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[Tim isn't really an expert at determining origins, his worldly knowledge really just limited to his small world, but he's pretty sure this guy's sounding a little different every time he says something.

It makes him raise a brow, but he shakes his head in response to the local question--no, the guy's definitely foreign.

The idea of taking a complete stranger to his school has him feeling a little wary, like something could go wrong, or that something's really off, but he doesn't want to seem rude. So Tim shoves his hands into his pockets and decides to do the nice thing--he can't even remember why he'd gone out of the apartment in the first place.]

Yes, sir, I could. [He bites on his lip for a moment, before looking up properly and sending the man a tiny, tiny smile.] It's, uh, just a couple minutes' walk away, really, so hopefully it won't be too bad for you. [Swallowing, he rubs the back of his neck.] Ah... c'mon, then?

[Tim turns around, beginning to walk, his hands shoved in his pockets and his head turning back slightly to make sure Edward's still following him. He manages a half-grin.] I'm Tim, by... by the way. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Drake.

“You strike me a smart lad. Tell me, do you think I sound new around here?” the smile remains plastered across his face as his accent shifts again ever so slightly, picking up slight hints of a stereotypical Eastern European accent.

“Directions would be excellent, m’boy, but if you’re not busy would it be possible for me to be so direct as to ask you to show me the way?”

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[The question has Tim tilting his head a bit, and though there's still that prickling sensation on the back of his neck, the identification does look official, and he has to give that some credit.] Ah, yeah... Yeah, I'm a freshman there. [He furrows his brows, trying to stick the name in his brain--Edward Drake. He's never met an Edward Drake before, or any Drake for that matter.]

A-Are you new around... here? [He lifts a hand and rustles his fingers through his hair, mussing it up a bit and hating how he can't talk to people like a normal kid. Every instinct in him is telling him to bolt before he does something he'll regret, but he ends up smiling nervously but at the man, anyway.] D-Do you, uh, need directions, sir? [He swallows, pressing his lips together.]

“Good to hear, m’boy.” the man says with a smile, his voice slickly adopting a British accent of some kind. He glances at Tim as the boy’s gaze drops, and then starts rummaging in his pocket.

“Say, son,” he says as he slides out his wallet (black leather) and then slides a card out of that wallet. “You don’t go to the local high school, do you? It’s just I’m taking over as the librarian there by the end of the week.”

He presents the card to Tim, and it does indeed proclaim him to be a member of the State Department of Librarians. A member by the name of Edward Drake.

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[Her words make him blink, but the idea of having a friend--an actual person to hang out with, to talk to, to laugh with--it makes his heart soar and his lips curve up into an almost-embarrassing smile. Tim's a lonely kid.]

... okay. [He ends up ducking his head, teeth digging into his lip as his shoulders shake a bit, but then he's lifting his arm and wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.] Okay. Okay, I--I'm sorry. A-About. About this. Minor breakdown thing.

[He presses his lips together tight, and then reaches up with both his hands to touch hers on his shoulders, holding them and swinging them side to side.] I... Ice cream, right?

I look forward to trying these treats, friend. I am certain you will not poison me. You do not seem the type to try such a thing.

[her eyes widen slightly at his words, and she stops, resting her hands on his shoulders as she bends slightly to look him in the eye]

We have just met, you and I. But you remind me of someone very dear to me. He worries about our remaining friends as well, I think, but it is something neither of you should fear.  

You have a good heart. And I shall be your friend for as long as you wish me to be.

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[Tim jumps, the hand on his shoulder clearly surprising him, and he whirls around with a bit of a confused look on his face.] I... [The man looks classy; way more classy than Tim would ever be able to talk to normally (what with economic division). He's not sure why he's talking to him. Tim's usually dismissed as a stupid kid--usually. Sirens blare in his head and they warn him of stranger danger and pedophiles and men who tell him they have candy in their van.

But he manages a nervous smile.]

I'm... I'm okay.

S'alright, I--I just had a... I blacked out, for a sec there. Hah. I'm doing good, s-sir. [He knows he sounds nervous, but he still feels the premonitions, and nervous is all he can muster.]

There is suddenly a hand on Tim’s shoulder, a hand accompanied with a voice.

“Hey, son, you okay there?”

