Who: "Alice White" and "Django Frank" (Parker and Pietro) What: Hot dogs and awkward friend-ness. Where: A hot dog stand somewhere in Orange County. When: Sunday afternoon. Rating: PG-13ish? PGish? Status: In progress.
'Friends'. Parker had heard the term plenty of times. It was some form of bond between two people, a sort of affection that made people want to do stuff together. Or so she assumed; to be honest, she'd never really had a friend before, and that made this whole thing an entirely alien experience. The past ten or so days of forced bonding with Wrex and the kids at Urdnot Ranch had made her profoundly uncomfortable, but it had also been good for her. It made her almost want to be a normal person, rather than just a solitary thief. Maybe it was time to try something new.
She wasn't really sure what had possessed her to ask Django out for hot dogs, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Friends did stuff together, right? And he was the closest thing she had to a friend. At the very least, he was one of the few people that seemed to actually want to talk to her, and that knew about her sticky fingers. That alone made her relax a little as she sat outside the hotdog stand, chewing on her thumbnail nervously. It was almost as if most other people got a mask: that weird girl who taught gymnastics and who had no idea how to talk to people. Sure, she hadn't told him her real name yet, but she was fairly sure he could figure it out. It's not like she made an effort to hide it. The protective shell she kept around her could slip just a little, and it was kind of nice.
After eating, she was going to give him her phone number, she decided. While it might seem insignificant to other people, it was a big deal for Parker. A phone number meant she could be tracked. Trapped. It was a direct tie to her and it made her antsy, but this was what friends did, right? Had phone numbers so they could contact each other for friend-things. And friend-things were good.