I'm bringing sexy back, those other boys don't know how to act.

[whysosexeh]

In a quiet restaurant (not that one- that one is still cinders) on a rainy day in Chicago, there is a young man in a corner booth, wearing a hoodie. If you were close enough to really notice such things (and lots of people find it very hard not to want to get that close- the waitress keeps hovering and has refilled his coffee cup more times than is

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[please_see_me]

Dusty is very lucky that at least ONE of the waitresses in this little restaurant is supernatural of some sort, because they can see her, which means she can come and order grilled cheese and stuff, when she's got a little extra pocket money. She thinks she should probably try to get a job, but she was gonna ask Miss Ariel about that, and now she's dead, and a lady named Martha Jones owns the hotel now, she heard, and Miss Grace says she's real nice and all, but she's never met her, and it's just kinda weird, so she's putting that off for now, and having a grilled cheese and a chocolate milkshake.

Also, there's a guy that she kinda has been watching the whole time. She scribbled something on a napkin and begged her waitress to take the napkin to the guy - and Dusty's got those eyes that the devil himself couldn't say no to, so the note is delivered.

Hi! I'm the blonde girl eating the grilled cheese and chocolate shake.
Will you come sit with me?

Circle one:
Y/N/Maybe

[whysosexeh]

The waitress delivers the napkin and Clint looks it over. Dear God, that is a high school mentality if he's ever saw one. He searches the restaurant for the guilty party and... Oh. Oh.

Well, fuck. There should be an age limit on this stupid ability, because he really doesn't want to feel like a creeper, but he's always been really good with kids- he used to do abstinence and safe sex seminars at high schools (the irony is not lost on him), so asks to borrow the waitress's pen and circles the Y and hands it back for her to take it over to the girl.

Right. Now he just has to get through a conversation with a teenage girl without looking like a freak.

[please_see_me]

Dusty can't help but grin a little idiotically when she gets the note back, and quickly busies herself making sure that there's room for him and that he won't be sitting on her coat or anything.

And then she waits.

And the narration totally didn't get back to this two weeks late.

[whysosexeh]

Clint gathers up his food and walks over to her table, trying to smile in a way that doesn't make him look freakishly sketchy or horrible. Of course, if he knew she was a Children's Angel, he'd realize that he just looks weird for talking to thin air.

"Hi. I'm Clint. Guess this seat's mine, huh?" He sits down, making a point to arrange his food and iced tea in a specific way, more to keep his hands busy than anything. Awkward Clint is awkward. It's kind of adorable... And sexy.

[raaaghsoangreh]

Marc's been in a bad mood ever since he showed up in this place. He can't find his fucking center, so forget about meditation. He can't even manage to be happy. He's tried for content, and even then he can only manage depressed verging on pissed off -- and that's at his best.

Really, he just wants his girlfriend, his cats, and for life to be normal. He'll settle for some pasta or something.

Only there's this guy in the restaurant. This hot guy. And Marc's not the type of guy to check other guys out, but damn.

Questioning his sexuality pisses him off. This whole place pisses him off.

He moves over to where the guy's sitting, and just stares for a minute. Angrily.

"What. The. Fuck?"

Not the best introduction, but he's in a really bad mood.

[whysosexeh]

THIS IS NOT THE REACTION CLINT USUALLY GETS. CUE AWKWARD STARING IN FIVE... FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE.

STARE, CLINT, STARE.

"Um.... What?"

This guy is terrifying. He looks like one of those guys who used to punch him in the kidneys in school and laugh about it... Not that this guy appears to ever laugh. In fact, he kinda looks like maybe he sold all the muscles it requires for smiling to happen to Satan.

He smiles nervously, but somehow even that comes out as painfully teeth-glinty. "I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" Other than, uh, reek of horrible sex pheromones?

[raaaghsoangreh]

And god, the guy's even harder to resist close up. Fuck.

"Why does everyone fucking think I'm about to TRY AND FUCKING KILL THEM OR SOMETHING?" He didn't miss that nervousness, oh no. "That's not the fucking point! You're... I'm fucking straight. As the proverbial arrow. Nothing against anyone who isn't, okay? I'm from fucking SAN FRANSISCO! But you wanna explain to me why the fuck me and everyone else in this place suddenly wants to get into your PANTS?"

Marc takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. He fails, of course, but he makes a valiant attempt. "Been here a month, and I'm pissed off all the time for no fucking reason, so while I'm sure you're a GREAT FUCKING GUY, the last thing I need is ONE MORE FUCKING THING MESSING WITH MY ZEN!"

