Something close to happy is suddenly mine...

[stillaboyscout]

It should be said that there is never actually a quiet day in Chicago. Ever. Somewhere, always, something is happening, and invariably that something has to do with explosives. It is Chicago, after all.

But there are a lot of people in Chicago, and so specific people can have quiet days. Take Michael Vaughn for instance, currently out and about

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[kineticmachine]

Arlin is not sitting out in the rain. Arlin is, in fact, wanting to go in from the rain, and also wanting food, and also wanting to not deal with any more Organization crap at the moment (you know, after a recent road trip threw both a pterosaur and a polar bear at him), which is why he only has his personal, non-Rift journal with him. He was also getting sick of staying in his flat, which is the only reason he's going to a cafe to draw.

Of course, he recognizes the girl sitting outside almost immediately. This makes him hunch a little bit further into his jacket and attempt to get into the coffeeshop before she notices he's there. This may or may not work, but he can hope, right?

[omnomnomface]

Trin's not dumb, despite what most people would think, and though she might not be the most book-smart person in the world, she does have a very very special skill--she never, ever forgets a face. Ever. So when she sees her special drinking buddy? She raises an arm in greeting, simultaneously taking a sip of her coffee.

"Aaron!" she shouts to him. "Grab a seat, I'll get you a coffee!" Because the term 'drinking buddy' does not limit itself to alcohol.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin sighs. He's not going to pretend he didn't hear her, because that's an insult to both their intelligences. He's also not going to just walk into the cafe anyway, as bitchy as he's feeling like being today. No, he's going to lineface at her.

"It's raining," he says. Clearly she cannot expect him bear both her company and rain. He might not mind the rain if this was someone he particularly wanted to have a conversation with and he hadn't come to the cafe specifically to sketch. Sketching in the rain doesn't work out so well.

[omnomnomface]

"I KNOW!" Trin giggles, looking up at the sky as she stands to make room for him. "Isn't it wonderful?"

She loves the rain, if you couldn't tell. It has something to do with the fact that she's also terrified of fire, but there's something so calming about the rain.

[kineticmachine]

"No," Arlin replies, continuing to lineface. Though said lineface is undermined a bit by the fact that since he walked here in the rain, he's looking a bit soggier than usual. Significantly less intimidating than he might have preferred. At least his journal is secure in the inside pocket of his jacket, and not soggy like the rest of him.

"Besides," he says, opening the cafe door, "I prefer my food without polluted Chicago rain seasoning it." He starts into the cafe. He's not going to hold out much hope that she won't follow him or anything, but he's not standing in the rain debating its merits any longer than necessary.

[omnomnomface]

Trin sighs and follows him into the cafe, because she's not giving up on him. "Why'd you go out in the rain then, doofus?" she demands, then waves him away. "You go sit down, dorkus," she says, apparently just coming up with as many nicknames that start with the letter 'd' as she can. "Like I said, I'm going to buy you a drink. What is it, coffee, black? You look like a coffee guy. Me, I love coffee. It tastes like brains."

Don't ask Trin how she came to that conclusion. Or if that's even true. She apparently thinks so. Her taste buds may be a little off.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin's lip curls a little at the pet names, and stays up front, glaring at the menu like he has a personal vendetta against it. "I went out because one can only stay in one's flat for so long without going mad," he replies. "It wasn't raining when I left."

Oh, the number of ways he is merely going to arch an eyebrow at the comment about brains and otherwise ignore it. "Yes, I am buying myself coffee, and also food, while I'm at it." And then he is going to sit over there and eat it. And draw. And enjoy his solitude. Yeah, Arlin, keep telling yourself that.

[omnomnomface]

Trin just looks absolutely disgusted. "Aaron," she says. "I understand. Maybe you're not so bright. I get it. But when someone says they are going to buy you coffee? That means you sit your ass over there in a chair by the window, and you wait until I bring you a coffee, BLACK UNLESS YOU SAY OTHERWISE RIGHT FUCKING NOW, and also WHAT DO YOU WANT TO EAT BECAUSE I AM PAYING." She exhales heavily, then inhales and speaks in her best teacher voice. "And when someone says that, that means you just accept it and sit down. Okay? Is that clear, or do I have to explain it again?"

