" she singsonged just a little bit. "And yes! Like that. And I really think that would be an excellent choice for you. The speed and that whole carnage thing. You'd really bring in the medals. Would you put them all on a jock jacket, and have so many it'd be considered a lethal weapon?" she asked. "I think it could be a plaaa-aaaan."

"Technically, I think I'd kill the presenters when they tried to give me the medals," he pointed out, stepping back as she swung and giving another little push when Medea arced back. "Just gotta hope the school colors have red in them somewhere." How did girls do that? A little bit of melody in their voices went a long way, and the trailing of 'plan' made Porter grin again, hooking his fingers in his belt-loops as he chuckled. "It'd make a great comic, though. 'Varsity Dead' or "Night of the Living Jocks'. Maybe something completely track-focused, like 'Run For Your Unlife'?" he suggested, laughing a bit louder and reaching to push her a bit more confidently, increasing Medea's swing.

"You're in luck!" Medea said. "I can't remember what the school mascot is or whatever, but the colors are red and white. So, really, perfect for any zombies. It's all reminiscent of bandages and blood. I think aesthetically speaking, it really works." she told him, sounding amused. "I like 'Varsity Dead' best." she told him firmly. "It's just got a nice ring to it. Maybe you could write into a company or something and suggest it. I'd read it." she told him. Then she paused. "You know, you might kill the presenters, but then you'd just have all the medals." she said thoughtfully. "So, even better. And no one would mess with you at school, what with the high mortality rate of anyone who does."

His laughter had died, fading to an intrigued grin. Already, Porter had an idea for a cover in mind; a bright splash page of a field, a cheering crowd packed in bleachers, and a pool of blood around the medals. Do I have to share credit with her? he wondered, figuring that'd make it tricky to keep his business a secret. "Yeah, it'd be a good idea to pitch. Zombie comics are huge right now. But you normally have to follow a submission process for the big publishers, and they don't take work from minors." He'd tried before, had been told that The Conduit was good, but they couldn't take it. "So if you're the zombie queen, wouldn't that make everyone else your bodyguards or servants or something? Because that'd be more like no one messing with you."

"Really? That really sucks...maybe just develop it for a few years then knock people's socks off?" she suggested. Then she made a thoughtful sort of face as she leaned back again, keeping herself swinging. "Depends on what kind of queen I am, doesn't it?" she asked. "If I expect full loyalty and service from all those I create, or if I'm a more generous monarch. Or," she added, grinnign back at him. "I could be a lonely girl, who makes zombies, but because I'm a carrier, I'm just that little bit separate, and I'm just searching for the one zombie of mine who will be there for me, and not just worry about their own consumption of brains, and fifteen minutes of fame for being a neat star jock zombie." she said, adding a tragic sort of tone to her voice, and she took one hand off of the chain, lighting it to her forehead for effect, as if she might swoon.

"So you want someone like Dirge from Xombie?" Porter asked, cheeks bunching in a grin as she pretended to swoon. He took one step forward on reflex, just ready in case she actually did fall. "That'd be pretty great, yeah. But you don't strike me as the lonely type... probably the generous monarch. Extra brains for everyone and all that fun stuff." He just might play around with some storyboards for the idea once he had pages for the next few updates ready to go. Inspiration was a dangerous thing, especially when it was coming from a girl who was appealing enough to make him disregard his real work entirely.

"Xombie?" she asked. "Haven't heard of it, but now that you've told me, you realize that I'll demand exposure to it, right?" she asked, turning on the swing so she was facing him instead. "And I suppose we'll see what kind of a carrier zombie queen I'll be once I start making myself zombies." she said. As she looked down at him, she gave just a tiny little taste of a wicked grin, and she leaned forward, arms behind her on the chain to keep her on it. Then she snapped her teeth at him just a bit, before she laughed and stood straight again. "I'll let you know when I start, since you seem willing enough. It'd just be rude to run around and bite people, turning them into undead minions without their permission."

