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Post by Crowley on Sept 24, 2008 22:25:46 GMT -5
"Coffee'd be fine. Black," he said awkwardly. He really wasn't used to children (or child-like beings).
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Lizrael
- Masterful Virgin -
No fair!
Posts: 14
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Post by Lizrael on Sept 24, 2008 22:29:28 GMT -5
She nodded, and turned to the waiter, waving him over and ordering the coffee. Humming lightly, she fixed her hair again and turned back to him. "Um. So, you want do something afterwards? Go somewhere? Talk about old times?" From someone more mature, it would have sounded like a proposition.
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Post by Crowley on Sept 24, 2008 22:32:23 GMT -5
"Sure." He searched his mind for somewhere to take her. They were already at a cafe, so a restaurant was out of the question. He hated shopping. A bar was definitely out. He decided to answer in the safest way possible. "What would you like to do?"
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Lizrael
- Masterful Virgin -
No fair!
Posts: 14
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Post by Lizrael on Sept 24, 2008 22:38:39 GMT -5
She drank her coffee, still rocking slightly on the chair, eyes fairly glittering. When the question was turned around, she had to think for a minute.
"Ooh, I know...is there a zoo here? I forget. Hope there is!"
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Post by Crowley on Sept 24, 2008 22:39:25 GMT -5
"There is, yeah. Shall we go there, then?"
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Lizrael
- Masterful Virgin -
No fair!
Posts: 14
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Post by Lizrael on Sept 24, 2008 22:41:26 GMT -5
She nodded, remembering to put money down this time. "Sure!"
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Post by Rochester on Oct 1, 2008 17:11:49 GMT -5
***NEW DAY***
*Rochester strutted along the sidewalk, content to have his lady on his arm as he led her into the cafe. He asked to be seated in the back, overlooking the Seine, which didn't seem to be a problem. He helped Shadi into her chair.*
"Isn't this just the thing?" *He smiled and nodded to the view.*
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Post by Shadi on Oct 1, 2008 17:24:43 GMT -5
"It's lovely," Shadi said, betraying her lack of breeding a little by bouncing slightly in her chair. She was far more familiar with the seedy side of the Seine, the part where bodies floated up and rats huddled and deals were struck. This was nicer.
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Post by Rochester on Oct 2, 2008 7:44:04 GMT -5
*Rochester smiled happily, unaware of her troubles. They ordered and ate, he babbling happily about how wonderful everything was and how lovely it was to be out and about.*
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Post by Mortimer on Oct 15, 2008 13:51:18 GMT -5
***SOME OTHER DAY***
When the sharkman had grown bored with exploring the opera house, he'd returned to the cellars for another round of affection split between Erik and Julian and had excitedly asked if he could go outside now, during the day, without swimming up the river. If there was any apprehension in the voices of his friends, he didn't recognize it--it wasn't something he could recognize--and Erik had handed him some long bits of paper (pretty!) and some shiny little disks (very very pretty!) and explained to him that these could be exchanged for things like apples and chocolates and just about anything Up There, and that if he didn't remember to use them before taking anything, it was likely that men would come to put him "in prison" whatever that was.
So, armed with a small amount of paper and metal and dressed still in his fine coat and too-small trousers (still shirtless and shoeless) the little man ventured upward and out of the opera house.
It took him some time to become used to the bright sun again, and in the full light of it the speckling of his former color shimmered a bit along his hairline, adding to his unsavory and uncanny appearance. If people gave him leers and crossed the street to avoid him, he didn't notice, only smiled and peered curiously into windows, wondering what to trade his paper for first. The smell of food caught up to him and he followed it to a small area filled with tables and a few people. Everything looked and smelled temptingly tasty and after a few moments, the creature discerned that when one sat at an empty table, one of a few same-clothes people would pop over and write down what one asked for, then bring it a short while later.
So he sat and waited and it was several long minutes before someone finally approached--he though it might have been a Girl, but he wasn't sure--to take his order. Unsure of what anything was called, or what was available, he simply smiled and asked the person to "Bring what you like, okay" and then waited again.
Tea was brought first, and this presented a slight dilema. The sharkman had never in its life held a cup, or drank anything. At first he leaned over the little dish and stuck his tongue into the liquid, pulling back a bit and making a face. The bringer-person laughed and pointed to where he could find sugar, cream, honey and lemon on a little bar and walked off.
Mortimer tilted his head and blinked, looking around and finding other people who had similar dishes, watched how they held them, drank, walked around, and after another moment he curled his pinky-less hands around the mug and lifted it carefully with plans to find the sugar and honey because he knew what they were and that they were very good and would make the "teee" taste better.
Getting there was another matter, and he concentrated as he took slow steps, his tongue sticking out a bit and his brow furrowed as he kept his attention on the wobbly cup in his hands.
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Post by Valmont on Oct 15, 2008 14:05:05 GMT -5
Meanwhile, the ubiquitous Valmont was watching this curious personage watch everyone else. He had the distinct impression the man had never drunk tea before. Or anything. Or, for that matter, worn clothes, seen people, or sat in a cafe.
Such thoughts were impossible, of course, but suggested themselves, regardless. Probably just some sort of idiot, he thought; the unfortunate kind born without looks or money to assuage the rest, though this one did have a curious look to him that wasn't exactly ugly so much as... unaccountably strange.
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Post by Mortimer on Oct 15, 2008 14:16:03 GMT -5
Mortimer managed to make it to the bar and scooped so much honey and sugar into his cup that the liquid inside nearly raised over the lip and he lifted it again, tongue askew, and padded his way back to the table.
With his concentration on the cup, the tablefull of young students went unnoticed, and in typical lunchroom fashion, there was a "watch this" and a well placed shin stuck out in the creature's path.
It ended with Mortimer sprawled on his belly, not quite sure what had just happened (but it had hurt...) and his syrupy teee splashed on some long-faced man's lap, the shattered cup on the ground at his feet under the table.
The young men responsible for the scene laughed and covered their mouths saying "OH SNAP!"
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Post by Valmont on Oct 15, 2008 14:23:36 GMT -5
Whatever his faults, and by most accounts that were not his own they were many, Valmont did not care much for practical jokes, and thought the practitioners feeble and un-clever.
Still, he was getting awfully tired of having his clothes ruined in public.
Valmont surged to his feet in one fluid movement, a picture of dignity affronted even as the oddly sticky mess sludged its way down his breeches.
"Have you nothing better to do than to beset respectable men with idiots bearing tea?" he demanded of the students as a waiter rushed over with a clean towel and water. Valmont snatched the rag and dabbed delicately at himself. "Get up," he said to the man on the floor none too gently, glaring again at the students. "They're not going to hurt you."
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Post by Mortimer on Oct 15, 2008 14:33:38 GMT -5
"Already hurts..." he moaned a bit, though this didn't hurt nearly as much as when he had changed from himself to the sharkthing in Julian's room.
He curled his legs up under him and pushed himself up, sporting a tear in his trousers and a bloodied knee behind it.
The students quieted, looking down at their table but still trying to hold back laughs while their victim wobbled a bit on his feet, tears standing unshed in his eyes, though he didn't seem to notice.
"Sorry f' ruin nice clothes..."
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Post by Valmont on Oct 15, 2008 14:44:35 GMT -5
"'Sorry' doesn't exactly fix anything, does it?" he sniffed. The strange man had tattoos on his face, and Valmont wondered if he was some sort of savage. Which helped his case slightly--savages were exotic, and could not help themselves, and were therefore far more interesting than mere idiots. "Even so--"
He turned to the students.
"Apologize to him," he commanded, with an air that indicated he was not used to being disobeyed.
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