Sylvia Hartcourt, Syl to her friends, was a fairly average girl in many ways, and yet very much -not- in others.  She was built short and slender, though her curves were more generous and soft than the waifish model types.  Her hair was a dark brown, carefully maintained and yet left to hang around her face in soft silky waves.  Her eyes were surprisingly lighter in color, a rich grey that almost hinted at blue, and with the hints of makeup she wore were enhanced rather than overshadowed by a heavy handed attempt at "beauty" She moved easily with the group of students around her, a part of the group but seemingly not an integral figure within the circle.  When she spoke, her tone was soft but audible.<br/><br/>She was definitely not the sorority girl type, almost a little on the "goth" side, but certainly not entirely that either.  If anything she seemed capable of fitting several molds.  She was from a fairly upper middle class family, or rather Father, as her mother had passed away when she was small.  Growing up "daddy's" girl had its advantages, though he was gone now too.  In that way she suited his needs quite well, as she had no family left to speak of.  She had "friends" but no close ones, and while she dated she wasn't in a relationship with anyone at the moment.  Truthfully she found most of the guys around her dis interesting.  They either wanted to get drunk, get laid, or both.  She was interested in something else, though if asked she would never be able to define what that "something" was.<br/><br/>As the conversation topic turned to the man across the street, His wealth, etc, she was intrigued enough to look over.  She had to admit, he was attractive, though he didn't "look" like someone with that kind of money.  An over abundance of arrogance tended to irritate her, and he didn't seem like he was that sort of person, at least not at a glance.  She admonished her friends softly for being "prejudiced" against him because of his money.  she observed that he was "attractive without being an ass about it" as well as "normal enough to drink starshmucks just like the rest of them." and so on.  Ironically she and several of the group were on their way across the street, and thus she was soon moving towards him in a gliding step.<br/><br/>She wore jeans too, a pair that hung low on her hips without being the bare half your ass variety some girls preferred.  She wore sketchers shape ups, which didn't exactly account for her toned figure on their own, but certainly didn't hurt either.  She wore a tank top in deep purple to match, with a light weight hoodie over top but unzipped, the college logo prominent on the garment.  over one slim shoulder she carried a black canvas bag which housed her laptop, a few books, and other odds and ends.