[A camper, who looks to be about sixteen turning seventeen, or maybe seventeen already, is sitting on a large wooden chest. He actually just turned fifteen, but no one need know that. He wants to be reading a book right now, something poetic or maybe something strange, but books are for smart children, and he doesn't want to appear too clever, not
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Hello, [she said with a grin.]
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Hello.
[Not unpleasant, but with a tone that slightly suggests 'who are you and why are you talking to me?' And, yes, that is a very slight German accent. He will someday rid himself of it, but for now? It's there.]
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Who are you?
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What about you?
[Finally, a small smile, but even that seems incredibly forced.]
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Instead she closes the book and looks up, coolly courteous.] Hello.
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I have that book. I was wondering if you'd gotten to the part about statistical mechanics, yet . . . It's near the end, I believe.
[A little awkward, so he tries to fix this.]
Adrian Veidt. [Holds out a hand for her to shake: very formal.]
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Welcome to camp, geek.
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Thanks, asshole. [Yes, fifteen year old Adrian Veidt curses ... occasionally. When he's mad, and you've gotten his pretty clothes all dirty.]
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Except for that grasshopper by the river. And by 'bother', he means 'crouch near, study intently, and draw'. Feel free to notice his all black, second-rate ensemble. Or just remark on his obvious dorkiness.]
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I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you. [He can be very polite, when he wants to be.] But what are you drawing? [He can't see the grasshopper from where he's sitting, after all.]
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It... was a grasshopper. [Agitated reply. Then he remembers to be polite. Or, rather, realizes he's talking to another human, and social anxiety sets in.] S-sorry. It's not your fault.
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It's okay. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I shouldn't have interrupted. [Slightly huffy. Going back to being antisocial now.]
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"I apologize for being late. My joker of a boyfriend kept me. He wanted me to help him catch rats-- as if! He can be so disarmingly disgusting at times." [She shakes her head, then perches her chin on the back of her fingers.]
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You're still dating him? Wait. Why did he want to catch rats? [He just shakes his head and takes the book, opening the cover and flipping through some pages.]
Pevear and Volokhonsky translation. Thank you. You know, I can't stand reading Dostoevsky's work when its translated by Constance Garnett. It's still good, of course, but I prefer my Russian novels to actually be Russian, in some aspects. [Scoffs. Constance Garnett always makes everything so British.]
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At the book, she nods.] "Agreed. I'm endeavoring to learn the language for the sake of enjoying his works in their original vision, but it's a hint for difficult than I might have given it credit for."
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I intend to learn it too, but I'm trying to perfect my Mandarin first. [That would be his fifth language.] It really is incredible to read the works in their original. Have you read Nietzsche in German?
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