A meeting to be remembered

Lindia's eyes darted around. People were walking past her without really seeing her, she belonged to the background of the city they all tried to ignore: people like her who lived on the streets, had dirty clothes with tattered hems, and hadn't showered in a couple of days. Ever since she had left for Sonoma, she had become inhabited to the smell of her own sweat -- but other people, all these wealthy stuck-ups who acted as if she was some kind of lamp post or something, their precious noses wrinkled automatically whenever she came near them. They would never know what it's like to live like she did: sleep on the cold pavement, beg, steal food, fight away too curious gangs... These people would never know that life. She hated them. She envied them.
A guy passed her in the buzz of his scooter, stopping a couple of meters from her and getting off, tucking his helmet under his arm. Lindia couldn't believe her luck! She was so close to the location Lupa had given her directions to, so close. Her internal radar was ticking like a time bomb. Not showing any emotion, she walked over to the scooter casually before suddenly stopping to re-tie her shoelaces. Her old backpack hung over her shoulder, carrying the few essentials she had schlepped from Detroit to Sonoma and now from Sonoma to San Francisco. The streets were bursting with activity. Nobody would remember her. All the better.

Slipping a small piece of copper while from her shoe, her pale hands climbed the exterior of the scooter before reaching underneath of its outer shell, her fingers targeting and disconnecting the igniter cap and inserting the wire into one side, not allowing any sign of emotion in her face while she manipulated the cap and the wire, allowing the scooter to be turned on, without the key anywhere need the bike.

Lindia sat down and glared at the other girl. Who did she think she was, with her ludicrous shopping bags and pathetic fashion clothes? If they were out in the streets, she'd beat her up so hard the medics would have to scoop her up the sidewalk with a spoon. The cuffs were leaving painful red marks in her wrists and no matter how she positioned her hands, they always hurt.

She moved her glare to the cop woman. What would she do to her anyway? Send her to juvie? These people didn't even know what she was capable of. If she wanted to, she could set this whole office ablaze. Then the questioning began, or rather this ordeal.

"So what did you want that bike for?"
"I didn't want it! I was just looking at it."
"Yeah, sure. When I look at stuff I always take off the ignition cap to slide a metal wire in," the girl sarcastically said, which made Lindia angry. Well, angrier. Her sweet and innocent voice irritated her so much she would've punched her right there and now if not for these stupid cuffs. "What's your name?" the cop woman asked.
"Isabel Montoya," she grumbled, her eyes darting around briefly before staring at the dark-haired cop. Gods did she have a big nose

"I'm gonna call your parents or your tutor," the cop said, scrolling through a page on her computer -- probably a list of all the Isabel Montoya's in the United States. Lindia glanced back at the other girl and they shared another glare; After a moment of looking through the page on the computer she looked up from the screen to the more respectable young woman. "Can you tell me what you saw exactly?"

It was another hour that Lindia was stuck besides this stuck up rich girl, another hour of idiocy until she was finally relieved of the handcuffs, given her bag back, and allowed to leave the station. The sun was beginning to set past the Golden Gate Bridge to the west and it wouldn't be long until the temperature dropped even lower. As she took a step to the curb, her internal radar began to go off like a bomb again, and she knew that she was close to camp.

She began to walk away, her hand inside of the smelly bag, retrieving a tattered pack of cigarettes and opening it, retrieving one of the sticks left. As she lifted it to her lips she heard the rich girl speak, which had her turn, only slightly to give her an annoyed glance.

"Where are you going?" Laure asked her, crossing her arms while holding the bags she had gotten while out shopping. "That back there? That was called saving your butt" She told the filthy, and pissed blonde.

"I could have handled it myself" She replied sharply, her gaze piercing while her tone was also sharp as she addressed the other girl, the street lights flickering on around them.

"Except you didn't" She pointed out, which only caused Lindia to roll her eyes and turn away again, this time placing the cigarette between her lips and lighting it with the tip of her finger, inhaling. Preparing to just follow her radar, what the girl said next caused her to pause. "So do you need a ride to camp Jupiter, or are you going to find it yourself?"

Laure smirked, fist on her hip. That got her attention.

"Ready to listen to me now? Good. Follow me, my car's down the road."

Spinning around, her skirt flying around her thighs, she stalked away on her heels, her bags swinging at her side. She realized the girl wasn't following and turned around with a frown. She was standing there with a mistrustful expression, so Laure sighed and extended her arm to show her tattoo.

"I'm not a monster. Now come along already."

The demigod looked at the tattoo on the richer girls arm for a moment before debating that indeed this was someone who would help her and wouldnt be a monster. Moving her hand to her pocket she placed them within and smiled lightly at whatever this adventure would be. Slowly she followed the blonde, her hand resting on her lighter within her pocket in case she needed to do something....drastic.