Absolutely :) Hmm... the former?onceaheroineOctober 29 2012, 00:38:10 UTC
[Belle's off for a walk down by the old t(r)oll bridge, cautious of the town boundaries but enjoying the solitude of the forest. Things have been faintly claustrophobic in town of late, so it's especially nice to feel the wind in her hair and to watch the play of light on the wat--
She stops dead at the tangled mass of fabrics (and is that hair?) down on the shore. For the briefest moment, she's shocked and still... then she runs over to check, because that could be a person.
The closer she gets, the more sure she is and then she's there, dropping to her knees and turning the body over--] Oh, please don't be dead.
Lord knows she needs more reasons to be mad at RumpletheseacallsOctober 29 2012, 01:09:26 UTC
[There is no heartbeat to be found, but Belle turns her over and after a moment Milah takes a deep, gasping breath. She grabs Belle's hand, Killian's name on her lips, and disappointment in her eyes when she looks up and sees the unfamiliar face.
Nothing is as she remembers it. The image of Rumplestiltskin crushing her heart is seared in her mind. She should feel anger, or relief that she's alive, but it's all strangely muted.]
7 of course!onlytolerableOctober 28 2012, 22:03:42 UTC
What's the phrase? Sophie thinks as she works her way through the Montmartre crowd. Self-fulfilling prophecy. That's it. She should have remembered that when she fretted about getting lost in Paris. Who on earth gets lost in a city they lived in for months? Sophie Berthier, that's who.
Still, she'd realized her mistake soon enough. She glances at her watch. Not late, exactly, but not early which is Sophie's way of being punctual. She'd only sat waiting at the other cafe for ten minutes before she realized she wasn't at the Place du Tertre. You'd think she would have noticed the lack of street artists.
Then she spots the familiar profile apparently waiting for someone--her of course. With a happy smile she slips up beside him and engulfs him in a hug.
"There you are! I'm not late, am I? I'm late. I'm so sorry, brawd. I got turned around."
I'm so sorry, Sophie. ;w; <3afuckingloserOctober 29 2012, 03:03:25 UTC
What's the phrase? One of those faces, probably. Makes him look just like anybody else. Most of the time, it's a good thing--people half-mistake him for someone they might know, decide he's not out of place because he's got something so familiar about him that they're surely just forgetting his name. It's on the tip of their tongue. No reason to stop him.
But then, from time to time, there's the horrible flip-side. The part where 'one of those faces' means he gets mistaken for other actual human beings. And people do silly things like, well.
Hug him while he's waiting for an intelligence drop.
His French accent isn't perfect--needs refining before he takes it for a test-run in Paris. The woman's accent he can't quite place. Best to go with unassuming tourist in his natural clipped British accent. "--sorry, Miss, can-- I help you?"
Right back at ya, EricganonlytolerableOctober 30 2012, 19:14:42 UTC
Sophie shrieks and stumbles back a step. The scream, at least, gets cut off by her hands slapping over her mouth. Her green eyes, huge as saucers, stare at him from over her fingers. That--she must have overheard someone else. That can't be. It's him. It can't be anyone else. He's even wearing a nice suit in his favorite color.
So she laughs at herself and signs. /You're right. I am ridiculous. Sorry. I thought-- She stops, feeling suddenly light-headed. His lips had moved. He had-- She'd heard-- This can't be Cadogan.
As if it wasn't bad enough the traffic had held him up nearly an hour (and Jack was always early which meant he was only about half an hour late), there was only one security officer at the front and a few people requiring assistance ahead of him.
Jack had arrived to the floor he needed to drop off architectural plans to and everyone was gone for the day. To add insult to injury, upon returning back to the elevator, some asshat had pressed all the floors before getting out.
He had ascended to some floor in Oscorp where a blonde stepped in the elevator. Jack gave a small nod in greeting. Although reserved, he always looked people in the eye. Anything else would have probably been odd when standing at a solid six foot four.
With the day he was having, it shouldn't have surprised Jack that the elevator suddenly came to a stop and went pitch black.
"Lovely." Although one word, his Scottish accent bled heavily through. It had a tendency to do so when he was stressed.
It's been a hell of a morning, and Gwen has been running from office to office and floor to floor all morning. She's got an arm full of files when she ducks between the elevator doors quickly before they shut, and is promptly greeted by what she can only assume must be some kind of Norse God. She's still breathing hard from the mad dash to the elevator, and she just blinks, staring up at him for a moment before she shakes her head quickly.
