Arcade: Gwen & Perry
Perry seemed eternally made up of cotton layers in varying colors, always with a spot or sleeve of red somewhere, and today was no exception. Already in the depths of the arcade, Perry successfully integrated with most of the teenagers there, though he was significantly older and the gap of four years was significant to all the occupants therein. He managed to garner some acceptance and interest at the pinball machine, as he had beat the high score about two minutes ago and he was still playing. He was missing his ubiquitous messenger bag, sporting only the sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt, and he looked uncharacteristically sober as he hit the buttons on a pinball machine and the points continued to multiply. The two or three teenagers there were of the younger, aspiring sort, the ones that weren't interested in sneaking cigarettes out on the other side of the orchards or leaving pennies on the train tracks. They watched Perry at the pinball machine with a very thin veil of skepticism that kept revealing small wonder underneath.
Perry somehow sensed Gwen approaching, and he turned his head at just the wrong moment. The metal ball plunged down the playfield and was lost. The assembled children (all three of them) murmured vague disappointment and pretended not to be interested once more. Perry pushed away from the machine in a gesture of over-dramatized casualness, and he put his hands in his pockets as he wandered down the row in her general direction. He stopped and put his hand out to the left, leaning on what turned out to be a crane machine filled with pink elephants as he watched her approach. He hid his discomfort, but not well.