Wireless headphones! You know the best part of wireless headphones? The fact that you can walk from the bus to your house without ever really hearing much of anything ever
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A rather gawky looking young man looked down at the poor girl and offered a hand.
"Are you all right?"
Bright green green eyes looked, well, a little worried about her. A few steps behind him, a little black Newfoundland puppy toddled curiously to see what her daddy was doing.
She glanced down to his hands and then ... well, shoved the jacket into the giant bag and set it back on the floor.
The bag will fit everything. Laptop, scarf, and coat.
"Er, no. I mean you're ..." And she looked at his hands once more before tossing her arms around him in a very well-meant (but probably balance-destroying) hug. She was short, she had a lower centre of balance than other people. Impromptu hugs were rather dangerous.
"Uh, you're Liir, is what I meant." Because he wasn't Seph -- too many fingers.
Gabriel -- neat hair, sweater-vest, tea and a book, at a table near the front door, hi -- regards her for several seconds, with the somewhat judgemental pinpoint stare that's part of the reason he didn't really have friends at school. It's the kind of guarded expression that tries very hard not to give away anything about the person doing the staring.
She sheds the bag, jacket, and sweater underneath (just the right day to wear the DNA t-shirt, apparently) before she glances over to him again, considerably less ... fangirl-ish.
"Uh, well. I mean -- end of the universe, right?" Because unless she managed to get really lucky and have her house actually turn into a bar where gorgeous celebrities hang out ... that's the only thing that can make sense.
She's still kind of just standing next to the doorway, though, because sitting down means awkwardly climbing up onto the stools (4'11" is a tricky height).
Would he be more happy with a girl who's only (okay, three isn't really 'only') a little older than Shilo?
It's more of a duck and less of a vain-attempt-at-dodging that ends with her landing hard on her back. There's a moment of struggling to get the backpack off and then a scramble to check the laptop, because she swears to God...
"...if that was fucking Brian I am going to give his computer a virus." But when she glances up, uh.
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"Are you all right?"
Bright green green eyes looked, well, a little worried about her. A few steps behind him, a little black Newfoundland puppy toddled curiously to see what her daddy was doing.
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...it kind of still sounded like turtle? She blinked hard and nodded, taking his hand to stand up and peeling off the bag and the gigantic jacket.
She got hot really quickly. "Uh, so this is -- wow."
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"Er... what's a turtleer? Is it like a turtle?"
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The bag will fit everything. Laptop, scarf, and coat.
"Er, no. I mean you're ..." And she looked at his hands once more before tossing her arms around him in a very well-meant (but probably balance-destroying) hug. She was short, she had a lower centre of balance than other people. Impromptu hugs were rather dangerous.
"Uh, you're Liir, is what I meant." Because he wasn't Seph -- too many fingers.
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Gabriel -- neat hair, sweater-vest, tea and a book, at a table near the front door, hi -- regards her for several seconds, with the somewhat judgemental pinpoint stare that's part of the reason he didn't really have friends at school. It's the kind of guarded expression that tries very hard not to give away anything about the person doing the staring.
Evenly: "Don't look at the Window."
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She sheds the bag, jacket, and sweater underneath (just the right day to wear the DNA t-shirt, apparently) before she glances over to him again, considerably less ... fangirl-ish.
"Uh, well. I mean -- end of the universe, right?" Because unless she managed to get really lucky and have her house actually turn into a bar where gorgeous celebrities hang out ... that's the only thing that can make sense.
She's still kind of just standing next to the doorway, though, because sitting down means awkwardly climbing up onto the stools (4'11" is a tricky height).
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It has quite alot to do with all the recent visitors, but the visitors-quite a few as a matter of fact-have brought rather disquieting news.
He is not happy that he's the brainchild of a man who wrote music for pornography. Not by a long shot. so he is...slipping.
Repo doesn't like being caged, but he's forbidden from working so he paces around the bar and occasionally collides-
Just like what's about to happen here! Want to avoid a pissed ASH lookalike? duck quick! :D
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It's more of a duck and less of a vain-attempt-at-dodging that ends with her landing hard on her back. There's a moment of struggling to get the backpack off and then a scramble to check the laptop, because she swears to God...
"...if that was fucking Brian I am going to give his computer a virus." But when she glances up, uh.
"...wow. Uh, hi."
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Nathan is nothing if not polite, "...It's getting the point that you can't walk around in here."
He straightens his jacket lapel, "....Not your fault. Bar's grabbing quite alot of people lately."
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Because HOLY GOD this is Nathan Wallace for fuck's sake.
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