A/N: I've finally got some time to focus on my stories and, looking over Accent, I'm not completely happy with it. So, I'm going to go chapter by chapter and tweak some things here, fix or change some things there. Just try and improve the overall quality. I'm not making any changes to the plot or anything, so don't worry about that. This is just something I feel I must do before continuing with the story. Hopefully, it won't take too long, but all my faithful readers know how I get...distracted and forgetful. (Sorry about that, by the way. I do try.)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and anything else recognizable does *not* belong to me. Trace Peterson, Todd Smith, Aunt Clarice, and any other OCs that may appear do. I am not making any profits off this story, otherwise I would not be a broke college student.
Accent
Prologue
A young Welsh boy's hazel eyes widened as his body was slammed into a brick wall.
"What did you say to me, punk?" came a strong female voice with an American accent. It belonged to a beautiful girl with short, slightly curled brown locks, clear blue eyes, and a slightly cleft chin. She stood tall at 5'11" and was very strong.
Dressed in crisp blue jeans, a light blue t-shirt, and a black leather jacket, she appeared to be a pretty ordinary teenager. But the truth was that she was far from it.
The boy managed to squeak out, "Nothing," before being shoved painfully to the ground. His shaggy brown hair fell into his eyes, obstructing his view of the pissed-off girl. As he hurriedly pushed it away, he noticed a boot next to him before hands shot down to force him back up.
"Wanna try again?" the girl sneered, pulling her prey so close their noses were practically touching.
"Uh, uh," the boy stuttered fearfully, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I won't make fun of your accent again, I promise!"
She looked ready to fling him aside when a steely voice behind them asked, "Miss Peterson, what are you doing to Mister Smith?"
The girl, Trace Peterson, hurriedly let go of the boy. Todd Smith pretended to brush off his pants while regaining control of his body, which had been shaking, before straightening up, saying in a slightly wavering voice, "We were just getting to know each other, Mr. Cooper."
The man in question continued to glare at the two. Thinking quickly, Trace stepped forward. "Mr. Cooper, I'm afraid there was a small misunderstanding between us. You see, Todd here had made a small comment about my American accent, and I mistook it as a put-down.
"But now everything has been straightened out here, and Todd and I are the best of friends. I thank you, though, for taking such a strong interest in the well-being of your students."
Trace had easily thrown her arm around the confused-looking 6' boy before giving a mega-watt smile that always threw people off.
Mr. Cooper, who felt a bit confused himself at what just happened, simply nodded before walking off.
As soon as the man was out of sight, the girl tightened her grip on Todd's shoulder before asking sarcastically, "Now where did we leave off? Oh, yeah."