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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 12:32:14 GMT -5
"So where're you from? Other than, um, France, obviously."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Oct 1, 2009 12:33:21 GMT -5
"Ummmm. I'm only from the one place," he said, a little softly, though glad they were off the topic of family.
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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 12:34:06 GMT -5
"I mean, are you from Paris?"
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Oct 1, 2009 12:34:38 GMT -5
"Mm-hm."
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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 12:42:44 GMT -5
"Oh. I'm from California."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Oct 1, 2009 12:43:31 GMT -5
He looked intrigued. "Like Los Angeles?"
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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 12:45:21 GMT -5
"More like San Francisco-ish. Further north, right on the water."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Oct 1, 2009 12:46:00 GMT -5
"Where's there water?"
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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 12:49:39 GMT -5
She smiled with her teeth showing, but then realized they were and stopped.
"It eventually goes out and touches the Pacific Ocean, but it's just an inlet, really. It's still enough for us to get a lot of wind from the strait, though. I've lived there my whole life."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Oct 1, 2009 12:51:23 GMT -5
"Huh," he said. "I've been to Marseilles, and Corsica. I suppose Californie sounds a'right."
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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 13:01:58 GMT -5
"The city was kind of dying when I left it," she said, a little ruefully. "No job market to speak of or anything. My brother was smart- he got out of there."
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Post by Ghislain on Oct 1, 2009 13:02:40 GMT -5
"Eh," he said, "jobs're overrated. I've had a bunch."
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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 13:05:53 GMT -5
"Me too," she admitted. "They didn't last, though. I sprained my ankle and had to take time off from work when I was a cashier at a Chinese restaurant, and they never called me back. I worked in a costume shop for a little while after that, but I got paid under the table, so it was only ninety dollars for a whole month of work. And then there was a bookshop, but they couldn't afford to keep me."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Oct 1, 2009 13:07:25 GMT -5
"Oh, you can find jobs anywhere, if you want 'em. Dishwashin' and waitin' tables and sweeping - carrying things for people, that sort of thing - and, well." He made a gesture towards himself, though modestly, and sort of quietly.
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Post by Megan on Oct 1, 2009 13:14:20 GMT -5
She looked down for a moment, unsure of what to say. Her own bitching seemed pretty inconsequential in the face of a kid who'd had to freaking prostitute himself.
"I'm looking at maybe being a typist at a newspaper," she said quietly. "They're considering me, at least. And it's sort of in my blood- my dad's one of the big top editor people at the Chronicle, and he started off as just a sports reporter. He'd probably be proud of me, for once."
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