Re: Train tracks: Oliver & Gwen
Gwen had limited social experience to draw upon. Her very short life had been populated with laboratory scientists, and they didn't boast the best social skills. Her predecessor, whose experiences she could access, wasn't particularly useful when it came to being a template for social interaction. Gwen'd read a lot of stuff about being young, but fiction wasn't the same as actually walking outside and talking to a weird boy who painted tracks with chalk, and she was left regarding that wince with a look of blatant confusion.
"Why did you wince?" Her question was a response to his own question, which remained unanswered for the moment. She blinked curious cornflower eyes at him, her expression hungry with the need for explanation and understanding. She regarded this experience as one to learn from, because that was the logical way to proceed given the parameters of this current situation. But she was totally interested in his response, in a way that was all curious girl and not any search for depth of knowledge.
She was used to watching the world via computer screen. Google Earth and Youtube and Vines, and this was different. She could smell cold and dirt on the air, and she could imagine the number of germs she was inhaling with each breath, and she equated these things with really living.
She was unskilled enough in human interaction that the brutal and unforgiving honesty on his face became a template for humanity as a whole, and she shoved forward an unskilled and ungraceful hand, fingers cold in their lack of mittens. "I'm Gwen. Why are you drawing flowers with a non-permanent drawing instrument? It'll totally get washed away."