Carol wanders into the area, a book in one hand and a bowling bag in 
the other. She sighs, attempting to read and avoid running into 
anything.

Blake is actually up on the roof of Cafe Vachel (dunno if you'd even 
see him) nursing a venti cappuccino and comnsidering a cigarette.

Carol pauses to glance around, shutting the book and placing it inside 
the bowling bag. "Stupid tests...I'd like to tell my professor where he 
can shove this stupid assignment," she mumbles, eyes narrowing 
slightly.

Officers Funk and MacGuire are here, fussing w/ the yellow police lines 
and scribbling in notebooks. MacGuire notices Carol and pauses to 
examine her. "Might want to be careful around here, girlie," he says. 
"Some dangerous activity gone on."

Carol looks at MacGuire and hrms, brushing a strand of hair out of her 
eyes. She grins. "I'll be fine, -sir-." You can almost feel the sarcasm 
in her voice.

MacGuire takes a step towards her. "You know," he says thoughtfully, 
"if you needed an escort...Well, what with all these freaks and weirdos 
running about--" At that very moment a lit cigarrette bounces off his 
hat and a voice shouts from above: "Schorry! I'm trying to quit!"

Carol frowns and starts to reply, but the cigarrette catches her 
attention instead. "Huh?" She looks up, trying to find the person who 
dropped it.

Blake isn't in view, having retreated from the edge of the roof. Funk 
glowers upwards. "We're trying to conduct an investigation down here, 
Rainbow-Brite," he shouts gruffly. "Don't make us haul you in." 
"*Please* don't," grunts MacGuire, returning to his note-taking and 
seemingly forgetting all about Carol.

Carol raises an eyebrow in curiosity as she slowly wanders towards the 
building. oO(Hmm..Rainbow Brite? ok...)Oo She pauses a few feet away 
and looks up, using one hand to shield her eyes as she searches for the 
person the police were talking to. "Hello?"

There is a pause, then: "There'sch poschtcardsch in the schop," comes 
the vague reply. "Unlessch they're out. Again."

Carol blinks, taking a moment to decipher what the person just said. 
"Um..I'm not looking for that. I just wanted to know who's up 
there...."

Blake shouts back: "You heard the geniusch. I'm Rainbow Brite, 
apparently."

Carol holds back a smirk. "Well then. That'll be a story to tell the 
grandkids. I met Rainbow Brite." She tilts her head slightly to the 
left.

Blake suddenly pops into view, brandishing what looks like a finger-
painted rendition of the Milky Way. It's very surreal. "Hey," he 
shouts. "Doesch thisch schuck?"

Carol hmms, then shakes her head. "Nope. It's very...colorful."

Blake turns it around and looks at it. "It schucksch, then," he says, 
and tosses it over the edge and onto the sidewalk where it lands wetly. 
And he vanishes from sight again, muttering.

Carol walks over to the picture and picks it up, then studies it for a 
moment. "No. I like it. Really. Do you take art classes?"

Blake appears again, paint all over his hands and arms. "Take them 
where?"

Carol erms, "At the university, of course." She holds the picture up. 
"Want this back?"

Blake looks at the picture a moment, then back at Carol. "I've never 
been to the universchity," he says. "And no. Colorful ischn't what I'm 
paid to do. I schave it for my free time."

Carol nods and sets the picture down for the moment, then sets the bag 
down next to it. "You should go. They have pretty good art classes." 
She smiles, "What's wrong with colorful?"

Blake raises an eyebrow at Carol's near-all-black wardrobe, then 
ponders her hair briefly. "Good queschtion," he answers at last, then 
disappears from view again.

Carol blinks, pondering over his answer. She then shrugs, "Didn't say -
I- had to be colorful," she states, folding her arms.

Blake calls back, from wherever he had gone, "Well schome of usch 
*do*."

Carol hmms. "Well, good for you colorful people. I'm happy for all of 
you."

Blake says, "Yeah, be schure to catch our Color Pride Parade next 
Wedneschday."

Carol almost laughs at that comment, but luckily common sense (and just 
being unemotional) keeps her from doing so. "Sorry. That's my 'How to 
avoid interacting with other people' meeting night."

There is another pause, then Blake slowly comes into view again, 
looking amused. "A meeting of antischoschial people? Ischn't that 
againscht the Lawsch of Physchicsh or schomething?"

Carol grins and nods. "Yep. It's our goal to hopefully cause a black 
hole and suck the world into it."

Blake nods slowly. "Juscht remember to reschycle."

Carol runs her fingers through her bangs and hmms. "Oh, all right..."

Blake looks at Carol's hair for a moment more, then punches the air and 
vanishes from sight again. "*Green* and black!" he says. "Good idea."

Carol blinks, a confused look spreading across her face. "Um...huh? I 
may not be blond, but I think you just lost me with that comment."

Blake calls back, "Well I've already *done* red and black...and blue 
and black...and yellow and black...Hadn't tried green yet...Thesche 
people are scho *picky*."

Carol chuckles, "What people?" She glances down at the bag and gives it 
a slight kick. "Hush."

Blake calls back distractedly, "The onesch who hired me to deschign 
their poschtcardsch and notebooks and overprisched travel mugsch and 
whatever elsche they schell in here to go with their mediocre coffe."

