(no subject)
She was in a cafe when they met. Their meeting wasn't spectacular and she honestly didn't even want to talk to anyone, but he sat at her table and struck up a conversation. He was tall, possibly taller then her if she cared to measure, and blonde with a face that would grace a GQ magazine. He was sweet and charming and so drearily the same as everyone else that had he not made such a great distraction from general boredom, she would have left in a fit of depression.
The young woman noted some attractive ladies at the counter giving him looks that would make an adulteress proud and was warmed by the feeling that she was treading property she had no right to be on. It was during a pause, a natural break in conversation when a topic is rung dry, that she took the time to examine the man across from her in more detail.
As already noted, he was tall and blonde, wearing expensive threads and held himself like he knew he was the hottest thing since Justin Timberlake. The man, David, she really needed to try to remember that, seemed content to sit quietly for the time, looking around slowly, like he was searching for something. His eyes were sharp, and so very blue, and there was a frown taking up space in a crease between his eyes, at odds with the small smile adorning his mouth. Her first thought was to ask if he was ok but when he quickly flicked his eyes to a man in a gray wool long coat walking through the door, twitched slightly, then relaxed, she thought better of it and allowed him to pretend whatever it was he was pretending.
A soft breeze ruffled her hair and the woman turned her head to see a rough looking man walking out of the men's bathroom; she tilted her head, confused and knowing she never saw him go in. He was dressing in mostly black and was short, tittering on the edge of looking hardcore or insane. When his eyes took in the whole room and then settled on David, a half grin, barely there, and walked over, reminding her too much of a stalking cat, she voted insane and was intrigued. When he pulled up a chair and introduced himself as Griffin, she remembered his name and smiled at his accent.
She didn't get much time after that to chat him up though; between the two of them flinging obscure insults and barbs at each other, the lingering hand when the American passed over the coffee menu, and the spilling of about a tablespoon of coffee onto the Brit, which somehow required both of them to go to the bathroom, there were very few words passed her way. And when she noticed a man in a gray overcoat with a briefcase enter the bathroom after them and all three promptly never come back out, well, she figured she didn't want to know.