Comments | thewakelogs: [OPEN ] I showed you kindness, a stool, and a tab

crawfordsands in thewakelogs

[OPEN ] I showed you kindness, a stool, and a tab

Oct 22, 2010 22:06

Who: Crawford, Open
What: There's a new coffee shop in town! Stop by for a cup, if you dare ask the surly man behind the counter for a drink.
Where: City Grind Coffee, Manhattan
When: Friday evening
Warnings: Crawford. So a lot of wearing. Maybe a fight or two will break out, you never know.
Notes: Typical "party" style log. Pop in as you wish, ( Read more... )

!open, † crawford sands, † ned, † agent francis york morgan, † red mist

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policebrand October 23 2010, 07:45:14 UTC

Coffee was just another 'ritual' York liked to keep. He didn't mind Bending his coffee every morning. In fact he found it a lot more convenient than gambling with other people who handled his cup. The times when his coffee was too weak, too watery, too old... It made the FBI Agent disappointed just thinking about it ( ... )

crawfordsands October 23 2010, 18:27:22 UTC

Crawford was exactly where he'd been when he made the post. Feet on the couter, slumped back in his chair with a spiral notebook on his lap. By his feet was a half empty cup of coffee. Hearing the door open, he lifted his head. He didn't recognize the man, but he recognized the attire.

Suits. Why was it always suits? Suits came in the morning, not the evening. So that was weird. Suits usually got plain coffee to go in the largest size. Suits were impatient, picky bastards. Suits were lawyers, detectives, mobsters, stock traders, bankers, politicians, business men. All the people he despised wore suits. So his mood was set. He may have been a little nicer if it had been someone else walking through that door.

"Yeah, what d'you want?" He asked without bothering to get on his feet.

policebrand October 24 2010, 03:51:43 UTC

York could tell that he wasn't welcomed here. The man's body language said everything he needed to know.

"Yes" he said, walking further into the shop. "I'd like some coffee. Regular, please."

crawfordsands October 24 2010, 05:28:57 UTC

He closed the notebook and flopped it down on the counter. It looked like it had seen a lot of use, the edges of the cover bent, the surface covered in scratches. Doodles and notes obscured each other, names jotted down and crossed out. He pulled his feet off the counter, but didn't get up just yet.

"Gonna need a bit more than that, pal. What size?"

policebrand October 25 2010, 08:17:33 UTC

"Medium with cream on the side" he responded, stopping by the counter.

York took notice of the notebook, he was curious to know what was in it. A journal? Perhaps a mesh of short stories? His thoughts had led him to start tapping his collarbone with his index finger.

crawfordsands October 25 2010, 08:35:18 UTC

"Cream's over there," he grumbled as he nodded toward a small table just to the right of the counter. On it was a pair of carafes: one marked "half and half" the other "2%." There was also various kinds of sweeteners and the usual additives.

He turned his back to get the requested coffee. He didn't even bother asking if the man would stick around and just grabbed a paper cup. If York chose to peek at the notebook further he wouldn't find stories or anecdotes. He'd find the chaos that was the network. At least in most of it. However, the back cover and the last few pages were scrawled with what appeared to be song lyrics. Rather poignant and insightful ones at that. Mixed in were what appeared to be sections of music, some for guitar others for piano.

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