* BALANCE IS KEY -- mimi

[ralphie]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,300,true] There were a few categories of people who rode bicycles everywhere. The first consisted of college students, looking for a way to get across campus faster than if they were to simply walk. Those students had bikes in various states of niceness, normally not the most high-end machines and just designed to travel. The next category was comprised of professional bikers, or at least the types who entered local marathons or whatever else they were referred to as. Those people wore way more spandex than most, and often treated riding like a challenge and a training mechanism. They often opted for bikes that suited their needs, types designed for all sorts of terrain or light-weight frames. The third category didn't necessarily ride for ease or convenience. No, the last category that he considered to exist was the self-righteous people who thought they were saving the planet, or maybe they thought they were saving themselves. They were the types to buy porcelain coffee thermoses or bought organic food. While he had started biking in the first category, he figured he was no longer in one of those. He still drove a car when he needed to. He just rode because he honestly liked it. That was the real reason why he was going to ride to the library, versus grabbing his car keys and making the ride exponentially shorter. He was in dire need of a movie marathon, and honestly, borrowing free books was better than paying to rent them. One of his coworkers had suggested some campy movies from decades previously, and he wasn't about to let down that challenge. Maybe that was another thing that separated him from the rest of the biking stereotypes. He had money, but he didn't feel the need to squander it over stupid things. His car spent most of its time in hibernation, and was used only enough to keep it in fine working order. So, when he was going somewhere that wasn't too far, he broke out his trusty steed. He rode it to work almost every day, he was certain he could handle the library. He just had to muster up the energy and motivation to remove himself from his apartment. He was situated on the couch, not really paying attention to the news that was rolling across the television screen. He didn't want to watch this. What he really wanted to watch was a good several hours worth of shitty movies. It took some time before he finally managed to pry himself off of the upholstery, releasing a sigh. A half-empty mug of cold coffee was held in his hand as he moved to the kitchen, downing the rest quickly before going to pull out his bike. He was lucky that he had changed as soon as getting home from work; otherwise it wouldn't have been worth it to ride in the dress pants and button-down shirt. He slipped on a pair of athletic shoes before dragging his bike out, making one last check to see if he had everything before stepping out of his apartment. He locked the door quickly, before shoving his key in his pocket. He ran a hand through his hair as he moved to the elevator and pushed the button to call it. When the doors slid open, he was inwardly thankful that it was empty. It certainly would have been awkward if he had squished on with his bike and a few other tenants. Not long after, he was outside, prepped and ready to be on his merry way. The entire thought of riding was enough to boost his mood, to motivate him to actually get going versus lazing around inside all evening. Even if he couldn't find the movies, it would be worth it. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he swung his leg over to push off. He gained some momentum as he propelled himself forward. No, it was unlikely that he fit into the three categories of bike riding. He wasn't competitive. He didn't just need a fast way to cut through town. Even though he believed himself to be cool, he didn't ride to make himself look cool. The bike picked up speed quickly before he turned a corner. It probably wasn't the best idea to whip around the bend, and that became painfully obvious when he realized there was someone on the other side. "Jesus Christ!" His hands gripped at the breaks as he jerked the handlebars in some direction that wasn't facing her. It was a jarring experience as he lost his balance, the bike moving in an erratic arc before it pitched to the ground. He managed to catch himself on one of his feet, but it certainly could have been a smoother landing. "Sorry about that. You know, you really should have been watching where you were going." Though it was likely entirely his fault, he still wasn't about to pin the blame on himself. His voice dripped sarcasm as he moved off his vehicle to inspect for any damage. No, Ralphie Dillinger would never admit that maybe he couldn't ride a bike worth crap.

[mimiriter]

Mimi found Fridays to be obnoxious. Sure, it meant the end of another work week and another step closer to three month’s worth of a break, but the dragging hours until three o’clock always pissed her off. But of course she could never just leave at three- no, there was always something that kept her there later. Sometimes, it was a student who seriously didn’t understand foreign languages. Other times (though not lately), it was Marco, unable to hold himself until their next arranged meeting time. Other times, it was grading. But some days, such as today, it was her sheer unwillingness to uproot herself from her chair to make the journey to her car. She wasn’t too sure what held her there. Most of the time she just sat and contemplated the various woes of her life, because if anyone was going to win the award for “best pity party”, God damnit, it would be her. At least she was good at something.

It was about four thirty when she finally spilled out of the school building, nodding to the various lingering students and teachers she passed along the way. She scowled at the sunlight (why did the world look so damn happy?) and pushed her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose, swinging the lanyard that held her keys around her wrist. She wasn’t a fan of driving, but that seemed more of a necessary aspect of life in Capeside than it had been in New York. She’d often been told that she had massive road rage, which was perfectly plausible given her pretty bad temper. At any rate, she hated other drivers and she had about as many speeding tickets as she did restraining orders (in her defense, when she had been a journalist, she had taken that career pretty seriously).