He slams a fist down on the table, making it shake, and there's a distinct cracking noise. "I JUST WANTED SOME GODDAMN PASTA! And now it's all I can do to restrain myself and only punch INANIMATE OBJECTS! This is SO FUCKED UP!"

[whysosexeh]

Clint scoots back a little in the booth, still grinning nervously, because maybe if he keeps smiling, he will not die a painful, bludgeoning death.

"I didn't say anything about you trying to kill me.. Sir!" Yeah, because being nervous totally helps that along. "...Please don't hit me." That also doesn't help.

He looks around. Are there people staring? There are so people staring. He makes a small noise and holds up his hands in a defensive posture as if somehow that will keep the rage away. "Okay, okay. I can see that you have a lot of anger... That's a.... A month?" Oh, it couldn't be.

"I've, uh, been here a month too, actually. Ever since then, everyone has been, well, rather attracted to me. It's kind of funny actually... There was even a cat here earlier who ate my eggs and talked to me. Really weird city, this." If he had a collar, he'd be pulling it. As it stands, he just twists his hoodie in his hands, exposing the beginnings of a pair of six pack abs

[prince_stupid]

Ragnar is in ur cafe, stealin' ur leftovers. He was drawn inside after peeking in the window. And he is now being drawn to a particular table, which is strange, considering said table is still occupied. It is difficult to be subtle when stealing scraps from under someone's nose.

He slides under Clint's table. He inspect's Clin't shoe. He paws at Clint's leg.

"I beg your pardon, but are you quite finished?"

[whysosexeh]

Clint blinks and looks underneath the table... And oh hell no. If the cats are stalking him now, he's had it. Absolutely had it. And why is the cat talking to him anyway?

"Uh..." He blinks, looks at his plate of bacon and eggs (Clint likes breakfast food for lunch and this restaurant happens to serve breakfast all around). He's been staring at it instead of eating it, because the waitress seems to have arranged it so that it looks like a winking smiley face.

...He's not sure he wants to eat it. He lifts the plate off the table and puts it down on the floor. "Knock yourself out."

"Help yourself, kitty."

[prince_stupid]

Ragnar applies himself to the food with gusto, completely oblivious to the winking face. Perhaps because cats only wink when they are sleepy or have something in their eye.

He pauses to lick his lips and peers up at Clint again. "You are an odd specimen of humanity, young human. I hope I am not out of line in saying this, for I believe it is an observation that needs to be made."

[whysosexeh]

Clint blinks a few times, continuing to stare at the cat with an expression of utter bewilderment.

"I'd like to think I'm pretty.. Average. I mean besides the whole talking to cats thing... Are people staring?" That question is mostly rhetorical and he peers over the table to see that, yes, people are staring, but probably not for that reason. He sighs and sticks his head under the table again.

Well, okay, maybe the pheromones make him a little odd, but he tries to ignore those.

[tryandmakemedie]

Noah has a thing for attractive guys. And girls. And rocks. And trains, planes and automobiles.

He doesn't do very well with sex pheromones.

So, um, here, Clint. Have an already overly-sexual demon walking very quickly at you, a sort of glazed grin on his face. Thank god there aren't many psychics in the vicinity, or they would need some serious brainbleach.

[whysosexeh]

Clint sees the danger coming and he jolts upright in his seat, because.... Fuck, fuck, fuck... Literally, fuck. This is the sort of thing he's kind of avoided for a month, and how exactly are you supposed to explain to someone that you're not interested and would they please go molest someone else (although, really, you shouldn't molest anyone- that's bad) without seeming, well, rude... I mean, he's the one giving off the sexy vibes. Yes, because it's totally Clint's fault the Rift hates him.

"Please, Sir, I don't want any trouble. Could you just... Turn around and pretend you didn't see me? In fact, I'll totally leave. Right now."

[tryandmakemedie]

Noah giggles. Yes, giggles, like a little girl.

"Oh my dear," he schmoozes, reaching out a finger because he'd just like to make sure that this perfect specimen is actually real, "you leaving is not necessary. Not in the least." He grins and giggles a little more, the giggles getting farther in his throat until they become small growls. Of love, the narration is sure. Or something.

[whysosexeh]

THIS DUDE IS CRAZY, YO.

Touching. Baaaad touching. He's done lectures about this kind of thing at schools and he's pretty sure none of his aspirations in college were 'being raped by a crazy guy in a restaurant.' And, uh, why is no one doing anything?

"No, I think it's very necessary." He's just going to try to... Slide out of the booth now and, uh... run.