<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6a/MapleSophomorePortrait.png)</div><strong>Character</strong>: Maple MacAlistair<br/><strong>Who:</strong>Ken<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Photography classroom<br/><strong>When:</strong>Sophomore year<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Clicky link! (http://www.polyvore.com/strawberry_milkshake/set?id=217949624) Jeans, a pink tanktop, and an army surplus jacket<br/><hr/><br/>Maple is still seated, scribbling away in her notebook as the rest of the class floods out of the room and Ken approaches. Notes on aperture size and focal length take up about a third of the page, while the rest is filled with...doodles of tiny winged penises (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fascinus)? She's almost done filling up the last little bit of empty space in the bottom corner of the page when he speaks and she hastily closes the notebook, flashing him a sheepish grin.<br/><br/>"Oh! Um, hi Ken," she says as she starts to stow her notebook and assorted writing implements in her bag. She's come out of her shell quite a lot since Freshman year, but every so often Maple still gives off the air of something small and fuzzy that's about to be snatched up but a large number of big, sharp teeth. "Sure? I mean, I can probably make time. Depends on how much you need I suppose. What were you wanting help with?"