Still, she’d made it to her apartment complex, only having to give one bastard the middle finger, which she viewed as an accomplishment. Mimi grabbed her things out of the back of her car and decided to grab the mail before heading upstairs, since she knew she’d probably be too lazy to do so later on. She was two meters from the mailboxes when a bike rounded the corner, swerving just before hitting her. Her eyes widened and she hopped in the opposite direction, watching as the bike skidded to the stop and the rider dismounting.

Her arms folded over her chest as he approached her, before raising both eyebrows in an incredulous manner at his words. She began to say Twat, what the fuck, but at that moment a family with a kid walked by and she managed to cover it up with, ”Toast, what the French?” Her jaw clenched and she looked up at him, under the impression that he was the largest idiot she ever had the misfortune of encountering. When the family passed, she huffed and shook her head. ”Seriously, learn to ride a bike, you bitch.” It was ridiculous, the size difference, but she also couldn’t bring herself to notice- she was used to people towering over her. No, she was just too pissed off. Who was this guy, anyways? Blaming the entire thing on her. Jerkoff. ”I’ll key your damn bike. If you seriously couldn’t see me, maybe you need glasses.”

ooc note: ashley apologizes for the wait and the sucky post.

[ralphie]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,300,true] He wasn't really expecting the woman to be a spit-fire. Of course, running into someone hadn't been one of his expectations, either. She wasn't too thrilled with what had just happened, and he could easily say that the opposite sort of thing was happening. He couldn't really blame her. Who the hell liked to almost get hit with a bike? (He forced the answer of 'sadomasochists' from his mind, refusing to acknowledge that part of his thought process.) Ralphie was practically staring at her as her temper flared. He had expected some sort of dumbfounded explanation as to why they almost collided, or maybe some sort of timid apology. When something like that happened, sometimes it was possible for the other person to think they were both at fault. It didn't take long before he realized that, no, she was not one of those people. She was obviously unhappy, and she wasn't going to be one to assume it was her fault. His brows rose as he continued to watch her. Who was this chick? He was barely left any time to figure it out, but he knew that she probably lived in the same apartment complex. He was, however, certain that he had never met her. When she raised her voice, there was absolutely no way he could take it seriously. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see some people walking past, but failed to make the connection. He burst out into a fit of laughter, his hands finding his pockets with his bike resting against the side of his leg. He shook his head slightly, the smirk still firmly in place. "Excuse me? What was that?" His eyes drifted upward as his shoulders shook with more silent laughter. "Wow." There was no way to deny the sarcasm in his voice, that arrogant attitude that leeched in. A smile still tugged at his lips, self-satisfied and amused, and his brows rose. This was far more entertaining to him than it should have been. She was genuinely pissed off at him. Certainly, he didn't think that he would be bickering with some random woman on his way to the library. He figured that by this time, he'd probably be a third of the way there, tearing up the pavement. The smirk wasn't going to last. The amused smile soon gained an edge, faltering slightly as he winced. Ouch. This was also something he wasn't expecting, he had just wanted to go rent some crappy movies. "I know how to ride a bike, thank you very much." His tone had turned icy in a moment, his eyes narrowed. "Woah, woah, woah, chick. What did I really do to you?" Ralphie held up his hands, almost in a surrender motion. He wasn't really backing down, but he didn't really like the blow to his ego. It wasn't enough for him to completely give up and apologize, but he was wounded. "I mean, it's not like I actually hit you. I missed, otherwise I'd be trying to kiss your ass so I didn't get charged for a hit-and-run or something ridiculous like that." His voice was probably a bit louder than it should have been. He knew how to be civilized and agreeable, but this was not really his day. The semi-professional side to Ralphie Dillinger was not likely to appear. Of course, the angry outer shell was also not going to last. When she continued to fume at him, he glanced down at her, eyes wide. Was she going to hit him or something? He wouldn't have been surprised. Had she not opened her mouth, he probably would have been contemplating how attractive she was and if she was single. A part of him was still considering it now, but he tried to keep that discrete before he reached up to fold his arms across his torso. His lips curled into a slight smirk. Ralphie shook his head slightly. "Sorry, sweetheart, we aren't exactly the same height." He paused, snorting slightly. A chuckle left him as he shook his head at the brunette woman. Making jokes was probably not the best way to diffuse tension, but he couldn't help it. "You're going to key my bike? You're not going to try and take it apart, or slash my tires, or something that would actually prevent me from riding it anymore? What kind of vandal are you?"