[This tiny, emaciated little thing looks like she could use an entire plate of cupcakes, or possibly a large bleeding steak if her absolutely unholy paleness is any indication. She accepts a cupcake with pleasure, however, and goes to sit by the window to eat the frosting off with her fingers before moving on to the cake and maybe considering ordering some tea.
A bit of frosting escapes her, falls on her rather strangely elegant and old-fashioned white dress, lace at the hems, white embroidery, pleats, flounce, high collar, and she quietly whets a napkin and dabs it up before it stains.]
[There's something about the woman across the shop that Haydn can't stop staring because of, finding himself in a position to awkwardly duck his head every time she even glances anywhere in his vague direction. A guilty weight settles in his stomach and he stares determinedly down at his own cupcake, chocolate, hardly touched, before peeking a glance through the bronze curl of his eyelashes.]
[She is mostly oblivious to this, at first. She is very engaged in wiping up globs of the peachy colored frosting with her fingers and them sucking it off with pursed lips. She has beautiful hands, scrubbed clean with perfectly manicured nails, their gloss shines in the lighting every time she moves them. Her back is to the majority of the room, and thus it barely occurs to her anyone might be watching.
Innocence is her way. Plays at it masterfully though it has been a long time since it belonged to her. She had her first child at sixteen, killed her husband that year too. Ate the baby later. But innocence requires more than just obliviousness. She looks up when she's run out of frosting, absentmindedly, sees his hesitant glance and lets a faint flush rise into her cheeks, a tiny little smile.]
[The smile when their eyes catch is something Haydn would normally recoil from, burned and uncertain, but he doesn't and the reason behind it is foreign to him. He's a young boy, swayed by pretty people and soft faces, even if the only face he's been dreaming of is a man likely lost to him forever.
She's still compelling and he can't keep back, gathers up his uneaten confectionery to toss out, and on his way back finds her at her table.] --Hi.
[ If there's one thing Genevieve loves, it's a good cupcake. She's picked out a chair outside at one of the tables and is now leaning down, closely inspecting the pastry in front of her-- a white cupcake, with pink frosting, and circular sprinkles. Perfection. Art.
She almost can't bring herself to actually eat the thing. ]
[Dog is grumpy because he has been asked not to smoke inside this cute little restaurant and the coffee he's got in front of him isn't fucking helping any. He snorts.]
It's fer eatin'. Don't eat it, it'll jus' rot and be ruined anyhow.
[ Brendan has never been to a place like this before. Or if he has, he no longer remembers it. The lost time -- the time in between the spaces of being awake -- is hard to sift through because it never seems to have proper shape. Even without a sense of just how long it's been, Brendan knows it's been a while. Surely, in all that time, he's seen something like this. In the back of his mind there is a tiny voice that tells him that yes you have seen everything, but he ignores it, just like he ignores the strange hollow feeling in his chest and that floating sense of deja vu that hangs over everyone.
Rubbing the tip of his nose with the flat of his palm, he ducks his head and looks into one of the nearly painted windows. Just because he can't starve doesn't mean he's not hungry. He waits until the traffic through the entrance recedes before ducking inside, pulling the crooked hat from the top of his head. ]
[Really. She wants all of it. Every last delicious baked good in this place, she wants to eat it. Honey and sugar and nuts and she's just in heaven, hovering over the display case hungrily. She's tossed that damn butterfly thing and is absentmindedly licking the frosting off the top as she bends in to peer at something. That's probably right about when she hits you with her ass, Brendan.
She glances back, mostly unconcerned, but willing to apologize. She straightens up with a smile then.]
[ Brendan clears his throat awkwardly (he's not really capable of doing things any way but) when the stranger's ass ends bumping against his hip, but his face quickly reddens (freckles darkening) when she actually says hello. He gets that tug again, that feeling that tells him you know her, you do. Raising an apologetic hand he dips his head to say sorry. ]
M'sorry, me? [ He looks around before realizing that yes it's obviously him. ] Oh. Hi.
[Oh, that's cute. She bites her lower lip a moment, thoughtfully, trying suppress a grin. It's a little too crowded to have a conversation here so she gives him her A++ flirty smile and steps out of the way, calling over her shoulder,]
[It's complicated to say what a man of his stature and poise would intend to be doing in a place quite like this, but he's here, dressed in a fine business suit, brown leather loafers, wearing a diplomatic smile as he gives his hello to the woman behind the counter.
When she offers a cupcake, he politely declines, orders hot coffee instead.]
-slowly and methodically rapes everyone here.-bled_soJanuary 7 2010, 20:28:26 UTC
[He just can't get a fucking break can he. It really has to be Daddy Asshole there across the cafe. It just has to be. Jack hasn't bothered to sleep properly in three (four? ...five?) days and had come here to drink coffee and try to eat something and it. Just has to be.
Jack considers throwing his plate at the man and then leaving. (Interesting things occur to a fatigued mind, hmm?) But he wants the scone. Is pretty sure it's all he's going to get down (and some weak tea, this coffee is a battle that's going to end with him puking.) Jack just... puts his head in his hands and hopes it goes away.]
you little slutcorpgodJanuary 7 2010, 20:39:42 UTC
[A brief moment of surprise creases the line of the man's brow when he spots that familiar face just before it goes tucked away into weak pale fingers. He remembers giving the boy a tour of his house, that poor unwilling guest who was a 'friend' of his son's and who had a bitter, quicksilver tongue to fight with. It was all in good humor, if only the boy hadn't taken it quite so seriously.
It's in good manners, then, that Master Mallory approaches the other's table and stands beside it, fingers tapping gently, as if to draw Jack's attention to him without being verbal about it.]
