Declan guesses this might be Auggie. Kate's mentioned him a few times as a friend of hers and, of course, mentioned he was blind and if he is Kate's friend, Declan feels pretty damned obligated to help. That, and he would anyway because he's a good sort and that's what good sorts do.
"Yeah, want me to get it for you or direct you to it instead? It's about three steps to your left, I'd say, so you're just a couple clicks from getting sorted."
Auggie doesn't expect to be pointed toward it. He actually appreciates the directions more than the stranger probably would ever expect, because there's something humiliating about being that close to what he wants and still needing someone to give it over. So he follows what he says, and sure enough, there it is. Whoever made the coffee probably had left it out after using it.
"Thanks," he replies, his tone deflating into something that's a lot more weary than anything else. Once he's done, he considers going to put the jar back, but realizes it might still be needed. "There's still coffee left if you were looking for some."
"Yeah, I kind of assumed, but I figured I'd mention it anyway," he replies. He's from northern England, if he'd take a guess, and Auggie's usually pretty good with picking the regions out. He eventually decides to just push the jar back a little so it isn't so close to the edge, then turns to lean against the counter.
"If you're a cliche, I guess so am I," he points out, pausing to take a sip. He likes to think he has so many cups of these during the day because the cups themselves are so small right now, but he's well aware he could've used an IV drip of the stuff back home at work. "With how everything is now, I'm surprised this place is even letting coffee exist."
Yeah, he still might be a little bitter about the change. He doesn't actually even dislike feeling like he's in a city again for a little while, but there's too many variables he's just never going to get used to.
Daphne didn't have to be in earshot, just close enough to see his lips. "Sugar?" she repeated. "Sure." She walked over to where the container was sitting and picked it up, bringing it to Auggie and touching it lightly against his hand. "Here you go." She paused, then added, "Are you okay?"
Auggie feels guilty the second he realizes who had been behind him. It's not as though Daphne heard his tone of voice, but that really isn't the point. And obviously with the question, he still looks like he's currently feeling.
"Bad morning, that's all," he replies simply when she asks, offering her a small grin to show he is, in fact, okay in general. And he is, mostly, though it's hard to remember that when it feels like this place is conspiring against him. With the sugar now in hand, he pours a scoop into his coffee, though he makes a note to make sure he's still glancing over in the direction of her voice. "How have you been?"
Daphne accepted the explanation, figuring if Auggie wanted to tell her more, he would. And sometimes mornings just were bad for no particular reason. "I've been all right. Keeping busy. You?" She leaned against the counter and watched him, smiling faintly. Bad morning or not, she was glad she'd run into him.
"Getting used to the apparent winter wonderland that's been dumped on everyone," he replies, leaning against the counter once he's done. He takes a sip to test if it's how he wants it, then glances over at her again. "And I thought I left this weather behind."
Auggie looks out of sorts when Kate stalks into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She doesn't blame him. The mistletoe has been stalking her since she got up. If she has to kiss one more damned person who isn't her boyfriend today, she's going to break something.
"Vertical ten o'clock," Kate answers instead of getting the sugar for him. He doesn't need her help, just her eyes. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."
For what it's worth, the comment gets what is probably the first smile of the morning out of him. Which is probably saying something about the morning in general, but he doesn't dwell on it regardless. Instead, he follows the direction he's given, and sure enough, it's exactly where
"Take it easy on me, I've only had one of these so far and these cups are small," he replies, stirring in the sugar and turning around after he does, facing her general direction. "Thanks, though. Wasn't really looking forward to finding it myself in here."
"Seriously. My kingdom for a venti Starbucks mug." Not that she's a fan of Starbucks or any of the rest of the evil empire. It's just a convenient size reference.
She brushes past him - after checking to make sure there's no mistletoe anywhere in sight (not that that's worked yet, but she has to try) - and snags one of the ridiculously tiny china cups. "And think nothing of it. I'm only helping so you'll get out from between me and the coffee pot." There's enough of a smile on her mouth and in her eyes that she's pretty sure Auggie can hear it. In case not, she nudges his non-coffee arm with the back of her wrist, teasing.
"And here I thought it was out of the kindness of your heart," he says with a disappointed sigh, barely hiding the smirk that follows. He does shift down the counter to give her some more room, anyway. "Enjoying the weather?"
There's no denying that things have been a little tense with Auggie since the thing with the mistletoe. She'd have to be completely oblivious not to notice that, but at the same time, she doesn't want to overstep any boundaries at this point, cross any lines when things are already so touch-and-go between them. But she also can't help but notice he's having some difficulty with the fact that the island is completely changed. It took him about a day to get a handle on the hut - and that was only after she'd made conscious decisions not to move anything out of place to where he couldn't find them. But she only has so much control in her ability to help him out these days, and the space they're putting between each other doesn't really allow for her to do more, as much as she wishes she could
( ... )
He realizes it's Annie only after he basically snaps at her. It's a realization that drains the attitude right out of him, because he's well aware that she of all people isn't someone he should take his frustration out on, not with how patient she's been with him. How patient she always is with him. While he hears her looking for the sugar, he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the bad mood, if only for her sake.
