Controversy [BH - Piet and Kitty]

Midsummer, one of Kitty's favorite times and yet sadest. Before long the days will start getting shorter and the nights longer and she'll have to bury herself in multiple layers of clothes. She didn't want to waste a second of the soon to be fleeting summer indoors and she found herself in a place she didn't go too often: the vineyard. The grapes were still growing on the trees to be ready for their fate, to turn into different kinds of wines over an extended period of time. The brunette wandered down the rows of the trees and decided to turn back, no one was here and it didn't feel right that she was spending the beautiful day by herself.

"The desert. Saudi Arabia. That god-awful armpit of a youth hostel in Sweden. Oh, mijn God, het doet er niet toe!"

It was hot. It was really, really hot. The kind of weather that made one want to curl up in a ball and reverse-hibernate, or, perhaps easier, strip down and throw oneself into the nearest lake. Piet, walking along the roads of this strange new town (trying to acquaint himself - this was somewhat of a custom of his), was naming all the places that he would rather be. And, of course, none of them were too pleasant.

"Ach, of course I would end up in the place where God points the sun's harshest rays," he grumbled to himself. "And of course it is the middle of summer. And, to make matters even worse, I have yet to see even another soul! Is this a ghost town? That would be just my luck." He scoffed and kicked a rock down the middle of the path. "Stranded, without money," he paused to pat his empty pockets, perhaps to assure himself that he was, in fact, broke, "and not a soul to commiserate with. If there is a God in heaven, he will at least provide me with a cold beer. Or a girl. Either one."

As if by a miracle, both of his wishes were granted at the same time. A winery came into sight, preparing for the next season's grape harvest. And there, among the vines, a girl with dark hair and her back turned to him stood. He grinned, and decided which language to call out to her in. Italian, he decided. Girls love Italian.

"Buongiorno!" he called, waving and plastering on the best grin he could muster. He started to approach.

Foreign words slipped into Kitty's ears as she was walking, immediatly she turned to see a guy with sloppy light brown hair smiling at her. Bewildered she took a step towards the man, "I don't speak, ummm... italien." It was italien, wasn't it? He accented the words to sound like so, but then again he could be italien and was trying to say something in some other language. Something did seem oddly friendly about this guy, but he might just want to start a conversation. If she was bored to death, then someone else might be as well.

Piet smirked. "You are correct," he agreed, nodding his head. "It is Italian. But I, alas, am not. I am Piet." He finally got near her, close enough to see her features. It didn't take a scientist, luckily for him, to see the fire in this girl's eyes. Oh, no. She would not swoon over him.

Not easily, anyways.

He smiled. Challenges were always good. And in that moment, he was determined to win this girl over.

"No, unfortunately, I am not from the romantic country of Italy. I am Dutch. Blij u te ontmoeten." He paused, looking at the dark-haired girl who was staring back at him like he had something on his face. He brushed a hand through his hair and let it fall to his side again. "And you are?" he asked easily. "I promise, no more Italian or Dutch," he grinned, waving his hands. "English only."

It was easy to tell that Piet was a smooth talker. This could turn out to be a headache for her; it might be a good idea to get him to realize that she isn't interesteded to swoon over him like some brainless weak-hearted girl. "Oh, is that so," she said trying not to sound uninterested in the fact that he was foreign. It was hard not to though, because of her love to travel though.

"Kitty," she replied to his suave question as she stuffed her hands in her jean pockets. Maybe it was time to say something that shocked most males she met. Her proffesion or 'pride and joy' as she put it. Most guys then would be wide-eyed and get that blank look on their faces. "I'm a blacksmith," she said picking at her fingernails with her thumb nail.

Her attempt to impress him was both cute and noted by him. She looked defiant, like she knew of his intentions and was going to turn and laugh in his face. The smile on his face got bigger. "A Blacksmith, eh? But can you get into the Swiss Guard, huh?" He laughed at his own joke. "I'm kidding, of course. You're a very pretty girl, and besides, I'm fairly certain that the Vatican wouldn't like that very much." Piet winked. "In Spain, I met a female conquistador. Very lively lady, until she broke her leg, collarbone, and tibia in an unfortunate accident." He ducked his head and clicked his tongue sadly.

"Blacksmith is probably safer. I, myself, am a connoisseur of fine wine." He grinned and reached over to the vine. "And I must say, these particular vines look rather viable. I look forward to next season's harvest. A little boost to the economy, eh? Not that I have much money to give." He chuckled.

Well, the blacksmith thing didn't go to well for Kitty. The guy seemed to actually be amused by her rebelious nature towards his actions. In a world of competition she'd be losing to this guy, now what was she going to respond with. On top of that he complimented her too, darn he was good. He even added a side story about a lively person he met before. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and smiled when he announced his proffesion. "Everybody loves a good wine," she said. "I know I do, but nothing beats a hard liquor."

