Coffee and Cats - Part Two
Title: Coffee and Cats
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Beta: openedlocket
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: AU college setting. At the coffee shop where Eugenides usually spends his afternoons, he repeatedly encounters a stormy-eyed woman who peaks his interests.
Enjoy!
Chapter Index
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Eugenides ordered a bottomless mug of black tea the next day, needing the high dosage of caffeine to stay awake. His missing money had kept him awake all night. Since Sophos said that Ambiades had been the only other person in their room that whole evening, he was starting to wonder if he should report the senior student to the dean as a potential thief.
“Ah... bugger,” he muttered, as he realized he'd drained his mug of tea yet again.
The bell rung.
Irene Izmir--he'd looked her up on the campus directory the day before--paid for her drink and took a seat on the retro church pew that was pushed against the far wall, pointedly avoiding looking in his direction.
He pulled his sketchbook out of his shoulder book bag and flipped it open to his most recent drawing. He stood and walked to her table, setting the sketchbook down on the glossy tabletop for her to see.
She didn't appear startled, only glanced up at him with mild irritation before looking down at the sketch. “Are you stalking me?” she asked drily, pressing her bright gold nails into the handmade paper. It was a realistic sketch of her sitting at a table with her legs elegantly crossed; hard lines made in bold charcoal but softened by highlights drawn in soft pencil lead.
Eugenides shrugged. “I'd have to look up the legal definition. Do you like it?” he asked hopefully.
She didn't respond, merely turned the page to the previous drawing--one he'd made of the weeping willows in the park. “Are you an art student?” she wanted to know, looking up at Eugenides once more.
He grimaced and pulled out the chair across from her. “Science major. My dad's a general in the army. Wants me to build the next atom bomb and help him take over the world.” He made a sour face. “Better than the military, anyways...”
The corners of her mouth turned up into a half-smile. “This journal is handmade,” she observed, turning it over and examining the cover.
He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, my mom made those before she died. It was her hobby, making paper and stitching it together to make journals and sketchbooks.
Irene returned his drawings, considering him seriously. “Your mother was an artist?”
He shrugged. “She dabbled. Sold a few paintings here and there. She stayed at home with me and my brothers and sisters for the most part. With my dad's job and everything, we moved around a lot.”
Irene pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “So, what brings you here? To this sleepy campus town?”
Eugenides looked away from Irene to glance briefly out the window. “We lived near this town when my mom died. Thought it'd be a good place to... you know... Discover myself.” He smiled.
She smiled too, almost gently this time.
“So... enough about me,” he said, tapping the table with his knuckles. “You're a professor of...”
“Linguistics. Mediterranean linguistics to be specific. I also teach advanced Latin and Greek to the archeology students.”
“Ah, Latin... Ugh...” he said drily.
She chuckled, showing her large, straight teeth. “I've seen you in the language department near my office. Most students take Spanish or French to fill their foreign language requirement.” She smiled amusedly. “Or at the very least, a language that people are still born speaking somewhere in the world.”
He laughed. “I had a foreign language and a non-western studies requirement. I thought... Hey! Kill two birds with one stone!” He cringed. “I've learned my lesson.”
She laughed at that. Seeing her happy was a refreshing change from her usual expressions of stone and fire.
The milk steamer on the expresso machine turned off, and Lauren called the professor's name, setting her drink down on the counter.
Irene's smile evaporated, suddenly seeming to remember where she was and who she was talking to. “I have to go,” she said abruptly, standing up and swinging her purse over her shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you... umm...”
“Ah, Eugenides,” he said, standing up to shake her hand.
She raised a single eyebrow. “That's a good Greek name.” She nodded approvingly. “It means the well-born. You should be proud of that name...” she lowered her voice, “...along with some other things you may've taken for granted.”
She picked up her drink and waved as she walked out the door.
He watched her leave and picked up his sketchbook, running his fingers across the binding.
-X-X-X-
The moon was at harvest that night, peeking over the top of the hill; it's blood orange color a lull to an insomniac such as himself. Eugenides pressed his fingers to the cool glass. His warm breath misted the pane.
“Gen?” said Sophos, sleepily. “Is something wrong?”
Eugenides didn't shift his gaze away from the window. A mild shrug was his only response. “Do you know why the moon is orange sometimes, Sophos? I can't remember.”
Sophos sat up and pushed back the covers to press his feet flat to the floor. “It's just a refraction of light. It changes the color of the light we see, usually around the autumn equinox and when the moon is rising,” explained Sophos with a yawn.
“So, so, so... Somethings can appear misshapen in translation, hmm?” observed Eugenides cryptically.
“I suppose...” Sophos stared at his roommate curiously. “What's on your mind?”
Eugenides took a deep breath. “Do you think I should report Ambiades to the dean? I think he stole my hundred.”
