|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Nov 23, 2015 3:05 am
Normally, he reminded himself, visiting a cafe was nothing more than an afterthought, an excuse to refrain from going home for the night. Visiting a cafe implied a few quick sketches, or a short try at flirtation if he found any one party particularly receptive. Never would he think to consider it the main object of his evening, unless deeply stressed by his day.
And yet, even that didn't apply - Isaiah chose the cafe nearest his condominium as an exercise attempt. While Isaiah tired quickly under duress, he loathed far more the idea that his leg may rot away in recovery. So, armed with a cane, acetaminophen, and ibuprofen, he sought to perish the thought of atrophy. Down the elevator, across the dauntingly vast lobby, and down carefully negotiated steps on the outside of the building he went, all the while reminding himself that he need only consider a few steps ahead of himself. A handful of pedestrians even offered him assistance, And from a particularly attractive woman at his height he accepted it, but by and large he refused the help.
During the trek, Isaiah noticed that walking with a cane looked counterintuitive for its use, and was easy to adjust to. It placed great strain on his arm but that far paled to the staples in his leg. And, surprisingly, he managed the distance in under a half an hour.
Finally Isaiah found a seat at the nearest wrought-iron table, free of remainders from the last party to claim the chairs. A quick glance at standing company confirmed several people as neatly bundled up as he was, and more importantly, no one was heading his way to take the table. Carefully he lowered himself onto the wrought iron chair, his cane hooked over one arm, and his leg kept straight (though, to his chagrin, the staples pulled despite his efforts). Afterward he breathed a sigh. He already started to sweat; whether from pain or exertion, he couldn't say.
An expanse of white caught his eye to the left, and he leaned back to catch a corner of a scene sprawled over paper. A sketch? The woman sitting with his back to him kept her head bowed in concentration. Must be.
An idea sprung to mind, so he pulled the cane from its roost and used it to tap one of the legs to her chair gently. "Can I see what you're drawing?"Kolina sorry if the start sucks, i'm having a terrible day
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 26, 2015 8:07 am
With the days being shorter and certainly much more crisp Gwen found herself spending less time outside and staying nestled in her apartment. As a whole it wasn’t a terrible situation. She was able to get a lot of things done that she had been putting off, and her dog Reilly certainly was loving having his mom around constantly. The only problem was that Gwen was starting to feel the pangs of loneliness and that was something that not even her sweet sheltie could cure for her. With a lack of a social circle Gwen couldn’t just call up someone and ask them to come over or hang out. So she did the next best thing. The coffee shop she had chosen wasn’t terribly far from her apartment, but she had chosen it over another one that had been decidedly closer. This specific coffee shop made the best chai tea and, on such a crisp day, it was the perfect thing to sip on. Plus, the shop had extra large windows which faced a building that had some interesting features and was already decked out for the holidays; A perfect subject to draw. Using a mechanical pencil, Gwen sketched out the general image she was going to work on before moving in and beginning to work on details. She took care to focus on even the tiniest nuance which made for good practice in observation. One day she hoped to get herself to the point where she could sketch from memory but that was certainly going to take some time, if she ever accomplished it. Gwen had been so absorbed in her work that she was unperturbed by the coming and goings of the shops’ customers. The atmosphere and coziness was enough to put her at complete ease and just enjoy what she was doing. Of course that meant when an unexpected tapping vibrated her chair she jumped slightly, head snapping up from her sketch pad. Turning in her chair she looked behind her to find the source of the voice. “It’s not finished yet.” She handed him the sketchpad which held her half finished scene. The main building of her image the only thing having been drawn in any sort of detail. Everything else was nothing more than sketchy outlines and general guides of where things would go. As the man looked at her sketch, Gwen took the time to look him over. Certainly petite in frame. He seemed to be around her age, though heaven knew that guessing age was always a trickey thing. One thing was for certain, the poor guy looked like he probably had had a rough day of it not too long ago. “So, did you get the plate of the truck that hit you?” Strickenized Psssh! Your start was fine!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 30, 2015 2:48 am
Isaiah accepted the sketchpad graciously and studied it for its accuracy. A cityscape it was, displaying all the buildings on one side of the street without the lazy corner-cutting he would expect of an amateur. The buildings were all recognizable for their individual shops, even if the signs weren't quite finished in the drawing. "You have a great sense of proportion," he pointed out immediately. Glancing to the city itself and back to the sketch confirmed no obvious mishaps in the relative size in the piece. Afterward he handed the sketchbook back to the owner for her to finish at her leisure.