Those little biting motions were inviting, that was for sure. "I could rip Xombie onto a DVD for you, it's all an online cartoon," he offered, glancing away to smile wider at the distance. "It's pretty cool, great voice acting. And zombie clowns!" Porter added, looking back with the wide grin in place because, hey, zombie clowns made everyone smile. "It would be rude, yeah. You'd ruin someone's shirt with all the blood, plus there's the diet change to get used to. I expect to be asked, I might have other plans that night. Probably not, but we do live in a world where Spiderman eats peoples' heads, so anything can happen."

She did, in fact, beam at him and laugh. "Zombie clowns? That's just...great. No two ways about it, that's awesome." she told him, playing up excitement over the prospect. "And you don't have to go to the trouble of burning it, I couldn't pay you back or anything..." she said, looking away for a moment. Then she smiled at him again, at the rest of his statement. "Really, in a world where that happens, all bets are, in fact, off. So, I'll be sure to ask you beforehand, when I start getting that itch to start up my minion zombie army. You'll be my first. It'll be great. You'll hold a special place among the ranks."

Well, wasn't that great? Her first. Even if it was just nonsense, it was a good little compliment. Alpha zombie. "Pay me back? For a blank disc?" Porter repeated incredulously, shaking his head, "Not even necessary, they're like... a quarter a piece, if that. But if you were serious about dropping by, I could just show you on my computer, too. Since you know where I live and all." He didn't think he'd be able to really empathize; he'd had a comfortable life, even if it hadn't always been a good one. But he could sympathize, he liked Medea already. She'd appreciate the cartoon, so he could at least offer her terms to see it where she wouldn't feel indebted.

"I'd like that." she said immediately, as if relieved there was a way to do it that wouldn't mean she owed him. "Just let me know when would be a good time." she told him, the swing slowing down, and she hopped down from it, on the side of the swing he happened to be on. "My schedule is remarkably free." she told him, as if she were making fun of herself just a little.

"Only until you score a lead in some play," Porter protested with a grin, awkward over how close she landed to him but keeping himself composed. "Then you'll be rehearsing and doing makeup and smoking clove cigarettes with the cool kids." He winked at her, stepping back a bit to regard the path. "C'mon," he said in a moment of confidence, nodding back the way they'd come, "Let's backtrack. I wanna see how close you live, since you already found the location of my secret base. And really, any time you want to hang out is good. I won't have much to do until spring or summer, I'm betting."

"God, cigarettes would probably completely kill me." Medea said, laughing. "Seriously, dead inside ten seconds, coughing up blood. It really wouldn't be pretty." she said, automatically falling right into step next to him. She walked the slightest bit closer to him than she had when they'd first walked into the park. Nothing that quite invaded his space, but just a little. Probably enough for him to notice it, even if he might be able to play it off as his imagination, or nothing special. "And I'm going to remind you that you said that, you know. When I'm bugging you all the time, and digging through comics, wanting to read some."

He wasn't going to say that he wouldn't complain in that situation, it was too close to actual flirting for someone he'd just met. But, at the same time? He also wouldn't complain about the slightly-lessened space between him and Medea, close enough that if he was flirting he could slip an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, I don't handle cigarettes too well either. At least, I didn't when I was eight." That little experiment had left him throwing up, with his parents calling the hospital for fear that he'd die. "Hey, consider me the nerdier, immature library that's apparently close to your house," Porter offered, "I'll load you up with a few titles whenever you like. But be warned, if you actually read them, I'll only take that as a sign that I can do things like argue the merits of each Green Lantern with you. And there's literally like fifteen of them."

She laughed. "Hey, I'm up for an intellectual discussion of anything I read, so you're on." Medea told him, smiling at him and again, watching him out of the corner of her eye just obviously enough that he could see it. "And the stuff I read wasn't immature. So I'm assuming there's a lot of it that isn't." she insisted. Then she smiled a little bit cheekier at him. "You tried when you were eight?" she asked. "I never have. But then for me, it'd be asking for trouble."

