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Post by charlottepage on Feb 15, 2009 18:53:53 GMT 10
Damn mornings... [/font] The morning light shone evilly above Charlotte’s head and into her poor eyes as she drove through the streets of Seattle. Perhaps it was some kind of cosmic retribution for her constant whining about the dreadful weather, or for the many times she’d attempted alarm-clock homicide that particular morning; either way, it was perfectly terrible. Sunglasses would have been a perfect addition to the equation, but mornings never were her strong suit, and she hadn’t even considered the possibility that morning.
Charlotte was on her way to the public library in order to pick up a couple books on the life of Arthur Miller, as she had an essay on him due in a week for her theatre appreciation class. Or, she would have been on the way to the library had she not been driving in precisely the opposite direction; as mentioned, mornings were not her time of day. Her mistake slowly donned on her as she observed the street addresses turning from numbers to old family names and the buildings becoming less and less modern.
“Shit,” she murmured, and stopped rather abruptly, pulling to the side of the road with jerky, half-awake movements. She prepared to make a rather dangerous U-turn, but thought better of it as she considered her current state of alertness, and made a safer but still lacking parallel parking job instead. With slow motions, she removed the keys from the ignition and get out of the car, almost failing to notice a giant SUV speeding past her, its horn blaring. Lacking the energy even to flip the jerk off, she walked around the car onto the slightly safer sidewalk and looked around.
Pioneer Square wasn’t really her usual part of town, and she wasn’t too familiar with the local businesses, but her needs were few and not terribly particular. She had one requirement for her destination: that it served caffeine. The street was stuffed with restaurants, but most of them appeared to be fine dining locations. Charlotte shuffled along the sidewalk for a ways, until she notice a small bakery which seemed rather promising. She stalked inside and headed to the front counter.
“Hello, and welcome to Cinnabear! What can I get you?”chimed a sweet looking gay boy, his pitch slightly too high for her ears.
“I’ll have a chai tea, please,” Charlotte answered, “and could you go ahead and add a couple shots of espresso?”
“Will do. Tired are we? No good starting the day on an empty stomach, can I get you something else? Croissant? Muffin? Cinnamon bun? We have great cinnamon buns. They’re a little fattening, but so worth it.”His perkiness was really starting to get to the brunette, but she didn’t want to be rude, and so smiled weakly and shook her head in response. The kid seemed personally offended by the rejection, and nodded curtly, “That’ll be $5.34”
Charlotte paid him and dropped the change in a tip can next to the register. She made her way toward what appeared to be the only empty table in the place; ten A.M. was apparently the bakery’s rush hour. Placing her weary head in her hands, she pondered the place’s somewhat unfortunate name. Cinnabear was a little cutesy for her taste, but as long as her tea was good she wasn’t about to complain. She might have actually nodded of, because she suddenly heard her order called out.
Jumping up, she hurried to retrieve the drink that would serve as her savior. It was a rather large cup, and satisfactorily warm. Charlotte took a sip before even leaving the counter, and found great joy in the bitter taste of strong caffeine, coming from what seemed to be at least three shots of espresso. She turned around and headed back to her table, and was surprised to find someone else sitting across from the seat she’d previously occupied.
“Oh…uh…hello.”
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Post by colorfullycayenne on Feb 16, 2009 14:19:39 GMT 10
back me down from backing up; hold your breath now it's stacking up;
- - - -
If one was to be entirely honest, which Finn usually tried to be, perhaps this hadn't been the best place to go to do homework. His original plan of action had been to go somewhere he'd never been before and do his homework there, for a little change of scenery. The Cinnabear had looked like an inviting, tolerant if, admittedly, cheesy place, and he'd gone in happily, found the only empty table - how lucky! - and spread out all over it.
Of course, the staff wasn't as tolerant as he'd thought, and after they'd walked by about a dozen times, disapproving frowns on their faces every time, he finally sighed, gathered all of his stuff into his black-and-white checkered messenger bag, and ordered a huckleberry Italian soda - he still couldn't accquaint himself to the taste of coffee, and didn't intend to try any further.
