"I have written things down, but as a fictional story, so that people will never think that it is true." she said. "And where we come from, the phrase is said differently. That's interesting. Another difference i have noticed. You see, where I come from, the phrase is to turn in his grave. You may have picked up one of Sir's books. In fact, I am the only one alive today who knows of both of his identities."

"Don't tell me okay?" he said with a whole hearted smile. "I want it to be a suprise, they're the funniest things to me and I'd like to keep some type of humor." he told her wanting an answer but only if he earned it. "I myself could never be a writer, to much thinking and not enough time. But I would love to hear some of your work."

"I'll leave it as a surprise. But I'm guessing you'll hear it someday." she said. "Would you? To me all my work is rubbish as soon as it is written. While it is in my head it is good, and then two seconds later it seems like it is really bad."

"I would hear you work and tell you quiet bluntly what I thought of the whole situation and idea." he told her politely. "It's just my nature."

"And that's good. Because I would rather be told truthfully that I'm bad that untruthfully that I'm good. Though some people I have noticed differ from such opinions." Rhythm twirled her hair, her mind resting on the one topic she did not understand: people.

(I really have written the story you know. My character is telling the truth. But it's not finished yet.)

"Your thinking to much, again." he told her referring to her once again twirling her hair for some odd reason. "Try to relax we aren't on any time limit. Though if you are eager to rush off to another appointment I understand." he told her tucking his chin under his palms and smiling boldly. "You have all the time you need to tell me about your book and whatever else you like. Though I must admit I'm quiet the critic."

((When it's done I would love to hear at least the first chapter.))

"I like critics." she said. "Life is more fun that way." she didn't stop twirling her hair, but halted for a moment. "And what else would I do? I'm used to life at the school being hectic, so this seems really quiet. I get quite bored to be honest. Talking to you is a good cure for that."

(I'll probably show you sometime then)

"You know if you keep thinking and twirling you hair that way you may actually go bald." he told her merely as a joke knowing she wasn't so gullible. "If you get quiet bored may be you should find something to divert your attention for a bit."

"All the things I used to do at the school were relaxing things like doing a jigsaw or rubik's cube. That was to help me not to get caught up in the madness, but now I miss the madness." she said. "And if that were true," she said, laughing. "I would have gone bald ages ago."

"Your really that old huh?" he told her this to combat her wit with his very own though that could last quiet some time given the right circumstances. "But still I don't know how you could miss ages of madness."

"My mind is." she said, laughing. "Well, if there's madness, I always knew I would never be bored. There would always be something there to occupy my time, whether I liked it or not."

"Doesn't seem like your to fond of non maddening situations." he told her so that he would keep on the subject. "I mean I really guess I can't understand something like madness since I try to keep order. They just don't seem to go together."

"Oh I don't know..." she said smiling. "We did have timetabled madness after all. It was very well timetabled too. We always had madness all day." She laughed. "Sometimes even all night, at the weekends."

"I will stick with not a single ounce of madness." he replied eyeing her odd smile. "Maybe you should take me to this mad people you speak of."

"Well, that makes you a first. Almost everybody I know is classed as mad in their own way. And that, of course, includes myself. I'm sure they would love to meet you, though they would seem exeedingly strange at first." she said.