Mary
———
It was an unnatural time for Uriel to be awake— unnatural in the sense that it was a perfectly *Normal* Time to be awake. As they walked down the halls, area teeming with children walking to and fro, Uriel takes a moment to gaze out at the Swedish afternoon sky and think to themselves. 

It *Had* Been a while since Uriel was able to enjoy any of the facilities at Newton's Cradle. Most of the more regulated rooms were closed in the night, much to their chagrin. 

*Hmm... I remember Sinclair talking about some books the other day. Perhaps I can go pick up some titles they didn't have on hand with them? It might quell their anxieties to have someone to talk to, at the very least...* 

Uriel's feet seemed to move on their own inside the library as they once again lost themselves in their own internal monologue and daydreams— an unending stream of consciousness rabble that only ended by the very sudden existence of the person *Right in front of them.*

They slam into the person with a *Thud*. While Uriel manages to keep their footing, their unnaturally pallid expression changes to one of surprise as they realize their mistake. 

"I- oh, are you alright?" They lean downwards, offering a hand to the fallen girl. "I... Bumped into you, then?" Uriel says the sentence slowly, almost as if manually processing the event as they began speaking.
John
Ah, the library. Serene. Spacious. And filled with books. Reading was one of the few pastimes that she genuinely enjoyed, other than drawing faces of people or the surroundings before her or the occasional videogames. It was only 1pm; right after lunch break had ended, she had already found herself int he library with the intent to scratch the itch of not having read something for a while now, other than desk assembly instructions provided by IKEA.

Now, picking a book was a big task. She had to pick *One* Book or series of books that she will need to finish from start to bottom before moving on; no skipping, no giving up. This was a huge committment, one that she will have to see through whether she enjoyed it or not. After all, she hadn't had an educational course figured out yet since she was new, admitted a few days ago with her arms tied literally behind her back.

That serenity would be cracked, no, shattered, as soon as she had picked up a leather-bound book titled "The Structure of Scientific Revolutions" By Thomas S. Kuhn, and appeared to be the third edition, published 1996. It felt like a good pick seeing how she hadn't delved too deeply into scientific books before, but that said serenity would end as soon as she stepped back, some random idiot bumping into her like a fucking drunkard roaming the streets.

Margarita's fall seemed like an overreaction, and it would seem like it, but the goddamned imbecile's foot was just behind hers, causing her to not just get bumped, but trip and fall too.

So much for serenity...
.

"Am I alright?" She bluntly asked, rubbing her head as the book fell on her side as well. "Yeah, I'm alright, I don't fucking know about you though." She said as she sat up, reaching for the book she had just dropped. "No you didn't bump into me, you fucking drove a car into me- yes you bumped into me, moron!" She replied with a scoff, standing up without receiving the other's help, which was probably a bad idea since he can't even seem to navigate a library, a structured place with clear pathways, on his own.
Mary
"..." 

The person standing in front of Margarita simply watched as the barrage of insults unfolded, unflinching at the verbal assault careening their way. They blinked— perhaps taken aback at the explosive response, perhaps not. It was hard to tell *What* They were thinking, actually.

"I apologize for— all of this." They reflexively lower their tone to a soothing hush, befitting of the library the two found themselves in.

*A rather... Abrasive attitude, and a thick Italian accent. There's only one person this could be.* Uriel attempted to re-adjust their appearance, in order to cobble together the semblance of a good impression. Gloved hands run through their snowy hair, tugging lightly on the end of their braid to tighten the knot. They fiddled with their indigo poncho, making sure the warm fabric is laid flat on their shoulders. 

"Ah, but... You are Margarita, no?" They asked, finally opening their mouth. As Uriel attempts to offer support in any way, they take in the little notes of the girl's appearance, looking for a semblance of extra information to confirm or deny their own hypothesis. 

"So this is who you are in person, then." The French-accented English is a bit soft, less in tone and more in volume. The statement is matter-of-fact, devoid of any judgement; simply an observation spoken out loud. 

"Are your possessions safe? It would be rather dire if I damaged any of the personal belongings in your bag, or any property of Newton's Cradle." They continued, dark grey eyes sweeping the immediate area for any lingering items knocked in the collision.
John
Margarita wanted to punch the person right in front of her squarely on their jaw, but she held off, resorting to an audibly annoyed heavy breathing routine, their anger subsiding by each second that passes.

"*Sí, sono Margarita* (`Yes, I'm Margarita`) You?" She replied back in her annoyed yet obviously Italian accent, finally managing to look at the other person in the eye without managing to think of thoughts that could end up in physical harm.

"Yeah, it's me, I'm stretch-underscore on the intranet. That fucking asshole..." She said in a manner that was leaning toward calm, disturbed briefly with anfer for a moment as she remembered that one imbecile in the Intranet chatroom, starting aggression for no reason. "Anyways, erm... No, nonono, everything's fine, even the book, ah."

Spotting her phone on the ground, she shot her arm out of her jacket sleeve, a metre or so of elongated arm grabbing the aging phone and putting it within the safety of her right pocket, her arm remaining elongated and bendy like a noodle before retracting it.

"Just... Just look where you're going dude. A- anyways, all that aside, you good?" She somehow managed to care for the other guy. It's true, she's impulsive and short-fused, but it works the other way around as well; she's also easy to calm down, provided whatever is annoying or angering her is resolved.

What a kid.
Mary
Uriel breathed a sigh of relief as Margarita seemed to rein in her temper. There'd been far too much conflict in intra, and seeing the supposed tension not translate to real life was reassuring— perhaps there was hope for the more.. Passionate people they'd encounter over there. 

"My name is Uriel Melancon, but you'd most likely know me by my screen handle, the red king. It's a pleasure to meet you, Margarita." They extend a formal handshake towards the girl as they talk. Their pronunciation of her Italian name is a bit... Off, the lightly-accented French adding an h sound between the r and g. 

"I will be more cautious in the future— rest assured, I am alright, however." 

Uriel's eyes track the movement of the rubber-like limb, a single white eyebrow perking up ever-so-slightly at the action. It was the first time they'd seen the ability in person, and while the power was easy to conceptualize, it was a bit more unnerving in person. 

The book in Margarita's hand surprised Uriel. They leaned down ever so slightly, letting out an interested hum upon reading the title. 

"That book seems... Interesting. What is it about, if I might ask?"