Upon turning back around to face the coffee-shop scene and return to his seat, a large family had claimed his abandoned table. He considered asking them to move, but when the mother shifted and it became obvious to Finn that she was heavily pregnant, he sighed and glanced around the room; luckily, there was another table open. He practically sprinted for it, and up-ended his bag on the table, claiming it as his own, before heavily sitting down, pulling out his copy of RENT (he'd been assigned to memorize the part of someone of the opposite gender of him, and perform it in a week) and sucked noisely on his drink. As such, he almost didn't notice when a woman came back up to the table. He looked up and blushed.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Were you sitting here?"
tags? charlotte! words? two hundred and eighty-four song? straight jacket feeling - the all-american rejects status? complete! other? none.[/font]
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Post by charlottepage on Feb 18, 2009 14:11:15 GMT 10
“Yeah…” Charlotte replied coldly. She was not in the mood for confrontation, but nor was she in the mood for having her table—the only table in the room—stolen from her. The brunette thought she might force the insurgent to move, but her mind sparked at the last moment as she recognized the boy who’d taken over her table: Finny, her favorite little freshmen redhead! How could she not have noticed that adorable freckled face? She marveled that she hadn’t recognized him from the first, but blamed it on her currently questionable level of consciousness. Her eyes widened and she gave him an apologetic look.
“But you can stay, cos you’re a ginger,” she continued, giving him a half smile in hopes of easing any discomfort she’d given him with her initially stony greeting. The girl wasn’t exactly in the mood for company, but if she had to sit with someone—and the lack of available seating meant just that—Finny was as good a person as any; besides, being around others always did have a way of improving her moods.
Charlotte gazed momentarily at a rather peculiar looking bag currently residing in her seat, “Mind if I relocate you’re bag?” Rather than waiting for an answer, Charlotte slid the bag to the floor and eased into the chair in its place. It felt nice to rest her legs, as if she’d been standing for hours rather than six or so minutes, and her tea was already raising her energy level. She leaned her chin upon her hand and yawned quietly, “Hey, I’m sorry if I seem to be acting rude, I just don’t actually exist until around noon. Anyway, it just furthers my theory: There are no bad people, only good people with bad caffeine addictions.” The junior laughed lightly, a sure sign that the end of her anger’s reign was near.
Taking another sip of her tea, she eyed his book, grinning when she recognized the title. It was one of her favorite shows, as it had most all of the most interesting subjects: drugs, homosexuality, stripping, questionable lifestyles, fatal diseases…What more could you ask for? Charlotte was a fan of all things risqué, especially when they were presented in company with song and dance.
“Rent…nice. What’s it for?” she inquired, eager to get the boy talking. The freshman’s evident love for talking was probably Charlotte’s favorite thing about him; he seemed as though he could hold a conversation about absolutely anything, and keep it up for a good amount of time, and his boundless energy was certainly impressive. Most anyone who could match her own energy level found her love simple enough to gain, and Finny was no exception to the rule. [/size]
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Post by colorfullycayenne on Feb 19, 2009 13:12:55 GMT 10
back me down from backing up; hold your breath now it's stacking up;
- - - -
He nodded somewhat belatedly to her question, smiling pleasantly up at her as she seated her self and talked.
"Oh, class," Finn said, folding one of the pages of Rent down and closing the book so that he could focus his full attention on Charlotte. "We've gotta memorize the part of someone of the opposite gender and perform it next week. I'm just on my first read-through, now; I've actually never read or seen it before."
Finn licked his lips then, recalling that the drink in his hands is his, he takes a sip. In fact, he's quite happy to have run into Charlotte. He loves running into people he knows out and about it town; in makes him feel like he belongs and he feels special, popular, and generally cheery. And the fact that it's Charlotte only makes it even more fantastic. She was a nice girl, very forgiving and witty and generally a lot of things he wasn't.
"Don't you hate mornings?" he said suddenly, as that occured to him. "What's got you up at this hour? Don't tell me you did it voluntarily!" He snickered and took another sip of his drink to try and hide it. "Just going very bow-chicka-wow-wow on the day? Get 'er done?"
tags? charlotte! words? two hundred and ten song? straight jacket feeling - the all-american rejects status? complete! other? none.[/font]
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