[Action; Closed, December 19]

[dead_black_eyes]

Who: Lazarus Lawliet and Belle Goldman
Where: The grocery store
When: Backdated to December 19
What: L's therapist means well but cannot always keep the professional barrier firmly in place. While L waits to hear from his prospective job, the grad student takes matters into her own hands and brusquely spirits her client away on a trip to shop, healthily, on a budget.
Warnings: L can be inappropriate, will be updated if necessary.



After Belle's call, Lazarus spent a few moments pacing indecisively. Leaving immediately, as she'd said he'd need to if he wanted to catch her before work, meant that his plans for the rest of the day were effectively spoiled. Then again, his "plans" were far from exciting or pressing.

Slinging on his newly-repaired coat and locking up his studio apartment, he made his way to the bus stop and hopped the next bus, avoiding eye contact the whole time with the neighborhood's other ne'er-do-wells as they rode to the station.

Once there, he kept his dark eyes peeled for Belle's Honda civic, idly wondering if she really had the time for him she claimed she did.

Comments

[belphe]

"If I were a stranger, and you were inflicting your problems on me uninvited, that would be an entirely different situation. However, I am your doctor, and I am asking you to try."

[dead_black_eyes]

L fought a silent but wholly obvious battle with himself before heaving a deep, weary sigh.

"If I try I want something else to balance it out. Kosher meat, or not at all."

[belphe]

"I will consider that a fair trade." she agreed.

And now it was his turn to do his part.

[dead_black_eyes]

Though he seemed to loathe doing it, he dropped the cheese into the shopping basket.

"Fine. It's a deal."

[belphe]

Inwardly, she was thrilled. Grudging as it was, this was a modicum of progress for him. Outwardly, she kept herself admirably composed, giving him a faint, approving smile.

"Good. Now I'll uphold my end of the trade. Pick whatever meat you like."

[dead_black_eyes]

He wandered toward the meats, fussing silently over the selection of chicken and perhaps sending off rather difficult-to-misinterpret signals that he needed a moment alone with the little white packages.