[attr="class","sinbody2"]Figuring out where to park his car so it could charge without melting had proved challenging. The machine's body sported his failures - the slightly sagging bumped in the rear, a side mirror that dipped on the left, and a hood that vaguely outlined the engine underneath. At least the first two weren't horrendously noticeable, and the latter looked kind of cool (in his opinion), as if it had been part of the original design.

With the vehicle now soaking up just enough indirect rays during the day to charge without melting, Jaron had a lot more freedom at night. He'd started driving around just for fun... Though he had to admit, he wasn't all that adventurous. Thus far he'd only made several loops back to his shoddy cabin in the night, searching it for damage. It was shaded enough by the forest that it had yet to go up in flames, but he hadn't missed how the trees protecting it were now barren. He would be amazed if his home made it through this dreadful season. Lost in thought on the drive back from yet another trip down to Nemus, he wondered how much longer they'd all have to endure this. He'd already pondered "what if this is it" too many times to count, so Jaron now settled on there being an end somewhere... It just wasn't yet in view.

His musings had him speeding faster along the flat, dry terrain than he usually did. He wasn't terribly far from the caves of the mountains now, but when he zipped past a figure in the darkness he skidded to a halt anyway. The man didn't waste his time counting hours until daylight - with his car, he didn't have to worry about cutting it too close unless he wanted to do some serious exploring, which he was not inclined to do. At least not without Zee, who he'd seen far too little of since getting up here. He'd told himself it wasn't jealousy raging through him when he'd reached the caves that first night and she immediately burst into conversation with just about everyone around, while he had the urge to pull back. When that had become the case instead of turning himself into the life of the party, he didn't know. Maybe when he got here and no one knew who the hell he was.

Anyway - figure. It had appeared to be a person, so Jaron kicked the Quant into reverse and backed up. It was a cloudy night, so the moons weren't as helpful as they usually were, but as he neared he realized it was a petite blonde. She didn't look particularly distressed, but parked the car and got out anyway, the door sailing upward like a wing. Emerging, he strode lazily around the front of the vehicle so the headlights would illuminate him, and leaned a hip against the bumper. "Want a ride?" he asked charmingly - not that he was trying. The tone came naturally to him. He crossed his arms over his chest. Despite the darkness it was still bloody hot out, so suddenly being stationary felt a little like suffocating. "I promise the trip is much more pleasant with the wind in your face," he smirked, eyeing her.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]Jaron opened his mouth to issue a warm, "yeah", but snapped it shut a moment later as the girl rambled on like a crazy person. His brow furrowed slightly, despite his efforts to keep a stoic mask. The woman was either batshit insane, high as a fucking kite, or both. "Whatever you're smoking, I need some," he chuckled, shaking his head. He purposely avoided eye contact, because he didn't like the way she pushed at the word ride. He would give her a ride... In his car. Across the road-less terrain. To her destination, where he would leave her without a second thought. Her insanity kept him from having a single sexual thought in her direction, which was really saying something for the manwhore.

Pff, manwhore? Who've you slept with since you got here?

The self-reminder was humbling. Deflating, he pushed from the bumper as the girl drew closer, Jaron having every intention of taking a step back. She caught him off guard with more rambling, causing the man to raise a brow. Growing up the way he did, it was a miracle he even understood who she was referencing when she said Captain Kirk, but hell if he knew where he came from. The other names went way over the Entertainer's head, and he made no attempt to cover it up. Snorting, Jaron brush a finger over his nose and straightened. "Uh... Jaron," he responded, chuckling lightly. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. "Seriously, you need to let me know where you're getting that stuff."

Zee would be beyond disappointed with him. She'd gotten the brunt of his withdrawals when they first got to PE, and it had only been recently that he could claim he was completely without craving. To revert to his old ways now would be... detrimental, to say the least. Only the thought of her disapproval had him pulling back and moving past Colette to reach for the passenger door. Pulling it open, he motioned for the blonde to get inside, face defaulting to to pretty-boy assured. "Après vous," he offered, utilizing the single French expression he knew.

