Jack-Raven-Mary Anne OOM

[jackdriscoll]

Jack is at a cafe. There's a lot of cafes in New York City.

He is writing. There are lots of writers in New York City. A lot of them write in cafes.

So familiar people running into this particular writer at this particular cafe would be purely coincidental, right? Right.

Comments

[song_tra_bong]

There are lots of blondes in New York City. Naturals, dye-jobs that could pass for natural, clearly bad dye-jobs, highlights and even a few wigs.

This one's a natural.

She's sitting a few tables over, not in his direct line of sight, but visible should he turn to look.

She orders coffee and a slice of cake.

The fact that her companion seems to resemble the particular writer is purely coincidental.

[creator_raven]

If Raven had biology, it might possibly be genetic. But he is not, and it is not, and possibly Jack should be very very grateful.

Possibly.

There is, after all, little certainty in the universe. Except for the fact that Raven is grinning, maybe, bright black eyes fixed on Jack.

Bastard.

[jackdriscoll]

A long time ago in a latitude far, far away, a writer named Jack Driscoll had been casually sipping at his drink and reading a book of fine literature when he heard someone say his name. The person, an actress by the name of Ann Darrow, had quite mistaken the sound recordist for himself.

It was sheer talent that kept him from spitting out his drink, then. Not so now. Not so, when he catches sight of Mary Anne and--

Well. The waitress who was walking past him? Not with the luck today.

"Oh, Christ," he spits out, and rushes to wipe her with some spare napkins.

[song_tra_bong]

Jack gets a finger-wiggle of greeting.

She leans over to Raven. "Isn't that sweet? He thinks one of us is holy."

[creator_raven]

Raven beams at her.

"Possibly it is me. I think it is the pretty."

He nods. He has taken no care to keep his voice down.

[jackdriscoll]

The waitress, in a huff of indignation, storms away from Jack, leaving the poor boy to face his enemies.

Which he does with a stride to match the waitress's.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hisses. At Raven, not Mary Anne.

[song_tra_bong]

Enemies, fah.

If they were enemies, they'd be doing something far more sinister than minding their own business. Relatively speaking.

Mary Anne just gives him a look along the lines of 'pls to not be pissing off the trickster god, kthanx' and takes a bite of cake.

Mmm, cinnamon.

[creator_raven]

"There is cake."

Raven's tone suggests this is self-evident.

Raven's expression indicates that 'plaguing you' might be a better answer.

But the cake is very good.

[jackdriscoll]

Unsatisfactory answer. Please try again.

"There's cake at the bar."

[song_tra_bong]

"But not this cake," Mary Anne points out unhelpfully.

"Well, possibly, but we wouldn't know to ask for it, having never been here before. And travel is such a broadening experience."

Her voice is decidely too chipper. Must be the coffee.

[creator_raven]

"Also it makes my feet less itchy."

Raven matches Mary Anne's chipper and raises it.

Raises it into Jack's FACE.

Right.

[jackdriscoll]

Jack makes a -_-.

Yes, his eyes actually are no wider than hyphens right now.

"I suppose you both want me to join you, yes?"

[song_tra_bong]

"What a lovely idea!"

Jack is a creative genius.

And how convenient that there just happens to be an empty third chair.

"It would be a shame to come all this way and not spend time with you."

There's even slice of cake with Jack's name on it. Not literally, unless it is perhaps an optical trick of the frosting.

[creator_raven]

Frosting is very tricky, indeed. And is that a sad clown face in the middle of the piece of cake?

No.

Of course not. Really.

"You are very cuddly, after all."

Raven beams at Jack. He likes him.

[jackdriscoll]

One very thick eyebrow goes up into a mass of black hair.

"Cuddly?"

He takes a seat.

[song_tra_bong]

"Extremely."

Her eyes flash with laughter over the rim of her coffee cup.