We'll Always Have Italy (reserved)

[Skye Malizia]

(Eve Melona, or Noah, or Draco)

She was driving through an expensive neighbourhood in her cozy Hamann Fiat 500. Christmas was a beautiful thing, and after hearing about her 'near-death' experience while walking back to the school one frigid afternoon, Skye's family had splurged on getting her a more comfortable means of transportation. She felt a little guilty for having stretched the truth, but the more she breathed in the smell of her new car, the less important that fact seemed.

Not disguising her intentions, the little Italian girl in her little Italian car loitered in front of each of the beautiful houses. She was nearing a grand apartment building with luxury balconies (mostly covered in snow) when she came across an expected red light. She had no problem holding up traffic on her own time, but when traffic held her up, she became inexplicably impatient and found it difficult to appreciate what she'd been admiring just moments ago. Nudging the gas pedal and pumping the brakes amidst an annoyed sigh, the barely licensed teenager rolled her head back on the leather upholstery. When the light turned green, she stomped down on the accelerator and -

Nothing happened. Her wheels turned but her car didn't move. She pushed the pedal again only to be met with the same result. After four more tries and each ammounting to no avail, Skye shut off the engine and put on her emergency lights. While a car navigated around her, she measured up what she'd have to do. Unfortunately her car didn't come complete with a compact shovel.

So she started stomping the snow around her front tires, trying to stamp it down. It was a long and draining project, but she was determined to get her brand new vehicle out of this mess. Grunting and cursing ("Cazzata!" "Merda!") and stomping away, Skye was soon one very sweaty seventeen year-old.

Leaning back on the hood of her yellow lovemobile, and wiping a sleeve across her shiny brow, she had one tire completely free. Three more to go.

This was one grueling work-out she had not been prepared for this morning.

[Eve Melona !]

Eve Melona was not reckless, she had just been born with a sense of adventure, she was not a good Samaritan, just a good person, and she wasn't driving a Mustang, but her brother's 1969 Shelby GT-350 Mustang with a 440 engine and brand new tires. The impression that she was reckless came simply because she drove like a maniac, pushing eighty five as she sped down the neighborhood rood, her engine growling as she turned a corner, tries squealing until she straightened out, flying through the stop light and past Skye with her radio blaring something the sounded suspiciously like AC/DC.

The idea the Eve was a good Sam, came from the fact that she had never met Skye Malizia before, in fact, she'd never even laid eyes on the girl, but still, as she sped past the stranded girl in all her Dukes of Hazzard glory, she already had it in her mind that she was going to stop and help the other girl out. Taking her foot off the gas as she reached the end of the road, Eve spun around, taking advantage of the wide road as she turned, facing back the way she came now. Heading for Skye, the pretty Italian slowed down, pulling up on the opposite curb and turning off the car, already missing the comforting purr of it's engine as she stepped out of the vehicle.

"Need a hand?" Eve raised up her own appendages, wiggling her fingers with a brilliant smile as she approached the other girl, no sign of tentativeness. Eve had never seen the distinction between strangers and friends, and it certainly wasn't as if she wasn't capable of taking care of herself in case she ran into the wrong sort of stranger; but grinning over at Skye, Eve was fairly certain this girl wasn't some sort of backwater pedophile or violent thug, in fact, she looked all sorts of harmless - not to mention helpless.

[Skye Malizia]

The car she had been muttering dark words to had returned, and Skye narrowed her eyes as the driver's door opened. But instead of some balding, middle-aged man who thought he was too cool for school, there was a pretty young lady who looked a year or two older than her. Well, that was a surprise! And, that she was offering her help was even more shocking. Americans had never struck Skye as the very compassionate sort.

Need a hand? Skye laughed, the hysteria leaking into the sound.

"I might need your foot," She was trying to laugh her panic away. She had tried to stay calm before, but knowing that someone else thought she was in enough trouble to help her out made her more anxious. What would she tell her parents. 'Sorry, but I got the car stuck?' - she couldn't see that conversation going over well.

"The snow is too deep," Skye explained, stomping down some more snow around the tire she'd just freed, to snow how she intended on releasing her poor Fiat, "America does not like me." Again, trying to joke away her concern. Her anxiety was poorly concealed by her eyes.