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"YOU'RE A PSYCHOPATH!" Fern declared, her eyes watching the person in front of her carefully. Persie too looked at the person strangely. "What maniac drinks orange juice with the pulp?"
To be quite honest it was a decent question. Only psychopaths would drink that stuff.
"What's wrong with it? It's the exact same thing, isn't it?" The person asked, seeing nothing wrong with his freakish habit. All he'd done was answer the questions they'd asked him, 'what's your favourite drink?', and didn't expect to be attacked. When he absolutely should have been.
Persie sighed as she sat down to clean her boots. They were getting ready for a job and had been passing around questions as they packed and to get to know their team, especially as Sykes & Co had recently hired three new agents. One of those lucky three being her.
"No it isn't actually," she answered, now tying her bootlaces up as she ignored the stare of everyone in the room. She hated speaking up for that very reason. Hated the looks. "The pulp is where all the fibre is located, without it, it's just liquid sugar and a few vitamins." And with that, she finished, packing her belt up with the stuff in her locker, and missing the look of thanks on the boy's face.
He seemed to be the same age as her. But also annoyingly posh, with a real penchant for being the centre of attention. She was worse than Dusty, and the hairball hadn't changed much in the past six years, just got older and wider. Even without Sarah around anymore to feed him three times a day, he still found a way to stay in shape. The shape of a sphere that is. Little scruff-bag wasn't getting any younger, but she didn't speak cat, so she couldn't exactly break the news to him.
"Whatever, you're still a weirdo," Fern added, finally getting ready herself; they were due to leave in five minutes.
Mr Centre of Attention scoffed at that. "Well, this one," he pointed at Persie, looking at the side of her head only to see a mop of brown hair, "agreed with me. So I guess we're both weirdos then, eh?" He was desperately trying to get a reaction from her. But he wouldn't get one.
Fern didn't even give her a chance if she wanted to or not, for she sent him her own scoff in retaliation. "Persie's not a weirdo. She doesn't like that stuff. Just because she said it's better for you doesn't mean she likes it, right?"
She did not want to be involved with this conversation any longer. Why couldn't she just get to work, do her job, and pay her rent? Why did she have to pick the loudest loud mouth there ever was to be her friend when she joined?
