Ravyn: Ahh, night in the city of New York. It's a cool, just barely-over 40 degrees in the streets and alleys of the Garment District...not one of the nicest neighborhoods, but not the shithole that say, Harlem or Hell's Kitchen is. Most of the shops in this area have closed down, but there's a few coffee shops and small cafes still open. All in all, a lazy Thursday night finds Candy as she explores.

Candy: Candy, looking thoroughly unfashionable. A white tee, covered in a loose jacket left undone. Cargo pants - not last summer's cut, but something older and less flattering. She's pretty normal in this way, hair bound back, and might be unobtrusive in the night. She looks around curiously, pausing here and there to watch the broken glass glitter on the pavement. She often follows the lights and brighter things, sparkling perhaps? She often passes by the dark alleys and cracks in the cement with little care.

Ravyn: The shadows of the night are strong, several street lamps flickering, a casualty of cutbacks in public funding years ago. It's a bit rougher then it might appear at first light...but a bit safer, for those who call the streets home. Thus, the homeless crowd in the alleys, sit on the streets. A few strum on their worn guitars, and a warm glow comes from a nearby one, where a few gather around a garbage can on fire.

Candy: Her pace slows, looking around now and again at the people. She'd been at the shelter for a while, and could clearly remember the first night - winter, at that. Hands tuck into her pockets, fingers curling over nothing as she walk on at more of a daudle now.

Ravyn: One of the street perfomers, an older looking man with a threadbare-worn skullcap and a heavy, old coat on pounds away on a bucket with drumsticks. He looks up at Candy as she comes up, giving a wide, mostly-toothed grin. "'ey, there, cutie. 'ow're ya?"

Candy: She smiles to see him, crouching down beside him easily. Her arms rest over her legs, wrists on her knees. "Keen," she answers pretty warmly. "How're you?" She nods to the bucket, bobbing. "'S cool."

Ravyn: "Ehh, s'okay." He shrugs a little bit. "Doin' what I can, y'know?" He sets the drum sticks aside, and pats the spot next to her. "C'mere...have a sit. Do an' ol' man a favor an' give 'im some conversation ta warm 'im in this cold-ass weather. If'n ya want, I mean...ain't tryin' to get up on ya er nothin'."

Candy: She grins at that, and it melts away again. She plops down unceremoniously to sit in the patted spot, legs drawn up, arms around them. "Sure. 'kay. Uh..." a moment of thought, chin on her knees. "Didja see the sky t'day, riiight around sunset? -Red-, huh?"

Ravyn: "Yeh..." He smiles warmly, chuckling a little bit. "Yeh, it was pretty beat'ful. I love a good New Yawk sunset." He wipes his hand off on his coat and extends it to her. "I'm Caleb."

Candy: She shakes her sleeve away from her hand and takes his, squeezing. Her palm is warm, damp, fingers cool. "I'm Candy. Hey, we sound almost the same," she remarks amusedly, with a certain lightheartedness. She looks too lucid to be on something, really.

Ravyn: "Candy an' Caleb," he says with a wheezy sort of chuckle. "Yeh, I guess we do." He leans back a little bit, smiling amicably. "So whaddya doin' out this late, Candy? Streets ain't so safe fer a girl like ya."

Candy: Her lips jutt out, head tilting in that vague shrugging gesture. "Chasin' stars. Can't find 'em in the sky, but the glass is a lot like 'em on the ground." She points out a pale hand for her example, toward the gutter for emphasis. "Pretty," she explains.

Ravyn: He follows her gaze to the streets, and gives another chuckle. "At's an int'restin' way o' lookin' at the garbage. I like it."

Candy: "Thanks, Caleb." She smiles again, closed-lipped but wide. Her lips have cracked, and are peeling thanks to the weather. She's pale as if she'd spent more time locked in a basement than locked out of a home. "What're you doin' out here? 'S late." Curiosity over hypocricy. Her hand retreats, wrapping around her legs again, back bent in a curve to keep the position. It's childish, in a way, notably for being utterly unself-conscious.

Ravyn: "Me?" He shrugs. "Ain't nowhere else f'r me ta go. Shelters always fill up early, an' I don' make any money 'till they long filled. So here I am, with my drum."

Candy: She leans over, nudging him with a shoulder. "Yo, is it usually this emty here? C'n I help? Huh, huh?" Her dark brows bob up and down, playful, prodding maybe, but the offer is honest, not insinuating.

Ravyn: "Help?" His head quirks to the side a little, bemused smile coming to his lips. "Shore, if'n ya wanna. Dunno whatcha c'n help with, really, but if yer interested..." He shrugs.

Candy: She bobs a nod, wispy fly-away hairs bouncing in a nimbus of frizz around her head. "Dunno what I c'n help either. Uh, not readin'. Gotta be somethin'."

Ravyn: "Hmmm..." He squints, a wide grin slowly spreading over his face. "Well, we'll figger somethin' out, Candy. Hell, jus' by bein' here, yer lightin' up the block." He grins and points up to the weak, flickering lights.

Candy: d10: Manip + Meditation: 2,10,3,5,10,3,3,

Candy: She looks up to the lights when he points them out, brows knitting, squinting. She stares hard at them for a moment, at least, looking at them very intently to the exclusion of all else.

Ravyn: The light flares for a moment, almost threatening to expand to dangerous levels, before it softens out to a warm, healthy glow. Caleb blinks and looks up at the light, amazed. "Well, wouldja look at that," he says with a wide smile. "Some kinda coincidence, eh? Pretty funny. Mebbe ya do light up the block."

Candy: "Thanks," she replies brightly, though if it's to him, or thanking the light for brightening... eh, either way. She may not be mature, but she's not bad company.