The voice is level, calm, and devoid of accent. It belongs to tallish man with a lean build, dressed in a cheap black suit. The man’s skin is pale, but the shadows that lie on it seem darker than they perhaps should. His eyes are hidden behind blackened glasses, and a black fedora keeps his hair from view.

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Do you? [He's a little excited, now. She likes sweet things? That makes things so much better!] I can make cookies, and cakes, and all those things. My sister's got a sweet tooth, too! I mean, I can't make ice cream yet--I don't know how, and it's kind of hard--but when I can and if it isn't poisonous, I'll give you some.

[He stops so that they can walk side-by-side instead of him leading her, because he thinks that's what friends do--and she called him 'friend', didn't she? Tim doesn't know the rules of friendship. He hopes he isn't breaking any of them.] Also, even if we're secret friends, that doesn't make you any less important. [He turns his head to look up at her, hoping she sees his honesty.] You're actually one of a handful of people who're nice to me. [His eyes soften, a little.] And it might... it might be, I dunno, really rude of me, but I just... while you're here, let's stay friends, if... if that's okay with you.

[She is silent for a moment before nodding.] A secret…yes, I suppose that is likely the safest option.

[She thinks his smile is sweet, and her smile softens again.] I look forward to trying this ice cream. I must admit…I rather like sweet things.

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theshadowofallthings started following you

[He can't explain it. At first he's walking to buy a carton of milk at the convenience store, and the next it feels like cold has seeped into his skin, and that a clawed hand has wrapped around his heart. Tim's eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, ignoring the fact that there are people walking around him, that they're looking at the boy with worried eyes and clenched fists. He's standing in the middle of a sidewalk. He supposes their stares are explainable.

He bites his lip.

There's something wrong, here. There's something terrible and wrong and a reason he suddenly feels so much dread, but he can't tell what it is. Maybe it's just paranoia. But he can't tell for sure.]

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... [Tim's cheeks flush with delight, and he nods his head.] Yeah. Yeah, she doesn't. It's a secret, right? I--I gotta keep this secret, don't I?

That's okay. I can keep secrets. Secrets're what keep us sane. [He beams, walking with one hand in the pocket and the other holding hers.] Well, ice cream is cold and soft and sweet. And it comes in lots of different flavors, too.

[His hand is warm in hers, and she blinks as he begins to lead her away.]

Just Thana is all right, young friend. You need not give me a title or any such thing. 

[She purses her lips in thought.] I have not had this ice cream before, though I assume it is cold from it’s name. I shall not tell your sister that we have gone to this place. [She winks slowly] After all, she does not know I am here.

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Thana of House Hisildottir... [Her name is spoken with reverence, the last word trailing off in awe, and Tim takes her hand with a grin.] It's an honor to meet you. I'm Tim! And I don't have a house, not really, but my family's got an apartment and maybe that counts?

[Still beaming, he begins to lead her onward.] Oh, man, I'm gonna show you this great ice cream place--but don't tell my sister we went there, okay? She's gonna get really mad at me for not taking her with us, and I don't really like making her upset. [His face looks thoughtful, then, head turning to look back at her curiously.]

Have you tasted ice cream before, Ms. Thana?

[She’s laughing again, and she holds out a hand, palm  up. Her skin is ash-grey, the tips of her fingers a dark scarlet.] 

I would like to see your world, friend. I am called Thana of House Hisildottir.

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Any other... place...?

... You... you're not human. You're--you're something else, a humanoid, but not--human. Not a Homo sapien. Oh my gosh. Really? [He reaches out with both hands, but then retracts quickly because he doesn't know if that's okay, eyes still wide, expression still in slight disbelief.

Tim bites on his lip, for a second.

Then his mouth splits into a wide grin and he finds himself clasping his hands in front of him, head shaking as he rocks on the heels of his feet.] It doesn't! It doesn't frighten me at all, I--I always knew there were others out there, you know? Nobody ever believed me, of course, but now--

I almost can't believe it! Almost. Oh, man. You're real, right? I didn't just get hit in the head by a soccer ball this time?

Wow! [His head ducks, lips still curved up as his eyes shine.] Wow, oh my gosh, it's an honor to meet you! I'll show you around if you want! I mean, I only know really lame places, but you can leave if you get bored! Wow! New on earth and you decide to talk to me... [His head swims. It's mostly unbelievable.]