Here he was, trying to play enough self-deprecation that she wouldn't be disappointed with his collection of superhero shirts, his shelves of comics, or his case of figurines, and she just kept saying the equivalent of 'it's not that bad'. Porter was thrown for a definite loop. "Yeah," he told Medea, "I was sick a lot as a kid, so my mom kept me home. But she couldn't always keep an eye on me, and one day I found one of my dad's cigars." It had taken him years and a few experiments with other stimulants to figure it out, how whatever he was wore itself out faster when processing toxins like that. "Trust me, it's nothing you're missing out on." He looked her way as the breeze picked up, carrying the sound of slight crashes up from the shore a little surges of water ran up over the sand.

"You were?" she asked. "So was I." she said. "Or...still am, sort of." she admitted, looking down at the ground as they walked a few paces. "I'm kind of...frail? I guess? I hate the sound of that, but it's true. Like...here." she said, and she tugged the neck of her shirt to the side, down over her shoulder. Clearly visible by her powder blue bra strap was a bruise that lined it, almost perfectly parallel to the strap. "That's from carrying around my backpack with as many books as I have in it." she explained. "Doctors couldn't ever really figure out what's wrong with me, just that I'm kinda delicate." She made a bit of a face, as if this bothered her. Really, it did, but it was a useful tool as well. It made certain types of personalities want to protect her, which was good for her.

Certain types of personalities did indeed want to protect people like her, especially hero-fixated kids who didn't think they'd measure up. Glancing at the bruise without dwelling on the bra strap, Porter frowned at her. "Weird. Not you, just that. It's like, I'd guess iron deficiency, but a doctor would know if it was. Maybe delicate is a better word?" he suggested, turning his frown around, "Frail's not bad, but I think 'delicate' suits you a little more. I just had all kinds of deficiencies; vitamins, minerals, I was missing a lot. Eventually it got sorted out, but there's other stuff still. Like... I'm always going to be fish-belly white." Of course, 'sorted out' meant learning to drain the life from other beings. "And there's another reason to start the horde. You need someone to lug your books around so you can skip the bruising."

"Hey, there isn't anything wrong with being pale." Medea said. "Better than being fake-tan orange." she said with a little smile. Then she laughed. "Yeah, that would probably work out best for me. I can save all the heavy lifting for my zombies, I won't have to hurt myself doing it. I'm glad that your stuff got sorted, though. I know mine sucks, so I wouldn't wish health issues on anyone else." she said, sounding genuine. She put a little bit of a softer side to her tone, and she walked slightly closer to him still. All little things to suggest there was a kinship she was feeling between them.

"Mine can be a strain sometimes too," Porter confided in a softer tone as she edged just a touch closer to him. He glanced off briefly as they passed his block, noticing that the van was gone. The movers must've hauled all the furniture in, and Porter silently hoped that his mom would have dinner ordered by the time he got back. Even if he'd never really developed an appetite, carryout sounded good. At least it'd be easier than waiting for his parents to unpack the kitchen supplies, and he could get to work on some sketches faster. "If the zombie-thing takes a while getting started, I think I could probably take a book or two if we're both in the halls." Which reminded him, and he looked back her way thoughtfully. "Oh! Um, what grade are you in, even? Back at my old school the lockers were sorta grouped by grade? So I might not even really see you around the halls."

"I'm a junior." she said, and smiled. "That's sweet of you. And I'm not sure how they're grouped, honestly, I haven't paid enough attention. I just have enough trouble navigating the place, trying to find all of my classes and the library to go get lost in. What grade are you in?" she asked curiously. She was judging a year younger, at least, but she couldn't be sure. Either way, she would let on that it didn't matter in the least.

That made him grin hopefully. Maybe they'd even have reasonably close lockers! Wouldn't that make it easier, he mused. "Junior too," he answered, "So we can hope, right? And I'll make sure to find a map, then get you a copy. Or you can just show me the library and we can skip trying to figure out the rest of the place." He knew it'd fall into place eventually, how big could this school be? If Porter had managed to catch up to his peers back in the big city, he'd just have to hang in long enough for the same to happen here.