"As for your question, I did one better. The doctors had to surgically remove the plate from my leg." Isaiah spoke dryly enough. Fingers laced together and draped across the arm of the chair, which sat in front of him given his sideways posture. His injured leg remained extended to avoid adding strain to the staples. "But, as it turns out, the truck was stolen, they found it in the bottom of a lake three days later, and the perpetrator is still at large. You know how these things go.
"Truthfully, I was attacked. You'd never expect it in a city like this, right?" The surfeit of headlines spelling mayhem and disaster reinforced his sarcasm well enough.
From her response, Isaiah wagered she responded well to dry humor. Asking after injury always sounded difficult; there was an unspoken requirement to express pity and concern, of which she gave none - Isaiah preferred this by far. Therefore, she felt more honest, and as a result, he considered issuing her his real name. Frequent run-ins with Colin, Auguste, Nadia, and Lorne confirmed that being truthful more often was a far greater benefit than lying for self-preservation.
Besides, what good did it do him to hide his civilian identity so carefully when Labyrinthite stillnearly killed him?
"Isaiah Zähne," he offered at last, including his hand.Kolina sorry about the wait /swims in overdue tags
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 04, 2015 3:21 pm
After handing her sketchpad over, Gwen figured it was a good opportunity to tend to the cup that had been sitting on the table neglected since she had begun drawing. Picking it up though she realized that the cup was, at best, luke warm. It didn't bode well. As she turned back to watch the man scrutinize her work with what appeared to be a well practiced eye, she took a sip of what should have been body warming Chai tea but was now glorified sweetened milk. Sure the spices of the tea were there, but without the warmth it was just not as good. A grimace crossed her face and she looked at the cup for a moment before placing it back onto the table to be forgotten until she left. "Oh!" She smiled at the compliment. "Thanks!" So this man did know some things about art. In fact, with how he was looking things over and comparing she would guess that he was an artist himself. If not, he certainly was big into looking or collecting it. When he offered the sketchbook back, Gwen happily took it. Instead of turning and getting lost in the sketch again, Gwen made a point to close the sketchbook and laid her pencil on top of it. After all, here was a man who was willing to chat with her and really, that had been the main focus of her coming out. She needed social interaction and here he was and she didn't even need to do any work to start the conversation. Turning her body, Gwen opted to tucking a leg up underneath herself, the other balancing her on the floor as she leaned against the back of the chair not much unlike her conversationalist. The maroon leggings she wore with her grey, over sized sweater made it easy for her to get comfortable in such a position. Thankfully she had worn small black ballet flats instead of boots. "Oh yes. It always seems to happen that way doesn't it? Those hit and runs are just brutal." She grinned. Someone who appreciated her humor was always a bonus in her book. He certainly could have taken her joking as an insult and turned away. At the mention of him being attacked her grin faded. "No. Never." Her response held a note to it that said she knew all too well those problems. It wasn't long ago that Gwen had been attacked by a strange man. Funny how she had moved to this city thinking it would be a nice change of pace and safer than the Big Apple and things seemed anything but peaceful. "Well, hopefully you mend up quickly enough. I can't imagine that's the most convenient thing to be dealing with. Especially this time of year." "Gweneth Malley, but call me Gwen. I think only my Father calls me Gweneth. Maybe my brother if he's trying to be a jerk." Her smile returned at that. "So, you seemed really interested in my sketch. What sort of art do you do? Or are you more of an appreciator?" Folding her hands on the top of the chair she lowered her head to rest on them as she adjusted her body to sit a bit further forward on the chair to compensate. "With how you were studying it though I am thinking you're an artist yourself. Wait...let me guess...painter?" Strickenized Told you I'd get you a tag tonight! Woo! Sorry for the wait.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2015 7:54 am
In comparison, the both of them shared a collectively neutral color palette. The maroon leggings held enough neutrality to them to avoid standing out from the grey sweater she wore, which meant only her hair and brilliant blue eyes stood out from the ensemble. The red and maroon looked an odd combination to him, but he said nothing of it; he assumed she had her reasons for choosing such a color. Besides, color theory wasn't his strong suit as a charcoal artist.