Piet shrugged. "Eh, I'm not picky." He gestured with his hands. "Hard liquor, cocktails, martinis, beer, hard lemonade, pretty much anything. Of course, I do not need the alcohol to be fun at a party," he laughed. "I'd have to say my favorite is the Campari. Of course, it is Italian, just like so many of the things I love. 'I have been born in the wrong country!' I used to tell my mama. The Netherlands, of course they have liquor too, but cannot compete with Italy. No one can compete with Italy!"

Suddenly, a breeze inched through. The leaves in the vineyard rustled like paper, telling secrets and weaving tales, just like Piet liked to. "If you listen closely, you might just hear the tales the plants have to tell," he told the girl - Kitty, she said her name was, how odd. "'Ah, what good a story is one from a plant?' you may say. But what else do you know grows from the ground up? Without limbs to support it, of course. And whispered trysts in gardens...well, they see it all." He smiled. "It's very hot today," he said, just as randomly as the breeze that had whispered through. "The wind is nice, but still not quite cool enough."

Even though Piet was suave and somewhat annoying he was interesting. Interesting enough to hold Kitty's attention in his hands. She hated this, but she couldn't help it. Afterall, it wasn't everyday you heard someone talk about the differences in Italian acohol and Dutch acohol, but why would he complain about it to his mother of all people. The story seemed off, as if he was streaching the truth or plain out lying.

The next thing she knew he was now talking about stories coming from plants. To her amusement he actually guessed something right, but then again she didn't really care about plants. A flower garden did look nice and so did the vineyard, but they both were time consuming tasks that she didn't have the time for anymore. All she really cared about was the fact that he was a complete chatter box. "Don't complain," she said in defense of the weather. "Summer is the best time of the year and it's perfect out."

Piet feigned a heart attack. "Oh, your words. Worse than a dagger to the heart," he said, pressing the back of his hand to his head. "What kind of person wishes for stifling heat and blisters from the sun? Oh no, not me. Not Piet. Fall is much better. Grapes are ripe for stomping. Nice, cool weather. My birthday," he laughed. "Ah, getting older, always something to celebrate, nee? This year I will be, oh, what, 26? And I am still young. Younger than most children of about ten years old!" He chuckled again; Piet was known to chuckle a lot. It was true; he was immature. But that was because he chose to be so. If he wanted to, he could be responsible. But he was already growing older; did his mental half have to catch up with his physical half? "Ah, but children do not know the wonders of wine. And so I have the advantage there, I'd say." He grinned.

"So, Miss Kitty," he continued, leaning lazily against the nearby fence post, "what is a lovely girl like you doing out here in the heat, where a flower so easily withers? Come on, lead the way to the nearest air-conditioned restaurant. I'd offer to buy you a drink, but I have no money!" He rolled his eyes. "Do not most places offer free water, though? Ah, paying for water! Imagine!"

It was hard to believe that he was older than her. The way he talked was that of naive teenager who thought they knew everything. "Fall is too cold," she commented coldly hoping he'd pretend to faint again, it was impossible for someone like her not to enjoy something like that. Part of her couldn't help feeling envious, she hated winter and when did her birthday have to be? Winter. The very thought made her shutter.

He was so smooth, if only he dressed more the part. His shirt was in desperate need of some starch and ironing. "Okay, okay," she said to his resturant offer although it seemed more like a request. "I'll lead you to a new resturant that's now opened, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stay. Oh, and for you're other question: I have nothing better to do so why not explore the vineyard?"

Piet shook his head. "Oh, no, my dear," he shook his finger at her. "Fall is the perfect weather. Not too cold, if you go to the right places. And I am always in the right places. Except when I am not," he sighed, "like now, for instance. I did not mean to come here and burden the pretty girls with my presence. Oh, no, it was not my fault in the least. I was robbed by a crooked salesman on my last journey and could only afford to come here." He shook his head sadly. Actually, he had made a bad business deal and lost all of his money to a blackjack dealer who cheated him.

"Ah, after you," he said, motioning for her to lead him with a smirk on his face. "And, believe me, I will be back at the vineyard before too long. There is plenty of time to visit again. But now, I am thirsty. Blame your favorite season; the sun steals the water from my poor dehydrated cells."

What was she getting into now? Certainly a weird situation if not a troublesome one. He protested saying that fall was the best and she didn't want to argue with him anymore about something a trival as the seasons. Piet was an airhead that seemed to create fabricated stories if anything at all, but he was good at it which made the difference. Most people can't tell a good lie to save their life, but in a since his were pure poetry.

"That's too bad," she said refraining from showing emotion. He probably blew it off at the slots afterall. She started down the path towards the resturant and sighed quietly. "It's this way," she muttered, already regretting her descision.

(Do you want to start the next topic or me?)

[Would you mind? I'm not sure which place you had in mind. ]

[Okay South Carolina, here. =D]