“Gen...” Sophos began cautiously. “Ambiades is here on a football scholarship. If he gets accused of stealing, it may ruin his chances of graduating.”
“I know that, Sophos...” Eugenides sighed. “That's why I haven't said anything yet.”
“And even if you do talk to the dean, you don't have any proof. Plus, I was in the room the entire time. I would've noticed if he'd-”
“And you never took a bathroom break?” injected Eugenides, his tone biting.
It was Sophos's turn to sigh, and a silence settled over them both.
“Growing up sucks, you know that?” Eugenides said abruptly. Sophos lifted his eyes. “The older you get, the harder it is to tell what's right anymore.”
Sophos snorted. “You can say that again.”
-X-X-X-
A few days later, he decided to ask for advice.
“What's your opinion on stealing?”
Irene's jaw dropped, and she turned sharply to meet his gaze. He nails were painted a deep violet today, and she dig her fingertips into the lip of her paper coffee cup, attempting to secure the lid.
“You've got the wrong size,” he pointed out. “That's a large.”
She looked down and sighed, tossing the lid now smeared with latte froth and wiped her fingers with a compostable napkin. “Should I be concerned, Eugenides?”
“Ah... no... This is not about me.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I was just wondering what would you do if you thought someone took something? Would you report it even if it got them into a lot of trouble?”
Irene bit her lip. “Well... If you do the crime, you do the time. Is this a theoretical question or...?” She sat down, her cup cradled between her hands. Eugenides joined her.
“There's this guy my roommate is friends with,” Eugenides elaborated. “I don't really like him myself, but anyhow, they were playing Medal while I was out-”
“Metal?” Irene interrupted with a confused frown.
“No...” Eugenides shook his head. “Medal of Honor. Anyhow... As I was saying, when I got back, I was missing some money.” He bit his lip. “And I still can't find it.”
Irene took a sip. “Hmm, I suppose he could be the culprit or...” she trailed off and leaned closer. “Or your dislike of him is coloring your opinion. Could anyone else have taken the money?”
Eugenides shrugged. There were locks on the doors and windows, but even so, dorms weren't exactly the most secure places in the world. He really didn't know what to make of the whole thing.
“I think you're a smart kid, Eugenides,” said Irene, nodding considerately. “You'll figure out what the right decision is.”
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Author's Note: I'll see if I can get the third and final part up tomorrow. I hope you continue to enjoy!
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Beta: openedlocket
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: AU college setting. At the coffee shop where Eugenides usually spends his afternoons, he repeatedly encounters a stormy-eyed woman who peaks his interests.
Enjoy!
Chapter Index
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Eugenides ordered a bottomless mug of black tea the next day, needing the high dosage of caffeine to stay awake. His missing money had kept him awake all night. Since Sophos said that Ambiades had been the only other person in their room that whole evening, he was starting to wonder if he should report the senior student to the dean as a potential thief.
“Ah... bugger,” he muttered, as he realized he'd drained his mug of tea yet again.
The bell rung.
Irene Izmir--he'd looked her up on the campus directory the day before--paid for her drink and took a seat on the retro church pew that was pushed against the far wall, pointedly avoiding looking in his direction.
He pulled his sketchbook out of his shoulder book bag and flipped it open to his most recent drawing. He stood and walked to her table, setting the sketchbook down on the glossy tabletop for her to see.
She didn't appear startled, only glanced up at him with mild irritation before looking down at the sketch. “Are you stalking me?” she asked drily, pressing her bright gold nails into the handmade paper. It was a realistic sketch of her sitting at a table with her legs elegantly crossed; hard lines made in bold charcoal but softened by highlights drawn in soft pencil lead.
Eugenides shrugged. “I'd have to look up the legal definition. Do you like it?” he asked hopefully.
She didn't respond, merely turned the page to the previous drawing--one he'd made of the weeping willows in the park. “Are you an art student?” she wanted to know, looking up at Eugenides once more.
He grimaced and pulled out the chair across from her. “Science major. My dad's a general in the army. Wants me to build the next atom bomb and help him take over the world.” He made a sour face. “Better than the military, anyways...”
The corners of her mouth turned up into a half-smile. “This journal is handmade,” she observed, turning it over and examining the cover.
He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, my mom made those before she died. It was her hobby, making paper and stitching it together to make journals and sketchbooks.
Irene returned his drawings, considering him seriously. “Your mother was an artist?”
He shrugged. “She dabbled. Sold a few paintings here and there. She stayed at home with me and my brothers and sisters for the most part. With my dad's job and everything, we moved around a lot.”
Irene pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “So, what brings you here? To this sleepy campus town?”
Eugenides looked away from Irene to glance briefly out the window. “We lived near this town when my mom died. Thought it'd be a good place to... you know... Discover myself.” He smiled.