Once she was seated, Jaron closed the door and went around to his side. Settling behind the wheel, his fingers extended and flexed over the leather. "Any special requests?" he asked, cocking his head at Colette and praying she'd speak a language he understood. This luck dragon crap was confusing, even for his ex-druggie brain.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]His eyebrows raised at the mention of Montreal, then lifted higher as she mentioned her profession. Had he really just picked up another Entertainer? Finally, someone who could understand how useless he felt being like "yeah, I sing and make people happy for a living" while everyone else actually did something helpful. He stayed quiet though, allowing her to continue her harmless monologue. She seemed suddenly more calm, which confused him, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

At her request, Jaron rolled stuck his head out the window and tried to figure out which star she was pointing to. There were about a trillion out there, and the moons obscured more than a few, he'd bet. "Uh... How about I just aim for the mountains?" he countered, praying she'd take the offer. The Quant wouldn't remain charged for a much longer excursion, since he'd already done quite a bit of driving before picking her up. "The car'll run out of juice if we try to get too crazy," he warned, chuckling. After running a hand through his hair, he put the car in drive and started forward, the headlights bouncing over the uneven terrain.

"So... You're an Entertainer?" he asked, voice probably a little too hopeful. He kept his eyes forward, not wanting to look overly eager. Where he planned to take the conversation after she confirmed his suspicion, he didn't know. It sounded like she wasn't actually on anything, so regardless of how their smalltalk progressed, it was unlikely that he'd try to form a friendship with her. Then again..... It would be really damn nice to have someone that really understood him. Zee tried, and she sympathized, but he still didn't think she truly got it. She was good at what she did, and tough as nails. Jaron was more likely to avoid a fight than pick one (though he'd like to think he'd defend himself well), and did little more than form meaningless relationships with everyone he came across, just so he could claim someone liked him. After twenty years of fame, solitude hit him pretty hard.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]His mouth tugged down at one side when she called him Peter Pan, but he didn't comment on it. He was going to stop questioning why she said the shit she did.

When she next spoke, Jaron's spirits dropped. Leading in that way immediately told him she wasn't a member of his class, after all, which meant that he was in the car with yet another someone who led a more meaningful existence than him. Fabulous. He sighed carefully, not wanting it to come out as the huff that he really wanted to make. She didn't need to think that he was annoyed with her when the truth was that he just felt completely inadequate. Coming to a planet where no one knew his name and everyone was too busy trying to survive to give a damn about his talents (or good looks) was more than a little disheartening to someone who thrived on being the center of attention.

"Oh, no big deal, you're just a doctor," he snorted, shaking his head. "I'm an Entertainer. Singer, specifically," he divulged, feeling a little like melting into the seat. Never before had he felt embarrassed of himself, but PE was making damn sure he didn't have a good time here. Except, it gave him Zee..

"My stage name was Leo, back home. I was-," kind of a big deal, "-touring when the news came to evacuate." He shifted in his seat, pointedly keeping his eyes on the path ahead rather than aimed at Colette. "I really need to start pulling my weight around here." Shrugging, he continued, "But no one seems to care about kicking back and relaxing when this planet seems determined to kill us at every turn." Finally, his gaze found her face. She was a weird kind of pretty in what moonlight came in through the windshield, but she went from level-headed to crazy so quickly it gave him whiplash, and that kept him from finding her truly attractive. Besides, her nose was a little too sharp, her eyes too big, and her hair the wrong shade...

Because you're comparing her to one particular person. Ass.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]Not exactly a doctor? What was that supposed to mean? Jaron's brow drew together as he listened to the bubbly blonde, kind of wishing he never got injured around her. He could very well be wrong, but it was his understanding that training to become a psychologist versus medical doctor was.... quite different. "Interesting choice," he observed mildly, eyes only briefly shifting to her. She was much calmer now, but the descriptions she gave of things went way over his head. Call it self-centered, but he had enough going on in his own life back on Earth to be too concerned with other celebrities. Except Selena Gomez - he knew her. Their tours had coincidentally crossed paths (not that he had aimed for that or anything), and they spent a night out together. She was closely watched, though, so they did very little aside from dance. She hadn't even given him her number, which was pretty sad on his part. He always got the number..

