[center][h3][color=a2d39c]DAKOTA[/color][/h3][/center] The casual chatter among the students was almost loud enough to drown out the low shout that echoed in the distance. What it didn't drown out, however, was the person who made that shout: everyone's favorite forgetful fool, Dakota Roice, cresting over the hill and speeding down towards the group, still shouting. [color=a2d39c]"Look ooooooout!"[/color] Dakota flailed her arms in front of her as she careened towards everyone else, gliding along the ground as if it were ice. She had [i]just[/i] enough control to avoid crashing into any kids, though, yelling, [color=a2d39c]"Sorry I'm late agaaaaain!"[/color] as she passed a large group of people. In a last-ditch effort, Dakota tried to dig her heels into the ground, like a brake, only to lose balance completely and tumble to the ground with all the momentum behind her. And so she lay, a crumpled, scuffed, and bruised heap on the ground. But then she lifted herself up on her arms, sighing out a breath of relief. "Whew! Those are [i]way[/i] different from ice skates," she said to herself as she picked herself off of the ground, brushed a few twigs and pebbles from her hair, and unlatched the thick journal from its belt. Not paying any mind to the onlookers her commotion caused, Dakota began jotting down the whole ordeal in her book, humming to herself without a care in the world.[hr][center][h3][color=7ea7d8]ORSON[/color][/h3][/center] [color=7ea7d8]"Sorry to disappoint, but I think you're not as early as you hope."[/color] At the edge of the orange light of the warehouse, halfway in the shadows, someone sat in a small metal chair facing Molly. All she could make out was the man's sprawled-out legs in their roomy pants and a pair of tan feet, their skin rough and one looking more like a flesh-colored sock than an actual body part. She could make out the outline of his torso in the dimness, though before her eyes could adjust, he leaned into view. A muscular arm resting on his knee, Orson peered at Molly, squinting in the light. [color=7ea7d8]"Really?"[/color] He asked after scrutinizing her. [color=7ea7d8]"You were out, broad daylight, looking like [i]that.[/i] Damn..."[/color] He stood up, the chair creaking from the loss of his weight, and he stepped into the center towards her. It might've been a bit hypocritical, since Orson stood out too, with his shawl and the addition of a porkpie hat, but he didn't bring that up. [color=7ea7d8]"See, this is why I can't stand you conventional villains,"[/color] he continued. [color=7ea7d8]"You play the role of a criminal but do it so blatantly, with so much [i]style,[/i] it's a wonder any of them can stick around for as long as they do. No subtlety."[/color]