Isaiah could not say as much for himself for neutrality - a white and light grey striped scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, which rested upon a black and acid green graphic tee. Beneath that was a skin tight half jacket with three-quarter sleeves, dyed a distressed darker grey, and beneath that still was a full-sleeved fishnet shirt in straight black. His leathers proved too tight to wear over his injury comfortably, so he settled on a looser pair of pinstripe pants that he normally only wore with his business attire. It mismatched somewhat, but considering he hadn't gotten laid in two entire distressing weeks, he doubted that one more day of dressing awkwardly made a difference.
"I think, comparatively, getting crippled by a man dressed like a grim reaper meets Alice in Wonderland lovechild sounds pretty ******** metal," he commented with a sweep of his hand. "You're probably well aware of this, but it bears mentioning - don't be a dumbass like me and go wandering around outside at the asinine hours of the night. Whatever it is, it can wait 'til morning." And, perhaps, asking Ashanite to meet him after dawn granted better results. Would he know chaos in his veins by now if he did so? He imagined that may be.
Another Saturn knight to add to Ashanite's budding collection, he supposed.
Isaiah shrugged, then began toying with the handle of his cane. He balanced its clear glass grip upon one finger and watched it slowly sway in the ambient breeze. "You'd be surprised - it's actually quite convenient. I always get the best seats on the bus, people will help me around from time to time, and sometimes I get the rare worrywart that decides to buy me free coffee to keep me warm." Even if it's out of pity, why say no? It's such a useful little tool.
"Gwen it is, then. Or can I call you Gwenney? Anyway," he waved the topic away and fought to sit up from his slouch. "My painting skills are absolute crap, actually. I thought about getting into painting with my d**k and using the shock factor of it to make money on bad portraits, but Tim Patch beat me to it. Instead I work with dry medias. Charcoal's an old favorite, but chalk pastels and colored pencils are close competitors. I have a bachelor's in fine arts, but," he shrugged, "right now it's just a drink coaster. Are you professionally trained? How long have you been at this?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2015 4:20 pm
Perched upon her chair, head resting on her hands, Gwen was studied the man in front of her. His taste of style was certainly not something she'd ever pick for herself but appeared to work well for him. The dark clothes with the dark hair though did seem to wash him out. Then again, she was one to talk considering her ghostly pale skin tone. "Well, that certainly creates quite an image for me." And in fact it did. Her creative mind was able to piece together quite an image of a rabbit eared grim reaper carrying a clock scythe and wearing oddly mixed attire of robes and a vest. Very steam punk in look, if extremely odd. She was sure though that her imagination was probably not quite on point, but it was at least amusing. "Well, at this time of year I'll be well tucked away at home under in a blanket with my dog at my side before the clock strikes 9." She shrugged. "I have no interest in being out in the cold if I can avoid it, let alone in the dark." She paused for a moment, tilting her head on her hands, an appreciative smile on her face. "Thank you for the warning though." At that moment a piece of hair fell loose from the messy braid she had donned. Finally lifting her head from it's resting spot on her hands she sat up and reached back to try and tuck the piece back into the braid. With a bit of tugging at the plait she managed to weave the piece back in, though it was unlikely it would stay lodged for very long. A bobby pin would have done the trick but she had neglected to bring her purse, just her wallet and supplies for sketching. "Well at least people are being polite." She said as she rested her arms on the back of her chair after fixing her hair. "And the occasional free coffee certainly sounds lovely." Gwen blinked. "Uh, well, can't say I've been called Gwenney since I was a kid." She shrugged. "I am not opposed to it." Gwen chuckled. "You missed out on a good money maker there! I have to admit, as ridiculous as it is, it works. But I am sure with your degree you can do a bit better than using shock to keep people's attention." A faint tingling was beginning to form in her foot and Gwen shifted slightly to ease some of the weight she put on her appendage. "I can't say I've dabbled in much besides pencil sketches and colored pencils myself. I took art classes in high school and a few here and there in college. I, unfortunately, did not follow my dream of being an artist and instead got a degree in Entrepreneurship. I have to admit mine isn't doing much more than yours at the moment. That seems the way of degrees lately." Gwen reached back to grab her Chai tea again, momentarily forgetting that it had gotten cold until the liquid touched her lips. She grimaced and put the cup back down and sighed. "Well, since I need a new Chai tea I guess I'll get you a coffee." She paused with a grin."Might as well get those free drinks while you can. Once you're all mended up it will be back to paying for your own things and riding in the back of the bus." Getting up from her chair Gwen paused a moment to let feeling rush back into the leg she had perched herself on. She flexed her foot once, twice, before grabbing her wallet and walking up to the counter. The barista was thankfully not busy and promptly got to work on the drinks, not the a Chai tea and coffee required much work. While she waited, Gwen grabbed creamers and sugar before retrieving the two drink. Carefully balancing her chai tea in the hand with the creamers she walked over and placed the coffee down in front of Isiah before transferring her tea to the now free hand and depositing the creamers and sugar on his table, except one sugar packet. "Wasn't sure how you liked your coffee. Figured I'd cover all the bases." After putting her chai tea on the table and depositing the sugar in it, Gwen opted to straddle her chair instead of sitting on her leg again to prevent any more sleepy leg syndrome. "So, I have to ask, what does one do around this city for fun? I've hit up a few bars here and there but nothing ground breaking."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 10, 2015 7:28 am
"I don't think the dark is the only time they get out and about." Isaiah shrugged; he himself spent more than a few lulling hours by executing quick patrols in daylight. Certainly there were fewer youma perusing the area, but seldom were there none. And seldom did he interfere - Scholomance used these opportunities to observe what he could and attempt to formulate an opinion on the war more than anything. He wondered if he might cross paths with Gwen again one day, wearing Scholomance's mantle instead of Isaiah's face.