She smiled brightly at him. "Sounds good to me!" she said. "Maybe you can map out for me everything else, and the quickest ways to get places. I tend to kind of hang back to let the crowd disperse before I rush to my next class. Getting bumped around back and forth a lot just makes sleep hard that night." From all the bruises. Which was partially true. In reality, she hated crowds with a fiery passion and avoided them at all costs because every time she was bumped into, she got another emotional flash off of them, and it was disorienting as hell. It really wasn't a fun time, getting hit up with excited, angry, depressed, blah, annoyed, sappy...all in rapid succession.

"So I get to be Magellan too?" Porter asked, nose wrinkling with a grin at her, "You're putting an awful lot of faith in me, Medea. I'll have to make sure I have some graphing paper with me for Monday. And maybe a cattle prod if it's as crowded as you're making it sound." He didn't hate crowds, but they made him a little uncomfortable. Being trapped in a throng of people like that made Porter nervous, and when he got nervous? Well, sometimes angry thoughts rose up, thoughts he was surprised were coming from his mind.

She gave him a smile that was a little sweet, a little impish. Somewhere inbetwee. "Well, maybe it's faith that's well placed." she told him. "We'll see, won't we? Like I said, I choose to believe until proven wrong." Then she smiled at the ground as they walked for a few more paces and looked back at him again. "I don't figure I will be."

"I can't believe someone like you doesn't already have a fanclub," Porter pointed out, blushing again under her praise. "Even if it's only been a week, unless your sister sends death threats to guys who even look at you, there should already be a few guys I'd have to compete with just for this kind of moment." He shot a teasing wink back at her playful smile, resisting the urge to go for another picture with his phone. "Just backs up my spybot theory, really..."

Medea ducked her head, looking shy and embarrassed a bit, though pleasantly so. "And you just don't stop with the sweet! I'm sure you left a lot of girls with broken hearts back home." she told him. "But alas, no fan club for me. I'm going to have to resort to the zombie hoards thing to get one. No real guys to compete with, if you were of a mind to." she told him. Then she stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "I am not a spybot! What can I do to prove it to you?" she asked, good natured challenge in her tone.

The question made it easy to dodge her compliment this time around as Porter's brow lined in critical thought. "Well, if I had a magnet i could put it to your forehead and see if you went insane," he suggested with a deadpan expression, "And if it wasn't so creepy, I could try to pull off the mask you have over your robo-face. Maybe... which do you like more? A pizza? Or a long, complicated sequence of binary numerals?" Porter had a good poker face, looking at Medea with a mock-wariness as he waited for her answer.

She burst into a little giggle fit. "Robo-face? God you get a million points just for that phrase alone." she told him. Then she sobered, and eyed him critically, eyes narrowed as she made a show of thinking over his question. "Well...as much as I love numbers, I think I'll have to go with pizza." she told him. "It was a rough call, but foodstuffs definitely win." she said with a firm nod. "That's an appropriate answer if I was a meat-people, right?" she asked brightly.

"Yes, if you were a meat-people, that'd convince me," Porter told her, shaking his head at Medea as he laughed. "So sometime soon I'll put you to the test with some actual pizza. And if you're calculating the number of pepperoni on it? The jig is up, robot girl." He couldn't have been luckier with his first contact; even the girls he'd known and occassionally dated back home wouldn't indulge his nerdier side like this. "And what does a million points get me?"

She thought about that, humming to herself as she did so. "Well, you could possibly redeem them for different things, but you'd have to get creative." she said thoughtfully. Then she eyed him like she was really considering. "Or you could stop a second and close your eyes." she said. Then she waited to see if he would do that or not.

He was having enough fun that Porter was willing to risk it. Steeling himself for facing even this minor unknown, Porter stopped moving, gave Medea a somewhat anxious look, and closed his eyes as he curled his hands tight inside his hoodie pockets.

