savetheearth | ACTION | ❝ you don't have to go home but you can't stay here ❞

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ACTION | ❝ you don't have to go home but you can't stay here ❞

[Let's go the multiple choice route ~~like a bad dating sim that leads nowhere.~~]

❶ morning; coffee shop

At the counter, you'll notice Elle digging through her purse and paying for the cheapest drink in spare change. Damn, is she short a nickel again? She's just trying to justify hogging a table for the free wi-fi so she can get her paper done. Never mind all the weird chat windows and video feeds constantly popping up or the weird texts to her phone. She has responsibilities, ok?

❷ noon; still at the coffee shop

The lunch rush is pouring in and there's a desperate need to clear the tables. It sure is awkward being asked to leave by the manager. What do? A little intervention would help but the kindness of strangers is a myth, isn't it?

❸ closing time; yep still at the coffee shop

Look she just has one page left to polish? Can't you just let her stay ten more minutes despite the fact that she's only bought one small coffee but stayed almost 12 hours? This isn't awkward to watch at all. To think she was on top of the world barely six years ago and now she's been reduced to this.

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[He's not even surprised anymore, really, to find himself back to wiping down the tables at the coffee shop come closing time. It's probably the only job he has that he's managed to keep for more than a month, which is pretty sad once you think about it.

Anyway, he's just going to lean on her table a little, with the rag in hand.]

You know it's closing time, right?

[ So apparently drinking martinis isn't allowed on the job in America, even when you're technically just a guest and it's only one, it's not like I'm getting plastered in my office but fine, whatever. He can cope. Even when the bloody coffee machine is broken and the nearest place he's able to get any is a few miles off base, he can still cope. Casval Mass is an adaptable man. He can adapt.

The bell gives a delightful jingle when he passes through the door that he is not at all delighted at, and he makes a quick sweep to the front counter, not even bothering to look up from his high-tech little handheld gadget when he barks his order. He's being far more flippant now than the young woman suffering some serious badgering in the corner was all day, but nonetheless the closing staff scramble to throw his order together, tall Americano, extra shot of espresso, and would you mind tossing a little cream and sugar in there? He sidles off to the side while they rush and rush and rush and does his best to ignore the commotion to no avail. ]

Is there a problem here, [ Casval's words could cut stone, they're so sharp when they address the flustered manager ] sir?

[Intervention from a stranger certainly wasn't she was expecting. Especially not this stranger. The military captain from the feed. So he was real? Things get weirder by the day.]

I was just about to leave.

[Not about to play the damsel in distress. Nope.]

[Heaving a little sigh, she offers a sheepish nod.]

If you could just give me a few more minutes, I swear I'll make it up to you.

[In hindsight, that sounds kind of wrong but she's kind of in the zone right now.]

[He shrugs in reply, pulling up a seat and sliding into it. He figures he'll be here a while.]

Sure, no worries. If you want, I could help.

That'd be good. Do you know anything about medieval torture implements? My history professor seems rather fond of them.

[Taking her eyes off the monitor, she studies his face. Hm, he looks familiar.]

I think we might actually be in the same class.

[ Real, indeed, and judging from the looks of things, starting to get really, really pissed. The manager starts snapping some snarky comment or another about how she was just about to leave for the past half hour when they were mopping floors and that she was lucky, damn lucky he didn't have her thrown out after her lunchtime drama, but Casval cuts him off with a sharp raise in his tone that says, more or less, shut the fuck up. ]

She's a paying customer, is she not? For a supposed "fair trade" establishment, it doesn't strike me as a particularly liberal policy to throw her out. You've still a few minutes left on the clock, so do make the most of them [ his face darkens ] before I have you thrown out of a job.

[ The snappish reply effectively muzzles the manager, who slinks away, muttering tersely under his breath. Whoever this captain was, apparently they had some degree of influence, even in a foreign city.

Pocketing his device, Casval glances down at the damsel he's just rescued. ]

I suppose this teaches me not to go out hunting for coffee in the dead of night, hm?

[ Because if it was always going to be this bothersome, fuck the coffee, he'd just order Chinese instead. Chinese places made coffee, right? ]

You didn't have to do that. He was just doing his job.