Her comment over Pricasso garnered his interest. Idle fingers tapped against the curling arm of the chair while he spoke. "It's not that only shock factor gets him though his art, because he is actually decent at caricatures. Granted, most street artists are perfectly capable of rendering art as well as him - his is nothing stellar or even beyond the average - but the fact that he paints with his asscheeks and his tool lends a bit of credence to his skill. Personally I don't think I'd like pissing the rainbow every time I use my paints. Mixed media has never been a strength of mine, either." Not to mention all those piercings would become quite cumbersome, and a b***h to clean - I don't want to soak the damned things in turpentine just to get the paint layers off.
Isaiah spared her a smile. "Thank you." He wouldn't turn down an opportunity for a free drink coming from anyone - especially someone with similar interests that proved easy on the eyes. Most people, he found, looked very well put-together in Destiny City. Perhaps this city wasn't too different from New York.
When she returned, he accepted the cup graciously and got to work with the creamer and sweetener. Luckily this particular coffee shop did not often burn their drinks, ergo very little sugar was needed. A single packet went into the cup alongside one of the creamer doses; Isaiah felt personally slighted by half and half and subsequently avoided it in favor of full cream. Carefully he stirred the drink with one of the thin red straws. "Entrepreneurship is a lot of work, I find. Have you started a business, then? Or are you more on the side of advising? I'm interested to hear what you can do with a degree like that - certainly more than I could with my Fine Arts degree, I hope." Additionally, he hoped she had something more prestigious up her sleeve than a pawn shop.
While Isaiah looked as though he mentally checked out of the conversation for the moment, he returned just as quickly as he left. "Fun? Mmm, there's a few things. There are a handful of lively clubs around here, like Dissension and The Lotus. Obviously you've found the bars. There's some good nature trails through the North End Park, and some ski slopes around this time of year if you go a little further north. There's a good handful of bookstores open late, too. I've also found some of the more traditional tea houses, which I prefer. There's a Cat Café too, if you're into cats. DCBC is a ballet studio that puts out plays pretty frequently, too, and sometimes there are seasonal craft fairs and locally sponsored events. Those you can usually find in the free city paper or online."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2015 12:29 pm
Gwen shrugged slightly. "I guess it could be considered a lot of work if it's not something you're interested in, but that's the beauty of being an entrepreneur. You have the ability to control your business how you'd like it. I'd like to open up a gardening or flower shop. I've always had an interest in plants and enjoy tending to them. Plus, my mother handed off her green thumb to me so that certainly helps." Carefully she lifted her tea to her lips. The heat from the drink was practically radiating from the cup, but she took the chance anyway and sipped ever so gingerly through the hole in the plastic lid. She was greeted by lava hot liquid which she couldn't even taste. Right. It would be a hand warmer for now. "I really think any degree is as useful as you want it to be. Sure, some are easier when it comes to finding jobs with it, but you make it what you want it to be. I mean, anyone can start their own business. My degree really just gives me a small leg up with the knowledge imparted to me. Kind of like how I can draw, but I have no degree for it. I am certainly not great at it, compared to someone, like you, who has a degree, but I can muddle through and enjoy myself in the process." Looking at her cup, Gwen decided to remove the lid and set it and the cup behind her on the table to let it cool a bit. As much as she enjoyed holding it, she wanted to drink it sometime soon and did not want to risk spilling any of the steaming liquid onto herself. When she turned back to Isaiah it wasn't hard to tell that he had checked out for a moment. She wondered if maybe it was medication he was on, or if he was possibly finding the conversation dull? She hoped it wasn't the latter as she was happily enjoying his company. As quickly as he checked out though, Isiah was right back into the conversation and Gwen smiled. "Well, it's getting a bit too cold for me for trails, and I've never had a chance to try skiing. Cat cafe's I've heard are rather popular now but I am more of a dog person. Don't get me wrong, I like cats, I just find their