"Annie, hey," he says when he feels her hand the sugar over, and by then, his expression is softer. She's almost trailed by the familiar smell of detergent, so he asks, "Laundry run?"
She can't imagine being in his shoes, not even for a day or two. Closing her eyes on occasion to try and mimic the loss of that sense winds up doing screwy things with her focus, and even though he seems so very relaxed on most days, she knows now how much concentration it takes, the kind of anticipation and memory he has to consider if he's on his own without any assistance. So, really, as far as she's concerned, he's entitled to a little frustration, even if she knows he doesn't mean to direct his terseness at her.
"Clothes box," she explains, reaching for a clean cup for herself and glancing at him briefly. "If the island thinks I'm running around in dresses for the entire month of December, it's got another thing coming."
"How very progressive of you," he teases lightly, hiding a genuine grin in his first sip. For as strange as it's been between them, he can't really deny her presence usually has the uncanny ability to put him in a better mood, and it's no different now. He doesn't bother putting the sugar away, already assuming she'll be taking some of the coffee he knows is left. Leaning against the counter, he waits for her to join him. "Any luck with it or are you still going to be forced to be vaguely bell-shaped?"
Luce glances over her shoulder at the new voice, smiling when she sees it's Auggie and giving pause when she hears the tone of his voice. She's dressed in her usual new wear -- suspenders and breeches and a billowing linen shirt -- men's wear, but what she prefers. She cups the sugar in her palm and wanders over to his side to press it there. "Say please," she whispers, warmly.
The person doesn't answer immediately, but he has a good idea of who it is even before she says a word. The request brings a small, half-grin to his face as he shakes his head.
"Well if I have to have manners," he says with a sigh, glancing toward the voice. "Please?"
"That sounds much nicer," Luce says, chipper to the point that she's aware she's going overboard. She encloses the sugar in his palm completely. "You look like you need something more than just coffee, though. Snack? Dinner? Bottle of vodka?"
"Don't tempt me," he says with a quiet snort, putting his cane aside once she hands him the sugar so he can put his drink together. He probably should look for food, but the effort doesn't really seem appealing. So he settles for coffee in the tiny china cups this place has, and he turns to lean against the counter to sip the drink. "Little early for dinner, though."
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"Yeah, want me to get it for you or direct you to it instead? It's about three steps to your left, I'd say, so you're just a couple clicks from getting sorted."
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"Thanks," he replies, his tone deflating into something that's a lot more weary than anything else. Once he's done, he considers going to put the jar back, but realizes it might still be needed. "There's still coffee left if you were looking for some."
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"Coffee gets me too wired and that's bad in the field. Old habits die hard."
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"If you're a cliche, I guess so am I," he points out, pausing to take a sip. He likes to think he has so many cups of these during the day because the cups themselves are so small right now, but he's well aware he could've used an IV drip of the stuff back home at work. "With how everything is now, I'm surprised this place is even letting coffee exist."
Yeah, he still might be a little bitter about the change. He doesn't actually even dislike feeling like he's in a city again for a little while, but there's too many variables he's just never going to get used to.
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"Bad morning, that's all," he replies simply when she asks, offering her a small grin to show he is, in fact, okay in general. And he is, mostly, though it's hard to remember that when it feels like this place is conspiring against him. With the sugar now in hand, he pours a scoop into his coffee, though he makes a note to make sure he's still glancing over in the direction of her voice. "How have you been?"
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"Vertical ten o'clock," Kate answers instead of getting the sugar for him. He doesn't need her help, just her eyes. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."
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"Take it easy on me, I've only had one of these so far and these cups are small," he replies, stirring in the sugar and turning around after he does, facing her general direction. "Thanks, though. Wasn't really looking forward to finding it myself in here."
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She brushes past him - after checking to make sure there's no mistletoe anywhere in sight (not that that's worked yet, but she has to try) - and snags one of the ridiculously tiny china cups. "And think nothing of it. I'm only helping so you'll get out from between me and the coffee pot." There's enough of a smile on her mouth and in her eyes that she's pretty sure Auggie can hear it. In case not, she nudges his non-coffee arm with the back of her wrist, teasing.
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"Annie, hey," he says when he feels her hand the sugar over, and by then, his expression is softer. She's almost trailed by the familiar smell of detergent, so he asks, "Laundry run?"
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"Clothes box," she explains, reaching for a clean cup for herself and glancing at him briefly. "If the island thinks I'm running around in dresses for the entire month of December, it's got another thing coming."
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"Well if I have to have manners," he says with a sigh, glancing toward the voice. "Please?"
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