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savetheearth2013-05-21 02:51 pm
oo5 • open action!
Where: The park.
When: Six thirty in the AM, Wednesday 22nd. Horrible. Just horrible.
What: An early morning walk. In pyjamas. With tea.
[ Emery likes mornings.
Emery isn't a morning person.
It's a strain to be up by five-thirty to take in the fresh air at six; the local park gets so busy so quickly, what with dog-walkers, runners and children, which means that chasing outdoor peace and quiet comes with an early riser's price. Every now and then, though, he likes to give it a go, and when he manages to make it from his bed to the door without falling back to sleep? Well. That's success enough in itself.
This morning is one such morning. Although he hasn't bothered changing out of his paint-flecked pyjamas (his pants are light grey cotton and his shirt depicts a plan of a familiar not-quite-henge, what of it), he's made himself seem at least somewhat respectable by shoving into his cable-knit cardigan. In his right hand he's clutching the biggest cup of green tea he could buy with the bills stuffed in his pocket: a refreshing way to start the day, or so he tells himself as he sips it.
He is, for the most part, trying not to think about being in bed.
It's all worth it, though, when he makes it to the park for six-thirty: just in time to catch the birds wheeling around and making their morning fuss. In moments like this it's almost possible to forget the itch in the back of his mind; the cold droplet of unease that accompanied his new "Extra". Magic? His research has yielded so little (save the fact that the Middle Ages was a terrible time to fall ill), and yet ...
And yet. ]
... And yet what?
[ He huffs aloud, pausing in his tracks to blow a stream of cool air into his tea. There's a smudge of black charcoal below his left eye and he appears to be frowning deeply into his drink: don't mind him, fellow passer-by, and do feel free to spill it everywhere should it take your fancy. Right now he just looks like a tired, painty hippy having a conversation with a cup of tea. ]
that turned out longer than expected...
The romance novels some of his girls are so fond of tend to romanticize the type of man Dick is. He's a "modern rake" of sorts if one is intent on seeing him through rose-tinted spectacles. There's no pink glass obscuring his vision when he looks in the mirror though. He knows what he is. He's a sleaze. He's come to accept that.
Only by knowing what we are and using it to our advantage can we move up in the world.
He has the hood on his black jacket up and the fabric on his old university sweatpants began to pill long ago. No, he doesn't look like himself right now. It's kind of a release. Feels like being in college again. Feels like being a nobody with nothing to worry about but graduating and maybe making the world a better place.
50 Cent thrums into his ears through his iPod, rapping about sex and love and birthdays. (Hey, he's hip. Never mind that the song is from 2002.) Nothing's amiss as he jogs on. At least that seems to be the case until he slams into a gangly excuse for flesh. Hot tea hits him, spilling all over his clothes as he backs away in surprise, ready to unleash a stream of expletives that would make a whore blush. The only thing that gives him pause is the face that meets his before he can descend into a rage. Sighing, he counts to ten in his head and smiles.]
You're a lot prettier than your Facebook photos, Emily.
... That's ... what ... she said?
[ Dick will be pleased to not he isn't the only one who ends up covered in tea: the splashes go both ways, ass, and Emery makes a startled sound of his own at the sudden scalding of his hands. He doesn't let go of the cup, though, as if by some minor miracle, although he does stand there dumbly for a moment as he tries desperately to pull himself from his thoughts. ]
... Um.
[ Pretty? Dick, did you seriously just sass him with "pretty"? ]
Thanks?
[ Emery looks sceptical, though, as he swaps hands with the cup, carelessly wiping off the tea onto the thigh of his pants. Of course, he ignores the sting of the name-calling (yeah, guess who was bullied as a kid), opting instead to give Dick a once-over himself; ]
You — look less like a James Bond villain than usual?
lmfao you got me
[The hot tea's soaked through his jacket but it's not much of a pain since the morning air's quick to cool it. Not much he can do now, is there? Taking it off is out of the questions considering how damn cold it is.]
So you're an early bird, huh?
8D
Only a couple of times a week.
[ Have a sheepish little chuckle. Does this look like the kind of young man who gets up early on a regular basis? ]
I like the city before it turns into the city. It reminds me of home, a bit, just with ... less seagulls.
[ Emery looks into his two-thirds empty cup somewhat dejectedly before lifting an eyebrow at Dick. ]
I think you owe me a cup of tea now.
no subject
[He looks around, seeking somewhere to perch. When he spots a bench, he cranes his neck toward it.]
And maybe let me sit my ass down. No seagulls here but there's lots of pigeon shit. Close enough.
no subject
[ Have a derisive little snort — amused, certainly, but derisive nonetheless. ]
It doesn't count if it's a replacement, Dick. It extra doesn't count that it's just a cup of take-away tea.
[ But he just shakes his head and follows Dick's lead to the rickety little bench. When he sits, he folds his legs up, so they're crossed Indian style beneath him, and he holds the cup in his lap with both hands as he swirls the contents in contemplation. ]
D'you come jogging every morning? I've not seen you out before.
no subject
I'll give you a ten and we'll call it even. And yeah, I jog every morning. What's it to you?
no subject
... Ten? Hang on, how much do you think a cup of tea costs?
[ Then again, Dick probably only buys coffee, and the kind of coffee he buys probably costs upwards of eight dollars on a good day. Chuckling softly, Emery rubs the heel of his hand into his eye before tossing a little grin in Dick's direction; ]
Maybe I'm trying to plan out where to avoid.
no subject
no subject
So he's out, having to be sloppier-looking than usual in red sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt with a white basketball jersey over it, red-faced and damp with exertion and his hair disarrayed. Slowing to a walk he pours water over his face and rakes back his hair, smears water on the back of his neck, and exhales in a brisk but not unhappy way before doing a double take at the person he's around abreast of.]
Hey! Emery. Didn't expect you here. [He's not out of breath at all.]
no subject
Julien?
[ Emery blinks a couple of times, surprised to see someone he knows out so early. He had no idea he'd been fraternising with athletic, early-morning types: he almost feels like a bum for standing there looking like he's just rolled out of bed.
Which he has.
Still a little bit too surprised, he sticks out the hand holding the cup in case Julien used up all his water in splashing himself down: ]
Are you training for something? Or are you just a runner?
[ Because seriously, to be that sweaty and pink but not be out of breath? Insane. ]
no subject
I'd say I wasn't, but these days I guess I am! You should've seen me trying this a month ago, all oh-god-I'm-gonna-die, but it's like they say, it does get easier!
[Now he laughs.]
God, listen to me, I sound like a health nut.
no subject
It's the 'oh-god-I'm-gonna-die' bit that I have trouble with. In theory? Exercise is great! In practise ...
[ He shrugs a little an gestures to himself: he's slim, yes, but that's not because he takes care of himself. Those twiggy arms of his can just about hold his weight on jungle gym monkey bars. He offers Julien a self-deprecating little grin before carrying on; ]
It's good that you've found a fun hobby, though. Maybe I'll take up something too.
[ Pause for thought. ]
Like knitting?
[ Low energy, high ... creativity? Or perhaps just another opportunity to tangle himself in knots. Excellent. ]
no subject
[Julien checks that the path ahead doesn't have any surprises and gets ahead of Emery, then starts walking backwards, a playfulness in his step.]
Oooh, good plan. Anyone's so caddish to bug you for it, you have two giant needles to threaten them with!
Heh... I didn't really choose this. Well, the park and not a gym, I chose that, at least. No birds in the gym, and the same scenery.