Michael
"Ah, no worries," Owen assured, flashing his lopsided grin back at the formerly-lost tree fellow. "Here we are!" He strode toward the door in front of them, idly swiping his sword-stick through the air as he walked. He seemed to be debating with himself about whether it was a rapier or a broadsword. 

Rushing a few steps ahead, he twirled the stick to rest under his arm (only dropping it a little) and held the door open, doing a little chivalric flourish for good measure. 
"Was lovely meeting you and Jeffrey-" His eyes softened as they braved another glance at Joshua's (man, he was *Tall*)- "And best of luck finding that greenhouse," He finished. His voice still wavered a little, but there was laughter in his eyes.
Cristal
Joshua smiles at Owen's flourishes. He nods and says "Thank you" As Owen opens the door, but before passing through it he sets Jeffrey down again, then offers the small lemon to Owen. "Here. I've got more than I can do anything with as it is."
Michael
"Oh!" Owen gingerly accepted the lemon. "I'll use it wisely," He promised, a chuckle crackling up from his chest. His eyes nearly closed when he smiled, sort of like a cat's. He held the lemon gently- a gift was a gift, even if it was ..A lemon. "Maybe I'll make soup later," He mused. That sounded nice. A leaf drifted loose from his hair. 

"I'm off to make my blood ten percent cranberry juice," He drawled, his gait lazy and long. "You get some rest- you and Jeffrey both," He finished, twirling his stick for punctuation. Maybe he was tired from falling out of that tree a dozen times, but he was enjoying this strangely relaxed state he was in today. The friendly striking tree guy didn't hurt. 

A couple droplets of rain and another leaf hit the ground by his boots. 
"May we meet again!"
Cristal
Joshua picks up Jeffrey one last time, smiles at Owen, and says "It's been a pleasure meeting you." Whicb it has. Owen's the first person here, or anywhere really, that's been friendly to Joshua for seemingly no reason.
"Enjoy your soup and cranberry juice!" He says over his shoulder as he walks through the door and into the building.
Lynne
—skulkin n sulkin—

Finley traced their fingers along a spindling tree aching for sunlight around the bridges of Newton's Cradle's outdoors. They drew their initials over the bark in invisible ink, resting their head against a tree. Something akin to boredom pulled heavy on their limbs, resting their blue eyes in a state of half-lidded exhaustion. Motivation came in short, sweet spurts, something that occasionally dragged their feet to a class, at a desk, sitting up with half-piqued attention to whatever a various instructor had to say for a slog of minutes or hours, and then, they didn't care for the rest of the day, choosing instead to lay across the grass outside or in the carpeted floor of their room, staring listlessly at the ceiling and ignoring the occasional buzz of the intranet. 

In other words - Finley was burnt out.

It had taken longer than they might have supposed it would, a few months of routine, a complete limit from anything foreign to the Cradle. They missed their sister, first. She would have had ideas about what to do, pointing out situations that Finley would have otherwise ignored. Sometimes, if Finley had a particularly important class to attend, they'd imagine their sister jabbing them in the side, her voice in the back of their head, telling them to get their ass up and go. 

It helped, sometimes.

But now, it was the weekend, and nothing such was happening, so they sat in the sunshine, and traced their fingers in the dirt, occasionally tossing stripped rocks up and down. Might as well get some Vitamin D, right?
Bryan
It was a nice day, all things considered. The sun was shining, the wind was calm, and because it was Saturday, there was no schoolwork either. If you deluded yourself hard enough, you could almost make yourself believe it was warmer than inside the fridge. Not that that would really help in the long term - you'd still find yourself freezing - but the thought was nice. Nice enough that some people actually cared to go outside.

Mél was one of those people. Usually, she was an inside kind of person, but she hadn't really made any friends, or enemies, or really any kind of personal attachment at Newton's Cradle, and it got pretty boring hanging out with no one. So she went outside. Maybe there would be people to talk to there?

So she went outside, and took a brief look around, but didn't see anyone out in the open. She decided, for whatever reason, to keep walking instead of going back inside. She went out onto the track in the courtyard, and took a look around, but there was no one there, and she kept walking. She walked past benches, and trees, and the vegetable garden, but she didn't see anyone there. Most people must be out in the town, she assumed, and began to go back inside, absorbed in her thoughts.

She didn't pay much attention to the world around her when she was alone. She didn't have to. Alone time was time to re-energize, to recuperate from some of all that energy spent on social interactions. When she was alone - truly alone - she let herself feel less than usual. That was nice sometimes, too. Maybe she'd listen to music when she got back inside. Something like-

Her thought process was abruptly interrupted when she suddenly found her face hovering a scant few centimeters off the ground, staring into the dirt. She'd tripped over something. She pushed herself to her feet and looked over her shoulder, and... Oh.

She'd tripped over some*One.* Tears quickly welled up in her eyes as she began to feel the bruises and scratches she'd inflicted on herself. "Sorry!" She tried to force a grin, but it ended up looking more like wincing. Which it was. It hurt.

"Owwww. Are you okay?"
Lynne
Finley, as it could be assumed, was taken off guard as an entire human being suddenly came tumbling over them into the dirt. They cursed in surprise. The girl was straightening herself up, and Finley raised a brow. How she had managed to be blind to them, they didn't really know. Finley wasn't exceptionally short or anything. 



"Fine," They said, climbing up to their feet. "You look worse for the wear. I trust you're not seriously injured, then?"

She didn't look it, anyway. Finley remembered her in vague shifts of memories, something that flickered behind their eyes with an angel with cracked wings and uneasy tremors of the hands. What had been the girl's name? Annika? The one that the faculty had all been too sugary about. 

"Have we met?"
Bryan
Mel turned around, properly, as Finley stood up. They looked... Familiar, somehow, but Mel couldn't quite place it. It was a bit too hazy to really figure anything out. She gazed to her palms. Scraped up, but... Fine. She was fine. Even if it hurt like Hell.

"Just scrapes. I'm fine! Don't worry about it!" She tried to force a smile again. This time, it worked. For a brief moment, she beamed brighter than the winter sun, happy in defiance of her situation.

She felt nothing. Just idle pain.

She looked over Finley again. They looked more and more familiar, and...

She nodded. "Yeah, I think so! You were the one who took me around on a tour, right? All the way back when I first got here. I'm actually not even sure when that was!" She grinned, feeling a little proud of herself for remembering that. She didn't remember the name, but... At least she knew where they'd met before! Right?

— Paused. I can see why this happened and I'm sorry —