vintage.

[thefbiagent]

Patience was a virtue; one that Booth generally lacked. Coffee took time, unfortunately, and so in his past couple years on the island, he’d learned ways to kill time. He was waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, so he headed over to the rec room to find something decent to read; he knew the noises the machine made, and he had a nose for

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[poison_lipstick]

"Well now." Saffron arched an eyebrow with appreciative interest as she looked down at the magazine, one hand light on his shoulders. "You sure do clean up nice, Booth."

[just Booth, pls!]

[thefbiagent]

Booth raised his eyebrows, glancing over his shoulder, mouth slightly open. "Why, Helen, you sound surprised." He grinned, wide and easy.

[poison_lipstick]

Saffron's gaze shifted from the glossy photos to the man himself. "Not at all," she said, smiling, and tapped the page. "Though I am thinking it wouldn't be a hardship to see you dressed like this every now and again."

[thefbiagent]

"Yeah, yeah." He grinned up at her, slightly flushed. "Suits aren't my thing." He paused, glancing down at the photos. "Maybe the clothes box will be generous for the next bash we have." He cocked his head to the side, smiling.

[theunascended]

The pull of a fresh-brewed pot of coffee drew Daniel into kitchen. He pulled himself a mug, poured himself a cup, and closed his eyes, taking a long sip of the hot liquid. All he wanted to do was go away somewhere and convince himself that it was all a dream. That Owen wasn't back and that he hadn't lost all those years on the island and that everything was back to normal.

But he couldn't. He couldn't even falter from his normal routine, because anyone he knew that saw Owen was bound to worry about him.

And, to top it all off, he still couldn't fix his glasses.

He opened his eyes when he heard a familiar voice. "Oh, hey."

[thefbiagent]

He glanced across the kitchen, mouth hanging slightly open. "Hey, Daniel." He took a second glance, brow furrowing with a crooked smile. "Nice glasses."

[theunascended]

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Daniel sent Booth a look and then fidgeted with the glasses again for good measure. "Just because Vala happened to sit on them." He didn't actually mention where they were that she could sit on them. That would just lead Booth to believe something that wasn't true. Namely that he was sleeping with Vala.

He squinted at the magazine. "What's that?"

[thefbiagent]

"Uh," Booth flipped it shut, shrugging. "Nothing, just. Nothing." He smiled at Daniel, hoping to avoid the subject. "Vala sat on your glasses?" He shook his head. "And you probably haven't had a spare second to get down to the optometrist, of course." Now he was just messing with him.

[callmecassandra]

Coffee. A driving force, especially after the day. She wheeled into the kitchen in smooth movements, the fresh-brewed smell on the air. Thank God.

Just when she needed it, too.

When she saw Booth for the second time that day, she couldn't really stop the smile that crept onto her face - and when she wheeled closer and saw what he was looking at - she nearly whistled. "Why, Seeley, I didn't know you had it in you."

Which, like a lot of things, was a lie - but she wouldn't object to him having that suit on, that much she knew.

[thefbiagent]

He turned to Barbara, mouth snapping shut and curling into a weak smile. "I don't know about that; I'm pretty sure you did." His smile grew stronger, eyes twinkling.

[callmecassandra]

She stared at him for a long moment. "I may need a demonstration. To be convinced." She rolled to get herself a cup of coffee, waiting for his response.

What the hell are you doing?

She didn't even know - or if she did, she wasn't willing to admit it.

[thefbiagent]

He opened his mouth in surprise, watching her roll over to the coffee machine. He snapped his mouth shut, leaning back in his chair with a push, still a bit lost. He snapped his mouth shut, pushing himself to his feet to grab her a mug; he'd used the last one that was by the machine. He pulled one down, placing it next to the machine gently as he turned to face her. "A demonstration." He slid his hands in his pockets, watching her levelly, letting her take the lead.

[ihearttomgordon]

Trisha wandered into the kitchen, skin still warm from the sun outside, and sporting her ever present Red Sox cap that kept the majority of the sun off of her lightly freckled face. Mom had taught her early about wearing a hat in the sun, and even though she wasn't here, Trisha was still pretty good about doing it. "Hiya," she said and smiled when she saw the man and the woman who were looking intently at a magazine she couldn't really see. She reached up into the cabinet, standing on her tip toes to get a glass down for water. She was just barely able to reach, but she took it down and filled it up in a small personal triumph.

[Both!]

[heartlikesteel]

Ellen glanced up at the girl crossing in front of her and smiled for a second, pouring a mug of coffee. The girl had pulled down a glass and was reaching for the faucet; Ellen put her mug down quickly, taking the glass from the girl so she wouldn't drop it. "Here," She finished filling it and handed it over. "Didn't want you to drop it."

[thefbiagent]

Booth slapped the magazine closed, watching the woman with the kid. Cute. He sipped his coffee quietly, letting them talk.

[ihearttomgordon]

Trisha looked up at the woman thankfully, although she could have used the help more when she was getting the cup down. Instead of saying so, you weren't supposed to stay stuff like that to adults Dad said, she smiled sweetly. "Thanks!" She took the glass and drank, downing the whole cup. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then looked at the woman. "I'm Trisha," she announced.

[fallen_ancient]

Today she would convince the clothing box to part with something other than white for her, even if she must sing ten thousand year-old arias for a corresponding number of hours. When one wanted to appear alien, authoritative, and powerful, or if one wanted to suggest virginal purity, pristine white was quite functional. When one wanted to attempt integration with a young and disparate human culture, it served nothing to wear only white but to hold her apart and mark her out as separate. And when one was forced, by one's student no less, to wear an enormous blood-red gemstone around one's unblemished throat, one did not require any assistance with standing apart. At least the boots were not also white.Be that as it may, the scent of fresh brewed coffee caught her attention, arresting her progress toward the clothing box. Perhaps she would have more success if she had emulated that which she hoped to achieve by changing the color of her clothing first

[thefbiagent]

"Probably." He raised his eyebrows, smiling crookedly. "There's a whole pot, so one cup is definitely yours." She looked a little tense around the edges, like if someone rubbed her the wrong way, she'd pop. Besides that, she didn't look very much out of place or out of time; this was an odd bunch of people on the island, and things phased him less and less. Nice boots, too.

[fallen_ancient]

"It is not mine yet, as I have neither poured it nor imbibed it." Morgan knew, of course, what he meant, but the smile tempted her to try humor, dry though it might be. "And you cannot have reserved it in my name, as you neither knew I was coming nor knew my name," she added as she glided past him to the coffee maker, eyes lit with quixotic good humor.

After ten thousand years, one learned to dispense with emotions and moods that did not suit like water sliding off mirror glass. If only one learned to dispense with alienness as well.

[thefbiagent]

Booth raised his eyebrows. This woman sounded like Bones. A smile crept onto his face, crooked and fond. "Well, then you'll have to tell me your name so I can reserve it for you in the future." Like riding a bike.