#anywhere

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You know his name is Symon, and he gripes about being screwed- not by girls who are still kind of icky he thinks but life which sometimes he rues. While he was able to check what homework he'd have online, darn new procedures are invasive! for some of his classes anyway, Symon may still have one or two classes to check in.

Fortunately as he's at school...

Symon is back after a three day absence. Wearing his traditional long-sleeve black shirt, a new addition is a band around his upper right bicep (if one could even call his stick-thin limb that). Coarsely woven out of unbleached white hemp, with a black ribbon strip. Anyone close to him may notice that his normal sour/mildew smell is rather masked by a lingering musty smell of some flowery incense.

His head is down and he doesn’t seem eager to engage anyone... but that’s hardly new.

There IS a note shoved into the vent of his locker - "Avengers? - S" scrawled in blue ballpoint on a ragged corner of notebook colege-ruled.

Eden walks by, "Don't worry about it, I'm almost sure it isn't a cruel ruse used to lure you into a den of depravity with a girl you don't know"

Then she covers her mouth, the snake pooka sighs

Which, as she is covering her mouth while sighing, makes an odd sound indeed

He glances up at her, peering narrow-eyed through his hair mask. “Da... Sam’s not a girl.” A pause, and he clarifies. “She’s not one of THOSE girls.” Disdain in his whisper plain. “Not that they’d talk to me anyways.” He does not sound at all sad about that.

He runs the scrap of paper through his fingertips, flipping it over to check for any other possible hidden messages, then tucks it into a pocket.

"DOn't mind my tongue, it wanted to go on vacation so split about a year and a half ago." A look and.. "Oh I am ... it's mourning in America. I didn't know.. Un Mozel TOv?"

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter. I just have to wear this until they forget about me, you know. Pious son.” A exhalation of a scoff. “Did we get any homework in English? Or any more grammar insects?” Sounding more interested in the latter.

Rather than speaking, she hands over her own homework notes for him to look over, written is safer than speaking for her it seems

He glances over it, and gives her a nod. “Mind if I borrow these to copy? I can give them back after lunch.”

"Is that against the rules or something?" She questions

A raised eyebrow. “Would you care if it was? Didn’t think you were the goody-two shoes sort.” But, relenting. “No, they said to get the notes. And if my grades fall then my father will restrict my gaming time, mourning or no.” A grimace shows that this is Not an acceptable option.

"I AM Goody, I just can't talk about the shoes now," SHe says, then adds, "I have pamphelts to prove it. Of course, I'm destined to start offering apples.. " SHe sighs and hands them over, "here."

“Apples aren’t bad. If you let them get a bit mealy first.” A pause, and he remarks a bit awkwardly. “I don’t like wearing shoes either.”

"I..." She starts to try to..but then no because the...maybe if she... finally she laughs a bit and says "Yeah well, I'll probably end up in high heels anyway. "

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “How can you run in those if someone comes after you?”

"I'm told girls in heels want to get caught" a nose wrinkle of distaste, "but...don't worry about me. Let's worry about you? Have you found Jesus? And if so...is it safe to remove him from the milk cartons?"

“I wasn’t looking. More of a neutral evil sort, if I had to pick one.”

"oh, we have flames for that!" A sigh "Sorry, my mouth is...you see, as a troll..." The pooka says "It all comes out so plane... and usually smacks a WTC tower."

“It’s okay. I think I get it.” Shuffling the papers to get them tucked away. “Better get to class though. I’ll catch you later.”

She nods and moves on

As does he.

On his way to class, he feels a chill

He shivers- a quick glance around, but then drops his head and scuttles off to math.

"don't let her live.." A whisper

and gone