being this young is art

Aithne

High infidelity
Put on your records and regret me

A door nearby opens, bell jingling merrily. It's in far too good a mood for Aithne, who turns to glare at the offending sound. Her glare quickly turns into a look of interest, though, when she takes in the sight of the man exiting what appears to be a bakery, if the smells wafting from the open door are anything to go by. He's taller than her by a head, carrying a rather gaudy umbrella and swathed in a red raincoat. Aithne is immediately jealous; she is ridiculously unprepared in her fine silk shirt and jeans, her feet wrapped in shoes that are far prettier than they are useful. Of course, they aren't so pretty now that they've got mud all over them, but it is what it is.

She might have let the stranger pass her by and gone back to moping about her surroundings, but as he walks along with his umbrella, a sudden spray of droplets ricochet off the material, drenching Aithne further. "Hey!" she protests, shrinking against the building in an effort to avoid most of the sudden downpour. Then, caught somewhere between a snarl and a grin, she adds, "If you're gonna get me all wet, at least buy me dinner first." She might as well try and salvage her day - and her impromptu trip to the Grounds - with a little fun.

I bent the truth too far tonight
I was dancing around, dancing around it