She likes the feeling of patronizing him. It feels good. She wonders briefly if this is what he feels whenever he talks to her. She likes it, one way or another.

[kineticmachine]

What.

Arlin just stares at her for a moment, a look of blank whatthefuck on his face, and then he literally snarls and lunges toward her, grabbing a handful of the front of her shirt and dragging her toward him. "Listen," he hisses, his accent suddenly completely apparent. "Maybe you're not so bright either, because generally people get the hint when someone clearly doesn't want to talk to you, because the proper thing to do in that situation is not to shriek at them--"

He stops, realizing that hey, they are in the middle of a cafe in which he would like to sit peacefully and eat his dinner and work out a design or two for new machines and, most importantly, not be kicked out. He also realizes she just made him lose his cool, which probably speaks volumes about his state of mind lately. He also realizes that this is utterly ridiculousSo he lets go of her shirt, quirking his lips a bit into the closest to a genuine smile he's shown since he ran into Aniki in the park a month ago, and lets out an incredulous laugh. "This is

[omnomnomface]

Trin freezes in place, because the last time someone manhandled her like that, it ended with a beating that did not lead to sex. And that... that's bad. Any words that he says go way over her head, and then he lets go, and she shakes her head. "Okay," she says, trembling a little. "Okay." She sniffs, then turns to face the line.

"I'm getting black," she says. "Is that okay?" She rubs her hands together nervously.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin closes his eyes for a moment, because he knows that reaction and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, in a public place. "You don't need my permission," he says, sighing. "And calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." Never mind that he did within five seconds of 'meeting' her, last time they ran into each other. Nobody ever said Arlin was good with people.

He also turns back to the counter, glaring the intimidated barista into submission for a moment, and then orders his food. And then takes the number and turns back to Trinity. "You may sit with me if you want," he tells her. Like she needed his permission, per se, but whatever. He'll take pity on her and not fight her weird need to be his friend...for now. Not to say he's going to be talkative. Then he turns and picks a window seat far away from anyone else in the shop, as per usual.

[omnomnomface]

Trin exhales, then inhales again. "Th... thanks," she says, stuttering just a little. She shakes her shoulders out and orders two black coffees, then walks over to Arlin's table, sitting down and looking at her nails, curled around her fists. She picks at one, having trouble finding words for once. "I didn't..." she stumbles, then decides it's worthless and just sighs, sitting back to watch the rain. She sniffs, waiting for something. She's not entirely sure what.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin's gotten out his sketchbook and one of those fancy-dancy graphite pencils, and is making light, determined lines on the paper by the time Trinity sits down. He doesn't really look up, though does take the coffee and say, "Thank you."

The silence that follows might be uncomfortable for Trin, but Arlin doesn't mind it much at first. Except for the fact that he knows that technically, according to the rules of society, he should probably say something. Also, the fact that she's spoken makes it doubly hard to pretend that the silence means the same thing to both of them.

He looks up, finally, pencil hovering over the paper for a brief moment while he does before he goes back to what he was drawing. "Don't apologize simply because you think it's necessary," he says. "It's a disgusting habit to get into."

Those were not really the words the rules of society might have dictated he said, but at least he said words.

[omnomnomface]

Trin exhales in a sort of half-laugh. "'Kay then," she says. "I just... yeah. 'm not apologizing." She takes a sip of her own coffee--that takes her back more out of her head and into the present. She leans a little bit on the table.

"Watcha drawin'?" she asks. Because now that he's said words, it's okay for her to go back to being Queen of the Conversation.

[kineticmachine]

"Good," he replies, making a few more light lines.

And here they are venturing back into the realm of normalcy, which is not a realm Arlin operates well in, as much as he operates well in relating to anyone in any realm. He frowns down at his sketchbook for a moment, erasing a few of the lines he just made. "Designs for something," he replies. Master of conversation that he is.

[omnomnomface]

Trin nods, taking another sip of her coffee. "Designs for what?" she asks, because 'something' is not clear enough for her. Trin has no sense of privacy. Really she doesn't. She's a firm believer that secrets are bad bad bad bad BAD, and that everything should be out in the open.