She stopped too, and took just a second to look at him. Trusting little thing, wasn't he? Trusting, easy to play off of...she was betting easy to manipulate once they got to be better 'friends'. She didn't make him wait too long, just a few heartbeats so he'd wonder what the hell she was up to. Then she gave him a little kiss on the cheek--though it wasn't square on the cheek. It was actually just possibly edging the corner of his mouth. Just to keep things interesting, and see how he dealt with it. Then she stood back, hands clasped behind her back. "Okay, you can open your eyes again."

His eyebrows were threatening to climb all the way into his hair when he felt Medea's lips just barely touch one corner of his mouth, and Porter's cheeks were burning as he looked at her again. "Here I was, hoping for a decoder ring," he joked in a soft voice in the moment after, shrugging his shoulders at nothing in particular and taking a small step forward again. Something like that seemed like a clear sign of interest, but Porter wouldn't be so bold as to think she was into him already. Maybe this was just a very elaborate setup for a prank once he got to school. That suspicion seemed hard to justify, though, like it was more of a habitual thought than one he could back up. "But that does go a little ways towards convincing me you're human; there was no electrical discharge."

She smiled at him, looking a little shy, like she hadn't been one hundred percent sure that he'd take that well. "The decoder ring takes two million points. You'll have to build them up again." she told him. "But I'm happy that this furthers evidence towards you believing I'm human and all. I'll have to be sure to note it in my programming. I mean...I'll have to remember."

"Do that," he said, grinning awkwardly as his suspicions wavered in the face of her shyness, "Otherwise I might end up pulling your wig and mask off in the middle of lunch or something, and I don't know if you have embarassment protocols built in. It'd be straight out of Scooby Doo, except it might actually be entertaining, which Scooby Doo never was. I know, heretical words," he tacked on, cooling his cheeks with a return to familiar inanities and starting along towards what he assumed would be Medea's house at some point.

She laughed. "Yes, that would in fact be kind of crazy to deal with. But probably entertainign for you. I can see it now. The crowded lunch room, you unmasking me as a robot. Everyone cheers. Though I don't know what would happen to me, being a crazy robot and all. Would I be sent off to some chop shop to be made into spare parts? Or carted off to be studied? I'd be a very lonely little robot, if that was the case." she said, tsking. Then she paused. "Don't tell anyone, but I didn't like many cartoons as a kid. Remember I mentioned the geek thing? Where I read all the time? I was too busy doing that to get much enjoyment from like...the smurfs or whatever. I kind of found it all..." she paused, trying to find a word. "Uninspiring." Really she found it all devoid of intellectual stimulation.

Porter looked her way skeptically, the skepticism dying out fast to let enthusiasm replace it. Back home, nostalgia was big with the kids at school, even if it was for shows that had been gone before he was born. He-Man shirts on kids who'd never seen the show and all. "Good," Porter told her, "I think all of those shows, except maybe like... Voltron? They were all pretty patronizing. No one gets seriously hurt, there's always a lesson of the week, and there was always a toy or two to buy. I've watched little bits of most of them online, I don't think we missed anything growing up." And while he wasn't directly commenting on it, the robot scenario would make a good comic strip. Maybe just sketch it out, post it on LJ. No one'd connect that to anything.

"I just never found any of them worth watching, no matter what was on. But I suppose, I find most television in general devoid of any merit. Everything seemed dumbed down, like no one's intelligent enough to follow basic plot lines, let alone whole stories about things that matter. No, it's all 'how petty can we be while still being marginally likeable!' and 'how many relationships can we put into one show!' It's stupid, and half the time I feel like it's degrading, even." she said with passion, feigned passion, even if she did really feel that way. She was playing it up, though. "Sorry." she said sheepishly. "Obviously I feel strongly on the subject..."

"Well then you shouldn't apologize," Porter pointed out, leaning to one side to bump her lightly as they walked. "There's nothing wrong with not liking TV. I watch a couple of shows? But just online, when I can set the pace. I prefer things with a little more involvement; reading, even playing videogames stimulates the brain more. Hell, just putting in a movie takes more conscious thought than flipping channels, and if you've got any taste then it's a good movie. Or a laughably bad one." He was chattier than he thought he'd be, but wasn't minding one bit. "Seriously, I know you already said you didn't think comics were nerdy? But I'm not a guy you have to defend your opinions to. Mine are already questionable."