She smiled too, almost gently this time.
“So... enough about me,” he said, tapping the table with his knuckles. “You're a professor of...”
“Linguistics. Mediterranean linguistics to be specific. I also teach advanced Latin and Greek to the archeology students.”
“Ah, Latin... Ugh...” he said drily.
She chuckled, showing her large, straight teeth. “I've seen you in the language department near my office. Most students take Spanish or French to fill their foreign language requirement.” She smiled amusedly. “Or at the very least, a language that people are still born speaking somewhere in the world.”
He laughed. “I had a foreign language and a non-western studies requirement. I thought... Hey! Kill two birds with one stone!” He cringed. “I've learned my lesson.”
She laughed at that. Seeing her happy was a refreshing change from her usual expressions of stone and fire.
The milk steamer on the expresso machine turned off, and Lauren called the professor's name, setting her drink down on the counter.
Irene's smile evaporated, suddenly seeming to remember where she was and who she was talking to. “I have to go,” she said abruptly, standing up and swinging her purse over her shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you... umm...”
“Ah, Eugenides,” he said, standing up to shake her hand.
She raised a single eyebrow. “That's a good Greek name.” She nodded approvingly. “It means the well-born. You should be proud of that name...” she lowered her voice, “...along with some other things you may've taken for granted.”
She picked up her drink and waved as she walked out the door.
He watched her leave and picked up his sketchbook, running his fingers across the binding.
-X-X-X-
The moon was at harvest that night, peeking over the top of the hill; it's blood orange color a lull to an insomniac such as himself. Eugenides pressed his fingers to the cool glass. His warm breath misted the pane.
“Gen?” said Sophos, sleepily. “Is something wrong?”
Eugenides didn't shift his gaze away from the window. A mild shrug was his only response. “Do you know why the moon is orange sometimes, Sophos? I can't remember.”
Sophos sat up and pushed back the covers to press his feet flat to the floor. “It's just a refraction of light. It changes the color of the light we see, usually around the autumn equinox and when the moon is rising,” explained Sophos with a yawn.
“So, so, so... Somethings can appear misshapen in translation, hmm?” observed Eugenides cryptically.
“I suppose...” Sophos stared at his roommate curiously. “What's on your mind?”
Eugenides took a deep breath. “Do you think I should report Ambiades to the dean? I think he stole my hundred.”
“Gen...” Sophos began cautiously. “Ambiades is here on a football scholarship. If he gets accused of stealing, it may ruin his chances of graduating.”
“I know that, Sophos...” Eugenides sighed. “That's why I haven't said anything yet.”
“And even if you do talk to the dean, you don't have any proof. Plus, I was in the room the entire time. I would've noticed if he'd-”
“And you never took a bathroom break?” injected Eugenides, his tone biting.
It was Sophos's turn to sigh, and a silence settled over them both.
“Growing up sucks, you know that?” Eugenides said abruptly. Sophos lifted his eyes. “The older you get, the harder it is to tell what's right anymore.”
Sophos snorted. “You can say that again.”
-X-X-X-
A few days later, he decided to ask for advice.
“What's your opinion on stealing?”
Irene's jaw dropped, and she turned sharply to meet his gaze. He nails were painted a deep violet today, and she dig her fingertips into the lip of her paper coffee cup, attempting to secure the lid.
“You've got the wrong size,” he pointed out. “That's a large.”
She looked down and sighed, tossing the lid now smeared with latte froth and wiped her fingers with a compostable napkin. “Should I be concerned, Eugenides?”
“Ah... no... This is not about me.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I was just wondering what would you do if you thought someone took something? Would you report it even if it got them into a lot of trouble?”
Irene bit her lip. “Well... If you do the crime, you do the time. Is this a theoretical question or...?” She sat down, her cup cradled between her hands. Eugenides joined her.
“There's this guy my roommate is friends with,” Eugenides elaborated. “I don't really like him myself, but anyhow, they were playing Medal while I was out-”
“Metal?” Irene interrupted with a confused frown.
“No...” Eugenides shook his head. “Medal of Honor. Anyhow... As I was saying, when I got back, I was missing some money.” He bit his lip. “And I still can't find it.”
Irene took a sip. “Hmm, I suppose he could be the culprit or...” she trailed off and leaned closer. “Or your dislike of him is coloring your opinion. Could anyone else have taken the money?”
Eugenides shrugged. There were locks on the doors and windows, but even so, dorms weren't exactly the most secure places in the world. He really didn't know what to make of the whole thing.
“I think you're a smart kid, Eugenides,” said Irene, nodding considerately. “You'll figure out what the right decision is.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: I'll see if I can get the third and final part up tomorrow. I hope you continue to enjoy!