Pulled from his reverie by Colette's random guessing, Jaron snorted. "Definitely Nordic death metal," he teased, and smirked. "I just forgot to pack my eyeliner when the planet was falling apart." Chuckling lightly, he shook his head. "No, I'm more... I dunno, somewhere between pop and alternative, I guess. It was hard getting a fan base at first, since my sound was different." With a shrug, he continued, "Or maybe because I'm from Israel, so at first I was slow-growing, and then once I got internationally noticed, I became pretty popular with the American tweens." It was kind of disturbing how young some of the girls were that had yanked on his sleeve after a concert and asked him to marry them, their parents looking amused in the background.

Realizing he was rambling, Jaron shut his mouth to let Colette speak. He got a little bit excited at the pianist thing, though, and had to comment. "I play piano and guitar.. But neither of them have arrived yet." Yet he had the car, which was helpful beyond belief, especially during this season. And, come to think of it, it would be a hell of a lot easier to move the baby grand now. Although with all that sand, the Quant may just sink into it. Someone should build a platform around the Point with all those empty crates lying around, though the exact point of touchdown never seemed to be precisely the same.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]At her offer, Jaron just looked at Colette sidelong. He only ever wore makeup for photo shoots, and even then he had to wipe it off the second they were done. It weirded him out to have that crap completely covering his face. He had no idea how girls did it.

The greeting had his eyebrows inching toward his hairline, surprised she knew it. "Aleichem shalom," he replied, finishing the formal exchange.

Her gift had him chuckling and dropping his head, albeit only for a second so he didn't hit anything (in the great expanse of nothing). "That's...." weird, he finished silently. "How'd she like it?" he asked instead. He'd already come to the conclusion that this woman was a little off her rocker, so he just let it lie. "I... don't know any French. Sorry."

Just thinking about someone taking his guitar and restringing it made him want to slap someone. "How about you just learn to play righty, so the only one inconvenienced is you?" he suggested, perhaps a little more sharply than he should've. He hadn't meant it to come out harsh though, so hopefully she didn't take it that way. Rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, Jaron found for the first time that he actually wanted to be done driving. He'd pushed the Quant a lot today, to the point that he was actually a little concerned they wouldn't make it the whole way back. Eyeing the girl to his right for a second, he pushed away the thought that the added weight would be a strain on the car. It was a stupid thought - Colette couldn't weigh more than fifty kigs.

"So.. Which colony did you live in before the Scorch hit?" he asked, searching for a semi-normal conversation he could start before she came up with something crazy. Studying the night, he could just make out where the stars were blotted out by the mountain, but he couldn't tell how far away it was. He guessed they had at least another half hour in the car.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]"I'm sure..," he replied, sliding his eyes away from her so she wouldn't see the doubt in them. "Uhm, no, not a fair deal at all!" he chuckled, looking back to her. "Fiddler on the Roof is a classic. The other two...... aren't," he finished, mouth quirking at the corner. She was totally insane, he deduced.

At her love for the French language, Jaron couldn't keep his gaze from shifting to her again, though his head remained facing forward. He felt like opening his mouth would open a whole can of worms that he didn't care to, so he kept it shut instead. She'd either talk to herself about cheese for the next fifteen minutes or slide into a nice, cozy silence, and neither scenario required him to talk.

If he'd thought her sane before, he definitely didn't after she gave him a look like he'd just suggested she set a puppy on fire. What?! Learning to play righty was not that big of a sacrifice, and if she was such a great musician - like she clearly thought she was - then it would be no problem for her. But he'd clearly offended her, and regardless of how much of an oddball she was, he felt a little bad for having done so... Even if he thought she was being ridiculous.

She stuck her tongue out, and Jaron was struck by how childish that was. His face scrunched in a mixture of confusion and annoyance, and when she turned away he sighed - because if he didn't pursue her feelings, she'd probably remain in her tantrum for the rest of their drive, and that would be so blissful he could barely even think it. "מְשׁוּנֶה," he grumbled, comfortable in the notion that she wouldn't be able to understand his language (he hoped). Otherwise the rest of this trip would be... hell for him.