"Où suis-je?" To pass the time, Oakley mumbled to herself. Not like a crazy person, no, just under her breath. Doing something always made time go faster and one thing she enjoyed doing to pass the time was flick between the different languages she knew. It was hard and gave her something to focus on other than her arm. "Maybe I shouldn't have left... uh, oh, um, père serait... inquiet. Or maybe I, O tal vez debería... said something. Haber dicho algo. Oui. This... is difficile! Oh boy."
Oakley turned her as she heard a voice address her. Not by name, but the short "hey" thrown at her direction by a boy, no a man next to her. She looked at him for a minute as she tried to understand his question. Sure, it seemed simple enough to any other person, but was there a hidden meaning? Why had he asked her out, out of all these people? She thought she had tried to blend in, or at least made it a little obvious that she wanted to be left alone without being rude. What was it? Did he know something, suspect something? Was the cast too suspicious? When she had taken too long thinking about, he turned his head away from her.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer,” she barely heard the words came out of his mouth. She frowned a little and turned her to face him. She couldn't see his face, only the back of his head. His hair was weird, dirty blonde with lighter blonde streaks. It was... messy. A little weird. But what weirded her most was his name. Michael. She only had the foggy image of a 12 year old boy in her mind when she thought that name. The same kind of feeling when you heard your own name but it was not you who that person was talking about. A shimmer of hope, only met with defeat. Hah, she was definitely thinking this through too hard.
"J'avais un frère... oh!" She had not said this too loud, just enough to remember what she was doing. Whoops. "Uh, have a brother called Michael," she thought aloud. She did want to share anything that would bring too much attention to her, something that would draw it away from her and to someone else. Back to him. He would say something about knowing a lot of people called Michael (it was quite a common name after all) and she would return with something about how her name was unique and then the conversation would run dry, unless he questioned her if they stayed on the topic of her too long. Her. Her clothes? Her arm. It twinged a little.
Yep, thinking about it all a little too hard.