[She tilts her head, the smile widening slightly.]

Not from America, nor any other place upon your world.

[She straightens, studying his expression.]

Does this frighten you?

[He’s so much like someone she knows….it’s almost uncanny.]

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[The laugh surprises him. Tim stares at her because people don't find him funny, but then at the same time he thinks--'Maybe she's just laughing because I'm a dumb kid, like when people force me to read the Bible at mass and I can't pronounce the names.' Still. For some reason, he thinks she might be genuinely amused, here.]

... Wise? Oh, no, I'm not--I'm just really rude--

[He stops, because the smile on her face is really something else.]

... h-hold on, you're not--from America? Or... not from... [His voice drops, eyes widening in shock as his hands fly over his mouth.] ... here?

[She blinks, and then begins to laugh, her whole face lighting up, the smile pulling at her lips, crimson eyes sparkling with amusement.]

You—[laugh]—are probably the first person I have met so far who has truly made this distinction. 

[She calms down, tilting her head, still smiling.] You need not worry, young one. I am not offended. You are wise to wonder if I am indeed ‘from around here’.  

[She bends forward, a conspiratorial smile growing.] And to be quite truthful, I am not.

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Oh! Oh, th-that's... that's good, then. You just don't really look like you're from around here-- [He pauses, because he realizes that could sound offensive, and his eyes widen as he gestures nervously.] I-I-I don't mean that in any way mean, or offensive, or anything, I just--! I--

... I'm sorry. [He winces.] Sorry. I'm not good at... talking... to people.

[She peers down at the boy, expression unreadable for a long moment before she smiles slightly.]

Not lost. Not at the moment, anyway. 

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thana-hisildottir started following you

Oh, wow, uh... hi, stranger.

A-Are you, um... [he fidgets, briefly] ... you lost?

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marty mcfly | transmit now

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[Tim laughs a little, lifting a hand and lightly scratching at his cheek. His index finger is bent, cheeks colored slightly, and he shakes his head.] Nah, you know I was just named after a Transformer 'cause my dad's weird. I mean, if we could make the whirring and clicking noises naturally, then he probably would've taught me how to speak Cybertronian, too. [Granted, Jack Dubois taught Tim far more... interesting things, in his life. Speaking Cybertronian would have been a little more normal.]

Hey, you know, you could always be, um. Elita-One. [His hand curls into a fist, a light cough pushes into the swirl his index finger makes.] If you wanted. I'd call you that, too. All the time.

“Jeez, you get all the awesomeness in one go there,” she jested with a bit of a cheeky little smirk, “Here I am with a boring name and you’re off being an Autobot and a ninja turtle.”

After her words she gave a bit of a mock pout to accentuate her semi-faux jealousy. She had no true issues with her name, but she did feel it was pretty average and a bit too popular of a name. She’d always adored Tim’s name because she thought it made him seem strong and different, and you couldn’t really go wrong with Transformers, now could you?

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Nah, you know what I am? [Tim grins, ducking his head away from her as he tries to hide the mostly obnoxious curve of his lips.] I'll be a ninja turtle. The fifth turtle.

And except for bein' named after an artist, I'm named after an Autobot. [He sticks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers flexing a bit in it as he rocks on the balls of his feet.] My magic weapon is my awkward.

“I’ll never see you as a weirdo, Tim,” she smiled softly and nudged him a bit again, “Never. And you’d look quite lovely with a flower patterned shell! And maybe you could use it like a defense weapon too, like in the Mario games… Though you wouldn’t want to loose it.” She nodded to that last bit thoughtfully, tapping her chin to ponder.

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spirituslux replied to your post: “Of course I’d take crazy good care of you! Can’t let my precious sea turtle wither away or anything!”

“I hope you never EVER wonder why I adore you, Optimus,” she shook her head with great amusement before rocking a bit on her heels. She was a bit surprised her hadn’t commented on her use of ‘my’.

Uh, it's actually one of life's greater mysteries. [Tim laughs a bit, shaking his head.] C'mon, I just made a comment about plants. That normally constitutes, like, weirdo behavior. [He's grinning, though, rubbing the back of his head.] Maybe I can be a turtle with a flower-patterned shell. So pretty.