just desserts (c)

She didn't have to wait for long for someone to respond to her banging. In the next moment, she heard someone talking back, and before she knew it a blond head was hanging out from the window, in apparent fascination with her multi-colored hair.

She was glad he liked it; it had taken a helluva lot of effort to get it this way. Half of her head was blonde, the other half brunette, and the bangs red, yellow, and blue. Bree couldn't even remember what her original hair color was, she had been dying it for so long. Before her trip to Nova, it had been streaked with bright green and purple, but she had decided to give herself a new look to celebrate. And so far, she liked it.

Bree grinned at the transfixed vendor. "Would you believe me if I said ice cream did melt in my hair?" she asked him, leaning against the side of the truck. "I hope not, 'cause that'd be a total lie. I just dunked my head in a bucket of bleach and then used chemicals to do the rest. You should try it sometime! It's real fun."

She tilted her head, causing her colorful bangs to slide to the side. "Anyways, I forgive you for not paying attention, because you like my hair. Got a name, Ice Cream Boy?"

ARLO BÄCKER

Bree didn't miss the ever-so-faint blush that graced Ice Cream Boy's face. She was trained to notice these things, thanks to her family. Ahh, the Irish mob had really prepared her for life better than any school could have. Honestly, Killian was just wasting his time with all that university nonsense.

Was Ice Cream Boy one of those people who got flustered easily? God, she hoped so. She found people like that hilarious. They were almost as good as scaredy-cats in that regard. Right, it was decided; she was going to make this guy her buddy. Maybe this was a hasty decision, but that was how Bree did things, and she had never, not once, regretted a spur-of-the-moment decision.

She grinned back at Ice Cream Boy, her mind already concocting plans for all the fun that she could have. "Right, nice ta meetcha, Arlo!" She replied, before pointing at herself."As for me; first name Bree, last name O'Malley, at your service. If you couldn't tell from the Irish accent, I'm not from around here. And I don't care whatever flavor you give me, as long as it's got sprinkles, a crap-load of rainbow sprinkles!" She waved the arm that wasn't against the truck in an swooping arch, to demonstrate the large amount of sprinkles she wanted with her cone. Sprinkles were very important to a good ice cream cone, in Bree's opinion. "Surprise me!"

ARLO BÄCKER

He really had taken her remarks about adding a crapola of sprinkles to her ice cream. The Irish girl's eyebrows rose an inch as she examined the proferred cone with a grin on her face. Now that was what she called proper service. Still grinning, she accepted the rainbow cone from his hand, before digging into her hoodie's pocket for the change. "There you go, my good sir," she replied, tossing the change his way and bowing her head playfully in his direction. "For your troubles." She did occasionally pay people for their services. Please, she wasn't a complete crook. She had class! Though, being chased down by an ice cream truck sounded like a fun adventure. She'd have to put that down on her to-do list for the future.

She eyed her ice cream appreciatively. This was going to be like eating a rainbow. She truly did live the dream. Now if only she had had something sharp and pointy to run around with, life would have been perfect. But, alas, she didn't. She'd just have to make to do with just the cone. How absolutely tragic.

Bree tried a lick, and came away with no ice cream, just sprinkles. Hmm. She was remarkably okay with this. Not in the mood to leave yet, the girl continued to lean against the side of the truck. "So, guessing you're a native to this place, Ice Cream Boy?" That was what he would forever be to her. He sold ice cream. He was a boy. It made perfect sense.

ARLO BÄCKER

"I did say that, indeed." Bree agreed with him, nodding. "Don't worry Arlo, your memory's not failing you yet." Just wait until he got older, though. Old people were notoriously forgetful, a fact that made them kind of funny but also kind of irritating. Luckily, most of her jobs didn't tend to take place in nursing homes, so she didn't have to deal with doddering grannies or forgetful grandpas very often.

Bree took another lick of her cone (mmm, sparkles) and then leaned in conspiratorially. "Lemme let you in on the straight skinny here, Arlo; Ireland's pretty great. Very green. Lots of explosions." Most people didn't get the explosions experience; it really all depended on how close they lived to hear. TNT was one of her favorite playthings. "Anyways, one day, my old uncle called me up and tasked me with finding his errant son- who totally ditched us, by the way, the rude wee lad- and came to live here. So here I am! Present to look after my cousin, and also to live on his couch. It's a very nice couch, Arlo, take my word for it. I don't know where he got it from, but damn, it it nice. I quite like it here so far; have you seen those beaches? I haven't, but apparently they're quite lovely."

She liked this growing obsession with beaches she was acquiring.

ARLO BÄCKER

God, she did miss the explosions, though. Maybe as a nice present to Killian, she could rig some miniature explosives in his backyard, or wait until a cold night to set fire to his shrubbery so that they could warm their hands while simultaneously gazing at the stars and pondering their place in the cosmos. It sounded like a wonderful family bonding experience indeed.

"Well, I should hope you've been to the beach, Arlo," Bree commented as she continued to eat her ice cream. It really did taste like a rainbow, or at least what she imagined a rainbow would taste like. She hadn't actually eaten one yet, but it was on her bucket list and she was working on it. If science never did find a way to make rainbows a digestible food, then there was always hardcore drugs to fall back on. Good ol' drugs; they always had her back. "I mean, you just said it yourself; you're a native, boyo! It's criminal to miss those beaches, or so I've heard. Seriously, the tourist brochure I read on the way over here was very firm on that topic."

She blinked inquisitively at him, adopting an interrogative air, pretending for a moment that she was some sort of detective rather than a simple young felon. "So, would you say it's worth it or not to go to the beaches?" She demanded. "Answer carefully now. Oh, wait, I have another question, and this one is important too, so think long and hard about it. Not too long, though, because I'm a busy girl, Arlo." Extending her free hand, she pointed at him. "What...is your favorite color?"

Hey, this was a pretty important question. She wasn't kidding around here. This would be the factor that decided whether he was worthy to hang around her or not.

ARLO BÄCKER