Carol ahs and nods. "Interesting." She kicks the bag again and hisses, 
"Shut up before I stop taking you for walks! Do you want me to leave 
you at home, huh? Do you?!"

Blake appears at the edge again, black and green paint halfway up his 
arms. "Come again?"

Carol blinks and looks up, not realizing that Blake heard her. "Oh, 
nothing!"

Blake mutters slowly, "Of...corsche," and vanishes again.
Carol sits down on the sidewalk, glancing over at the bag and frowning 
at it.

Officer Funk comes strolling around the corner, glancing uneasily up at 
the roof as he goes. He's almost on top of Carol before he sees her 
sitting there. "You're obstructing a public walkway, you know that, 
dont you missy?" he inquires.

Carol looks at Funk for a minute, then shrugs. "Yeah. So?"

Funk leans a bit closer, "So, you could remove yourself, or I could 
write you a ticket. It's all up to you--Hey!" he yells as an empty 
venti cappuccino cup bounces off of his hat. "What's wrong with you 
freak?" he roars at the roof. On cue, Blake appears. "Oh, schorry," he 
says. "I thought you were a reschycling bin."

Carol does laugh at Blake's comment this time, reaching for her bowling 
bag. "I would move, sir, but then I would have to disturb my father who 
is quite happy where he is at the moment."

Funk just continues to glare at Blake, who is completely impassive. 
"I'm gonna get you off the street for good someday," he growls, then he 
turns back to look down at Carol. "Well bully for him," he spits, not 
making any connection with the bowling bag. "Lucky for all three of you 
I'm at the end of a long shift and I have better things to do than 
spend a day at the circus." And with that he stalks off.

Carol watches the cop wander off, muttering a few choice words in his 
direction. "Cops...gotta hate 'em." She glances at the bag and nods, "I 
agree. But what can I do? Oh, don't start -that- again..."

Blake lingers at the edge of the roof for a bit. "I really *did* think 
he wasch the reschycle bin," he confesses. "He'sch the right schape and 
all." His eyes wander to the bowling bag, but then he thinks better of 
commenting and pulls himself back out of view.

Carol hrms and glances up once more, curiosity starting to eat away at 
her nerves. "True...point taken." She pauses, "Um..who -are- you? I 
mean, I haven't even gotten a name. You're like a hermit or something, 
except you don't like in a cave and eat dirt. At least, I hope not..."

Blake appears again after a more lengthy pause this time. "I haven't 
heard that one before," he says. "The 'I hope not' part, that isch."
Carol smiles for all of three seconds. "Well, now you have. What's your 
name?" She hmms and nudges the bag with her elbow. "I'm Carol."

Blake almost looks suspicious for a moment, but the expression passes. 
"Um, I'm Blake. Doesch that bag you keep talking to have a name? Might 
asch well go full schircle."

Carol hrms and smirks, resting her hands in her lap. "Nice to meet you, 
Blake. As for the bag...um...yeah, he has a name." She glances at the 
bag, "Oh, -excuse- me. It's not the bag that has the name. It's what's 
inside of it."

Blake just tries to appear as impassive as he was with Officer Funk. 
"Well clothesch aren't everything," he responds lamely.

Carol raises an eyebrow. "Kinda hard for him to wear clothes, though." 
She reaches over and unzips the bag, lifting what appears to be a clear 
bowling ball out of it. Oh, why looky there. There's a skull inside the 
bowling ball! How...nice.

Blake suddenly looks interested. "Hey that'sch cool!" he exclaims. 
"Isch it real?"

Carol grins and nods. "Yep." She holds it up a bit, "Blake, meet 
Carmine. Dad, this is Blake."

Blake boggles at the ball, then glances around as if to make sure noone 
is watching. Which is pointless as the streets are crowded and there is 
a chick with a skull on the sidewalk talking to a guy up on a roof 
covered in paint. "That'sch your *dad'sch* schkull?? Do you have a 
permit for that?"

Carol blinks and carefully puts the ball into its bag. "Yeah, it's my 
dad's skull. Who's else would it be?" She nods at the ball and looks 
back up to Blake. "I need a permit? Hmm. Never knew that."

Blake shrugs. "Well I don't know," he admits. "But it juscht scheems 
you need a permit to do anything intereschting around here."

Carol smiles, perhaps even a bit wickedly. "What they don't know won't 
hurt 'em."

Blake nods wisely. "Unlessch you can catch them offguard," he adds.
Carol chuckles, rising off of the sidewalk and dusting off her clothes. 
"Yeah..." She picks up the bag and the picture. "Sure you don't want 
this back? I'm guessing you worked pretty hard on it."

Blake glances at it. "Nah," he says. "It'sch not really art unlessch 
you can massch-produsche it. According to my paychecksch."

Carol smirks and nods, carefully folding it up and putting it inside 
the bag. "All right. I'll take it then. I could use something to 
brighten up my place."

Blake nods. "Although the schkull ball is pretty cool. Don't think 
anything can top that."

Carol shakes her head, laughing quietly, and begins to walk off. "Well, 
gotta go feed my cat. If I don't, he'll try and kill me in my sleep." 
She waves, "Nice talking with you."

Blake waves back. "Yeah," he says. "Thanksch for the black and green 
schuggeschtion, that you schort of made, kind of." He vanishes from 
view again.

Carol grins and heads off, to go feed said cat.