[After losing her wealth, she's learned to see the other side of things. She knew she was in the wrong but desperate times meant she had to inflict a bit of inconvenience. It led to no shortage of guilt and shame but she needed to do it. The only thing that helped her cope was the fact that she promised she's make it up to everyone she'd ever hassled once she managed to succeed.]

[Ah, medieval torture implements. He makes a face--he still hasn't forgotten that hallucination. Dream. Whatever it was.]

Some. Not actually all that much.

[And anyway he's been putting that paper off in favor of more important matters. It isn't like anyone's actually using stuff like the Iron Maiden these days, aside for band names.

Speaking of classes, well. This is kind of embarrassing.]

What a coincidence, huh?

I'm focusing mostly on the practice of flaying for this one. The pictures were a great help keeping hunger at bay. It's a lovely little coincidence meeting you here, I suppose. Maybe you can help me word some of this better...

[ Casval just grunts. ]

If he had, my Americano would've been out awhile ago.

[ Note: for Casval, anything longer than a few minutes is "awhile ago". Busy bee, this one. Chancing a glance down to her computer, he notes the lines and lines of detailed text filling the screen... as well as a few minimized conversations, though it's difficult to tell what they actually are without making it obvious he's looking. ]

You really have been here all day, haven't you? [ For his prior huffiness over the network, he's considerably less so in person, at least after having vented his frustrations. His eyes lose their fire, trailing back to her face. ] Are you a university student, by chance?

Yes. A marketing major, actually. Look, I know what it's like to work in a place like this. Cut the guy some slack. It's closing time.

[And this is something that might be called sympathy for the devil.]

[ ...this is all beginning to sound awfully familiar, somehow. Distractingly so. ]

Pardon my straightforwardness, but have we met before? I've feel as though I know you from somewhere.

No, I can't say we have. I'd know you just by your hair if our paths had crossed in the past.

Let me see.

[He moves over, getting out of his chair to check out what she's writing. Who knows, maybe he can use some of those notes for his own.]

[Scooting over, she lets him proofread.]

I could probably email it to you if you think it might help you write yours.

[No harm in that, is there? Just helping out a classmate. The fact that he's kind of cute has nothing to do with it. REALLY.]

[ Oh, look. His Americano's ready. And they're ~~intimidated enough~~ kind enough to bring it straight to him. His gaze is still set on her, though, hardening up again. ]

"K."

[ That was just a guess, but if he's right... ]

I beg your pardon?

[Oh, she knows. The clueless routine isn't all that convincing but it's enough to plant some doubt.]

[ Flattest. Expression. Ever. ]

Young lady.

You do have some idea who I am, don't you?

Mm, thanks. I've been trying to finish it for a while, I just haven't found the time.

[...you barely even started it.]

Goldilocks?

[Not going to make this easy. Look, you were rude on the network and you're a "nice guy" who's mean to service people. Not the best impression.]

Happy to oblige. We should probably trade contact details.

[Taking a pen out and clicking it, she grabs his wrist and starts scribbling her name, e-mail and number on his palm. Not exactly the most clear-minded thing to do but it's straightforward. She doesn't want to have to deal with the looking for paper and pussyfooting around.]

You can back to work and I can leave you to it. Just text me your email when you're free.

[Not even bothering to ask his name. Well, sleeplessness does strange things.]

[ No, apparently not.

Casval cracks something of a smirk. ]

I am very disappointed you didn't skip straight to Captain Mass, madam.

[ And now he's just going to lean over, press a key on that computer, and... what's this? A network window? Now, where in the world did that come from? ]

Care to explain this?

[There's nothing she can offer but a shrug.]

Chinese virus. I'll be taking it into the shop soon.

[Yeah sure Une. Your laptop has the swine flu.]

[ ...oh, Christ. ]

It was that bloody fax machine, wasn't it?

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ACTION | ❝ you don't have to go home but you can't stay here ❞

3, welp

CAN'T WE JUST SKIP TO THE GOOD PARTS okay fine 3......

yes good choice

<3

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