Well, I was not expecting to see you here. I'm only sorry my son didn't come along, or else you'd have his company instead.
yes 8< and you love me.bled_soJanuary 7 2010, 20:50:26 UTC
[Jack looks up. He looks angry and miserable at the best of times, but he looks miserable now. Gaunt features turned slightly ashen around his cheeks and bruised under his eyes. He doesn't know why he does this to himself. Maybe because he isn't willing to kill himself with the pills yet, so he'll cut them off cold turkey a week, puke and suffer and hurt himself (is there a surprise there?) and then when he goes back he'll take less of them, maybe even only the recommended dose until he's back to popping them at parties just to keep himself entertained.]
I'm not.
[June, possibly, would have been even more insufferable. If it were him Jack imagines he might have thrown his scalding coffee in the fuckers face by now. Daddy Jerkoff is just a pompous self-important prick, Jack can deal with those.]
[Since the new year, Niarkhos has been visiting the cities more often, journey through air less often; most of his flights are meant to seek out Jast, or another of the bird acquaintances he's made among the countless decades, but lately he's favored his own two feet. For places like this, elegant and sweet-smelling, warm at its center, a familiar French over-atmosphere.
He doesn't find anything to eat, doesn't like much else outside of what he hunts, and sits in the back of the room with tea, watching the commotion around him.]
[The fact that the cupcakes are free is an exciting one to Jast. He's sure, if he asked, Fallen would have given him the money to buy something, but Jast is shy about asking when it's for himself. He accepts the cupcake, hesitantly asks for one with yellow frosting... just. Just because and the nice woman gives it to him with a smile and he flushes uncertainly but smiles back.
He hasn't had a cupcake in a long time. Hasn't eaten more than nuts and berries in at least forty years or so. He isn't sure he'll be able to eat all of it, but he'll taste it, at least. He wanders back out of the bakery to head back to the golems, but... he stops. Peering in the window again, bending down to look under the writing on it. He stares at the bird thoughtfully, just watching.]
[It's the sense of Jast's presence, the calm curling blue lakewater of his moods when Niarkhos is his most frustrated, that draws his attention soon as the boy enters the room. But he doesn't move to intercept him, knows Jast isn't much for lingering in places like this and as much as he wants to reach out and call him over, monopolize the boy's time, the bird resists, fondly smiling, knows Jast has others to return to.
But the eyes from the window catch him, and surprised, he tilts his head. He's close enough to the cold pane, reaches out a hand and taps a finger against it. Grinning lightly, amused.]
[Jast startles slightly. He wasn't going to pester him, was just going to bird watch, but he's been spotted and wonders what he should do now. He thinks maybe he wants to go back inside, but maybe not, it's busy in there. But he... smiles back slowly before he slips back in through the door, dodges clumsy, hungry mortals and finds his friend in his safe little place at the back of the room.]
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A bit of frosting escapes her, falls on her rather strangely elegant and old-fashioned white dress, lace at the hems, white embroidery, pleats, flounce, high collar, and she quietly whets a napkin and dabs it up before it stains.]
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Innocence is her way. Plays at it masterfully though it has been a long time since it belonged to her. She had her first child at sixteen, killed her husband that year too. Ate the baby later. But innocence requires more than just obliviousness. She looks up when she's run out of frosting, absentmindedly, sees his hesitant glance and lets a faint flush rise into her cheeks, a tiny little smile.]
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She's still compelling and he can't keep back, gathers up his uneaten confectionery to toss out, and on his way back finds her at her table.] --Hi.
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She almost can't bring herself to actually eat the thing. ]
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But-- then it'll be ruined.
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It's fer eatin'. Don't eat it, it'll jus' rot and be ruined anyhow.
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Rubbing the tip of his nose with the flat of his palm, he ducks his head and looks into one of the nearly painted windows. Just because he can't starve doesn't mean he's not hungry. He waits until the traffic through the entrance recedes before ducking inside, pulling the crooked hat from the top of his head. ]
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She glances back, mostly unconcerned, but willing to apologize. She straightens up with a smile then.]
Hey there, cutie.
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M'sorry, me? [ He looks around before realizing that yes it's obviously him. ] Oh. Hi.
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You should come sit with me.
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When she offers a cupcake, he politely declines, orders hot coffee instead.]
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Jack considers throwing his plate at the man and then leaving. (Interesting things occur to a fatigued mind, hmm?) But he wants the scone. Is pretty sure it's all he's going to get down (and some weak tea, this coffee is a battle that's going to end with him puking.) Jack just... puts his head in his hands and hopes it goes away.]
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It's in good manners, then, that Master Mallory approaches the other's table and stands beside it, fingers tapping gently, as if to draw Jack's attention to him without being verbal about it.]
Well, I was not expecting to see you here. I'm only sorry my son didn't come along, or else you'd have his company instead.
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I'm not.
[June, possibly, would have been even more insufferable. If it were him Jack imagines he might have thrown his scalding coffee in the fuckers face by now. Daddy Jerkoff is just a pompous self-important prick, Jack can deal with those.]
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He doesn't find anything to eat, doesn't like much else outside of what he hunts, and sits in the back of the room with tea, watching the commotion around him.]
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He hasn't had a cupcake in a long time. Hasn't eaten more than nuts and berries in at least forty years or so. He isn't sure he'll be able to eat all of it, but he'll taste it, at least. He wanders back out of the bakery to head back to the golems, but... he stops. Peering in the window again, bending down to look under the writing on it. He stares at the bird thoughtfully, just watching.]
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But the eyes from the window catch him, and surprised, he tilts his head. He's close enough to the cold pane, reaches out a hand and taps a finger against it. Grinning lightly, amused.]
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Hello.
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