[ Sitting at the counter, Leon is calmly reading the newspaper while drinking a hot cup of coffee, with his keys and cigarettes and wallet on the counter next to him. ]
[here's something different for the café scene: short, dusty, and blue, for starters. nevermind the face and tail--he's already out of place enough without considering that.
he doesn't act as unusual as he looks for the place, rather hovering over the glass displays of cakes and cookies like any little kid would. no regard for anyone or anything.
he thinks he's dreaming again, and judging by the lack of acknowledgement from the rest of the place, he probably could be. there's nothing like this back home.]
[ Lifting his head from the newspaper, the man with messy hair watches the blue little guy and can't help but to watch him, completely enchanted by him. There's a small smile and he puts down the newspaper and crosses his arms over the counter. ]
[the remark goes unheeded for a time; these weird people always talked out loud in the dreams, sometimes to nobody but things in their hands (nobody can believe it when chiinah talks about it). eventually, though, he turns his head, looking around to see who that voice was talking to and finds himself being looked at.
his ear twitches.
for a moment, he looks behind him, left and right...then back at the man. he squints. was he talking to another one of those bricks that people have? no, he doesn't see one.
instead of simply asking for clarification, the boy walks over--rather too close for comfort, waving a hand in front of his face.]
[ He tips his head back and laughs, smoke wisping away from his open mouth. One more drag and he flicks the butt off before dropping into a squat. He smirks at it. ]
[ Is eating a delicious French-y crepe and enjoying it thoroughly because it tastes like those back in France, leaning back on the chair as she chews and watches the people outside from the cute little window with rose-red and white chequered curtains. ]
[ She looks up, stopping in the middle of a bite of the crepe, and looks at him without a letting one twitch betray her thoughts. She has outstanding control over her conscious and unconscious body language. ] Good afternoon. [ Thick French accent. ]
[ His eyes are a startling, unnatural gold-blue, and the smile he offers is almost a little sharp, large without showing a hint of teeth or gum. He doesn't make a move to order anything for himself. ]
Rather, I should say bon après-midi, Mademoiselle.
[ Have a kid outside, wrapped up in a threadbare hoodie against the chill of cold wind, huddling under a storefront awning. He's fumbling for something in his deep pockets, looks tired and a little exasperated. ]
[ There is a young woman making her slow way down the sidewalk. Her sleeves are pulled over her hands, which she uses to cover her mouth as she stops before storefront after storefront, peering into their windows. She is whispering quietly to herself, but stops a small distance away when she sees him. ]
[ Pulled from his floundering search, the boy raises his head, eyes round at the unprompted greeting. He attempts to register her face, but she's a stranger to him. Yet he can't shake the itch of familiarity, like he should still know. ]
[ She shuffles over, a little bit closer, hiding behind her hands. Her large peer at him over fabric and fingers, growing slightly wider when she speaks. ]
No no, I don't think so I would remember you would forget.
[ So, there's this kid having a pastry. He doesn't look too odd, but, well. He has a sword at his side bundled up in black and gold cloth. Approach with caution. ]
[ She's seen plenty of swords in her time; they are good for dying upon. Sitting at a nearby table, she smokes cigarette after cigarette -- looking at the young man and his parcel wrapped in cloth idly. Outside the window beside her, the sidewalk is thick with crows. ]
[ Seth continues to munch idly on the sweet confection, utterly oblivious to the world around him as it turns. Often, he will take a moment to look at his sword, eyes filling with a faraway look until the moment passes; he seems at ill ease. ]
[ There is death on him, she can tell that much, but death lingers on so many that there is very little that distinguishes him from all the others. Still, she is curious. Stubbing out her cigarette, she rises and then walks over and -- without a word -- pulls the chair out across from him to sit down on it. ]
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[here's something different for the café scene: short, dusty, and blue, for starters. nevermind the face and tail--he's already out of place enough without considering that.
he doesn't act as unusual as he looks for the place, rather hovering over the glass displays of cakes and cookies like any little kid would. no regard for anyone or anything.
he thinks he's dreaming again, and judging by the lack of acknowledgement from the rest of the place, he probably could be. there's nothing like this back home.]
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The chocolate one is delicious.
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his ear twitches.
for a moment, he looks behind him, left and right...then back at the man. he squints. was he talking to another one of those bricks that people have? no, he doesn't see one.
instead of simply asking for clarification, the boy walks over--rather too close for comfort, waving a hand in front of his face.]
Can you see me?
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Woof.
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Rather, I should say bon après-midi, Mademoiselle.
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Hello hello.
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--Hi. Have we met?
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No no, I don't think so I would remember you would forget.
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