<span style="color: #BF4040"><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">Soo Lin sucked her cheek nervously, checking that her suitcases weren't a bother to her, or more importantly, her new seat mate. Soo Lin compared the fair-skinned girl to a guest in her home; hospitality was key. The rule for taking off your shoes was out, unlike how she would greet a house guest. The floor on the bus wasn't exactly clean, being a grimy brown and having the consistancy of a mud mat for your car. Soo Lin thought she spotted a dried up cheese puff underneath the seat in front of her, likely from the Jurrasic period. Finally satisfied with the way she had organized the suitcases,  she looked up at the girl, her mouth creased on the verge of a frown, round, dog-like eyebrows curled up, expressing the slight hint of worried thought in her mind.  If she had said something wrong already, that would be a record for her. Short conversations Soo Lin had a handle on, but longer ones didn't come as naturally to her as they did for some people. <br/><br/>"That's quite all right," a good start from the girl, quite positive. Soo Lin knew that some people became offended when she didn't know their name. People, as her mother said, 'who always have a thorn in their paw'. Uptight people who complained that their signature Spicy Radish Soup was too spicy. If they couldn't read the menu right, they weren't worth serving, in her family's opinion. She was quite glad the girl, who revealed her name to be Anastasia, wasn't one of those people, who were surely annoying to sit next to on a long trip. Many a car trip in her family had ended with the vehicle being pulled over and Ming Wa, Soo Lin's youngest sister, given a harsh scolding for her complaning. Not the fondest memory Soo Lin had of her family, but it was part of their history nonetheless.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Anastasia. A pretty name, like I thought she'd have.</span> Soo Lin was once again overcome with the itch to draw a profile of Anastasia, but the request was, again, too strange to ask someone you had just met. Maybe, if she worked hard to become friends with her on this bus ride.<br/>Soo Lin prefered drawing in the style of manga, but she dabbled in realism as well. Anastasia was definitely worth a realism piece, her high fair cheekbones unable to translate properly in a manga-styled piece.<br/><br/>Soo Lin regurgitated the standard answer for when you are asked for your name. "I'm Soo Lin," she said brain whirring with alternate ways she could have said it. <span style="font-style: italic"> Anastasia said her last name. Maybe I should too? But it's too late now. Should I shake her hand?</span> Soo Lin's hands remained fixed in her lap in answer to her last question, gracefully tucked over one another. Her back, if indeed checked, would be squaee wih the seat, as it always was. When she sat it was wih posture and grace, unlike when she stood and her shoulders sloped inwards, her knees too close together. Her mother had taught her to sit properly at a young age, telling her it would give her less back problems in the future and make her look more confident. <span style="font-style: italic">More confident if I don't open my mouth,</span> she thought ruefully, glancing out the window to the grounds.<br/><br/>The sun was beginning to rise, just barely peeking over frost-covered hills, the silhouette broken by the various brick buildigs that made up Ambrosia Academy. A light frost clung to window, Soo Lin's breah creating a screen of precipitation over her view, giving it a watery tint. This was somrthing that could spark a conversation, the weather.<br/>Soo Lin shuffled her feet, pressing her chin into the tall lip of her light blue parka, one hand ruffling her messy, feathery black hair. "It's cold out today, eh?" There was a pause before Soo Lin's cheeks turned pink at the obvious Canadian-ism that slipped from her lips. It was a natural thing to say for her, but some people had already pointed it out to her over the past week and had laughed, not at her expense Soo Lin knew, but it still seemed a little degrading when they began mentioning obvious Canadian steriotypes. Her body was half turned to the window, but her dark, glittering eyes rested in the corner of its view, glancing over to Anastasia sheepishly. </span></span>