"Well, that's a very good thing, then." Medea said, glancing up the street as they walked. They'd already started making it up the hill, and weren't that far from her house. "I wouldn't say questionable." she said. "I'd saaay..." she paused in thought, eyes rolling up towards the sky as she did so. "Refined." she landed on. "At least you've picked something, and it involves reading. Intelligence of some description, everything. Most guys I've known are allergic to anything involving reading. I can't tell you how many times I've had to answer the question 'what's that for?' when I'm reading in class a book that isn't required. Or why I might be bothering to do something silly like read."

"Refined?" he echoed, "That's a new one, I think. And seriously?" Porter sighed, hoping Medea was exaggerating her complaint about the people he'd probably be in classes with. "Is this the sort of school where I shouldn't answer questions in class? Is there somewhere private I can hide during lunch so I can just read or dick around with my laptop?" he asked, doubling up his questions as they trekked up the incline of the hill. Aside from the hill, Porter was realizing they were only maybe two or three blocks of shoreline removed from each other's respective streets.

"I'm talking in general, but I've gotten a weird look or two in class already, unfortunately." Medea said with a heavy sigh. "So, you could in fact, find someplace to hide with me at lunch, if you wanted." she offered, sounding a little tentative with it. "I hit up the theater the other day. Mostly I've been wandering the school at lunch, sort of avoiding everyone else." She made a little face. "Crowds...not my thing." Which she'd said before, but it didn't hurt to impress a point on someone. Especially if it suggested there could be alone-time with the two of them.

Yeah, that was a good point to accentuate. It would've been an iron-clad one if Porter wasn't in the habit of setting up his Tablet and laptop for some time spent shading his art during lunch and nibbling on a paltry snack while everyone else was making time for a proper meal. "I just might take you up on that," he said in acceptance, "Once I have enough of my map done to find the theater, that is." Of course, he'd make a point to find it early, not wanting to miss the opportunity out of sheer ignorance. If he didn't eat with her? Well, there'd have to be a good reason right now.

"Cool, I'll look for you then." she told him. "Annnd right up there, that's my house. The one with the huuuuge tree and the not so awesomely painted trim." It was an older house, big, but not too huge. Not in spectacular repair, either, but then again it was her foster parents and a bunch of foster kids. "Mine and Isabelle's room is the one right there." she added, pointing to the window above the roof of the porch.

That stuck out to him; the fact that she was showing him which window could feasibly show him her room, which window she'd sneak out of if she was that sort of girl. Is she? Porter silently wondered, thinking on how he might find out. "Cool," he told Medea, glancing up over the porch at her window for a long moment, "Now we're balanced out on personal details, so there's another point against my spybot theory. You're willing to share information." He took a step back to let her start heading home, slipping a hand free like he might try to shake again and waving a bit instead. "And, uh, it was cool running into you, Medea. Keep an eye out for me at school, yeah?"

She smiled at him brightly. "Most definitely. You look for me too, you said something about carrying books for me." she said, giving that tiny bit of shy but pleased expression again, which entailed her head dipping slightly, but her gaze was on him through her eyelashes. "So....talk to you soon." she promised, waving a little back in return before she started back towards her house. She made sure she looked back, though, for effect.

She would've caught sight of him watching her leave, careful backwards steps leading Porter down the beginning of the hill again. He was feeling positive about the move to Marquette, if this meeting could be any kind of indicator. Hell, he was looking forward to school, just on the chance that he'd end up sharing a class with Medea or have a locker close by. And as he finally turned around and headed home, Porter was thinking that no matter how much he should finish off the lettering for his next update page? It'd wait. He had a picture in his phone he was curious enough over to sketch out, first. "Maybe even some zombie jocks," he told himself with a smile, stuffing his hand back in his pocket and heading home.