"Sorry, just...you're tall," she comments, and promptly falls silent as she starts to internally berate herself for it. She's not known for dazzling conversation starters, but that one is particularly awkward. She starts tapping the side of the file lightly with her pen, glancing at the changing floor numbers impatiently, and she's just about to open her mouth to say something when the lights suddenly cut.
If anyone asks her afterwards, Gwen will strongly deny the surprised gasp - that might have sounded suspiciously like a surprised squeak - and the paperwork in her hands immediately go
( ... )
His mum being just five foot four (he suspected she was actually some centimeters shorter) and his father six foot two, Jack had endured quite a bit of comments on his height from his family. Particularly since it happened nearly overnight starting at the age of fourteen.
Her apology brought a hint of a smile to his lips. That was a feat in itself with how frustrated he had been feeling. He was about to comment on her apology not being necessary when they were suddenly thrown in the dark. And her hand is on his arm.
Jack was in a button down plaid shirt which he had the sleeves folded up to his forearms (habit). His hand moved to hold her side. Being prior military, and around women about her height, he was sure it wasn't on an inappropriate location.
The need to steady her was there after her touch and squeal. "Maybe we should first try the emergency button?" he offered and found himself controlling his accent a little better. Jack pulled his cell phone from the holster hanging off the pocket of his jeans and used it for light.
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She stops dead at the tangled mass of fabrics (and is that hair?) down on the shore. For the briefest moment, she's shocked and still... then she runs over to check, because that could be a person.
The closer she gets, the more sure she is and then she's there, dropping to her knees and turning the body over--] Oh, please don't be dead.
Reply
Nothing is as she remembers it. The image of Rumplestiltskin crushing her heart is seared in her mind. She should feel anger, or relief that she's alive, but it's all strangely muted.]
Who are you? Where am I?
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Still, she'd realized her mistake soon enough. She glances at her watch. Not late, exactly, but not early which is Sophie's way of being punctual. She'd only sat waiting at the other cafe for ten minutes before she realized she wasn't at the Place du Tertre. You'd think she would have noticed the lack of street artists.
Then she spots the familiar profile apparently waiting for someone--her of course. With a happy smile she slips up beside him and engulfs him in a hug.
"There you are! I'm not late, am I? I'm late. I'm so sorry, brawd. I got turned around."
Reply
But then, from time to time, there's the horrible flip-side. The part where 'one of those faces' means he gets mistaken for other actual human beings. And people do silly things like, well.
Hug him while he's waiting for an intelligence drop.
His French accent isn't perfect--needs refining before he takes it for a test-run in Paris. The woman's accent he can't quite place. Best to go with unassuming tourist in his natural clipped British accent. "--sorry, Miss, can-- I help you?"
Reply
So she laughs at herself and signs. /You're right. I am ridiculous. Sorry. I thought-- She stops, feeling suddenly light-headed. His lips had moved. He had-- She'd heard-- This can't be Cadogan.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Jack had arrived to the floor he needed to drop off architectural plans to and everyone was gone for the day. To add insult to injury, upon returning back to the elevator, some asshat had pressed all the floors before getting out.
He had ascended to some floor in Oscorp where a blonde stepped in the elevator. Jack gave a small nod in greeting. Although reserved, he always looked people in the eye. Anything else would have probably been odd when standing at a solid six foot four.
With the day he was having, it shouldn't have surprised Jack that the elevator suddenly came to a stop and went pitch black.
"Lovely." Although one word, his Scottish accent bled heavily through. It had a tendency to do so when he was stressed.
Reply
"Sorry, just...you're tall," she comments, and promptly falls silent as she starts to internally berate herself for it. She's not known for dazzling conversation starters, but that one is particularly awkward. She starts tapping the side of the file lightly with her pen, glancing at the changing floor numbers impatiently, and she's just about to open her mouth to say something when the lights suddenly cut.
If anyone asks her afterwards, Gwen will strongly deny the surprised gasp - that might have sounded suspiciously like a surprised squeak - and the paperwork in her hands immediately go ( ... )
Reply
Her apology brought a hint of a smile to his lips. That was a feat in itself with how frustrated he had been feeling. He was about to comment on her apology not being necessary when they were suddenly thrown in the dark. And her hand is on his arm.
Jack was in a button down plaid shirt which he had the sleeves folded up to his forearms (habit). His hand moved to hold her side. Being prior military, and around women about her height, he was sure it wasn't on an inappropriate location.
The need to steady her was there after her touch and squeal. "Maybe we should first try the emergency button?" he offered and found himself controlling his accent a little better. Jack pulled his cell phone from the holster hanging off the pocket of his jeans and used it for light.
Reply
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