It's a new story! Vince sits down and talks to Orwell after the whole Gregor incident, especially curious as to if Julia is her real name.

I own nothing.

Ignorance

Vince handed his partner a mug of coffee, secretly hoping that he could warm her up to him long enough to get some answers. He had found out some pretty interesting things about Orwell as of late, but he had no idea what was true and what was bogus. Like, for instance, her name. She had told the carnival it was Julia. The vigilante highly doubted that this was her real name, since she wouldn't even tell him what it was. If she hadn't wanted to answer that question, then she shouldn't have gone with Rollo in the first place. She was pretty good at coming up with names at the drop of a hat, though.

"Okay, what do you want?" Orwell finally asked her partner. She sounded impatient and her expression was as blank as ever.

He just sighed and asked, "is Julia your real name?"

The blogger glanced over at her partner, lips over the brim of her mug. "Did you honestly think that I would tell your friends my real name, and not tell you?"

"No, but I also didn't think that you would expose yourself to anyone that could find out who you are," Vince told her, an easy smile growing on his face.

"Vince, you've learned far too much about me already. I'm a private person, which means that I come to you when I'm good and ready. Right now, can you just stick to calling me Orwell?" She asked, finally taking a sip of her coffee.

The vigilante began chuckling. It was a very light laugh, but it was still there. He wasn't really sure why he was laughing, though. Probably because he wasn't getting anywhere with her, even if he didn't expect to. "Am I ever going to get a straight answer from you?"

"Wait in line," Orwell told him, smiling back at him just the same.

"Don't you think that you should give me a little more credit than this? It's not like I'm going to be running around telling your deepest, darkest secrets," Vince said, staring straight into her wavering brown eyes. "Your secrets are safe with me, Orwell. You're my friend, and I wouldn't dare tell something you weren't ready for me to say."

"Vince, I appreciate this, I really do, but it's best for me just to stay a mystery. The less you know about me the better. Besides, I doubt you'll want anything to do with me once you get back home," the brunette murmured, starting down at her coffee over the brim of her mug.

Vince burst into a fit of laughter, which caught his partner off guard. "Who do you take me for, really? This… horrible asshole that'll turn on you like a snake?" He finally asked, shaking his head.

"No. You're a good man, but the more personal we are with each other—especially since we're technically living together at the moment…" Orwell trailed off, chewing on her lip distractedly.

"But aren't people supposed to be personal towards each other?" Vince asked, oblivious to exactly what her definition of personal meant.

The brunette just stared back at her partner. He really was a blockhead, wasn't he? "Never mind, Vince," she added as she rose to her feet. "I've got work to do, anyways."

Her partner watched as she walked away, completely dumbfounded. "What? What did I say?" He heard no response, so he tried again, "Orwell!"

So, I'll end this story on a humorous note. Reviews are loved.