personalities to be less giving than dogs." She shrugged slightly. Propping an elbow on the back of her chair she rested her chin in her hand. "A traditional tea house sounds lovely though!" She made a mental note to search out said mentioned tea houses. and I have heard of the clubs, just haven't ventured to them yet. I've always preferred to go to those kinds of places with friends. It's always nice to have someone there to dance with or to help bail you out if you run into a pushy guy who doesn't know the definition of no." She mused for a moment. "We should go sometime whenever you're all healed up. That is, if you like that sort of stuff." Realizing that Isaiah may take the invite as something more than it actually was, Gwen decided to try and change the subject a bit. "So, I feel like I've been telling you my whole life story but know nothing about the mysterious man I am talking to. What do you do with yourself? What kind of things interest you besides art?" Deciding that maybe her tea might be sip able by now she turned her torso to reach back and grab it before turning back. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I am just a wee bit curious is all." She lifted the still lidless cup and carefully sipped at the liquid. Thankfully it didn't scald her this time, but it wasn't at the point of being able to be drunk comfortably yet. "Hopefully curiosity won't come back to bite me." She offered another smile as she leaned forward on the chair's back, her tea carefully cupped between her hands.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 3:38 am
"You're right. It is a lot of work if you're disinterested. Running a pawn shop wasn't my idea of a great career." A flower shop, though... He imagined that sort of business was more lucrative than attempting to become an artist had been. Likely Gwen would encounter business spikes around the holidays, and throughout the year with anniversaries so long as flowers remained symbolic of couples and women - or even so long as they remained popularized (because, truly, he hoped those symbols fell by the wayside and they found gender-nonspecific versatility).
"Right. Anyone can teach." It was about all his degree was good for - and certainly he could open a business of or relating to drawing, but with the amount of financials and startup work it costed, he simply didn't have the time to make that transition. His attendance at the shop faltered lately and Vargas picked up the slack beautifully, and he suspected the man grew restless in his position as general manager and wanted a store of his own, but selling his way out of the pawn shop business did not sound promising. "I don't think having a degree in fine arts does you a terrible lot of good on the skills end sometimes. I graduated with a few poor sots that couldn't draw a stick figure to save their lives; for how they passed, I expect they handed out a lot of sexual favors."
Most of his suggestions received pause, which he expected - without knowing Gwen's tastes, most were shots in the dark. Somehow it surprised him that she was into clubs, though he knew not why. There wasn't an established stereotype for that sort of thing, or even an established stereotype for people against clubs or dancing. "I can see where you're coming from." With his hands cupped around the coffee cup, his fingernails scratched at the heat sleeve idly. "I've gone to a handful on my own before and encountered similar circumstances. Some people just lose understanding of the word 'no' when strung out on drugs or particularly drunk." And, as he experienced, there were dangers to both sexes.
"I would be delighted to go with you, though." Acquiescing meant getting her phone number meant getting his foot in the door. Hopefully a budding friendship led to a few exciting places. "I've gotten into the habit of frequenting places that play a particular type of music, so someone to drag me out of that routine would help greatly."
Her question coaxed an enigmatic smile out of him as he lowered his gaze to the nondescript rim of his coffee. Steam still flooded out into the cold air, and he wished his drink would cool faster. "My hobbies are a little out of left field. Right now I mostly work at the pawn shop, draw on a rarity, sometimes break the law, and try to get myself killed by terrorists. I also really enjoy strange fiction stories - the kind that often make you grimace when you hear them. I think they're a more... Raw representation of human nature. Those sorts of things tend to interest me. But, on the other hand, I'm not particularly fond of reading about dead white guys debating what it means to be human." Finally Isaiah tried his coffee, and found it not only drinkable but surprisingly not burnt given the time of day.
He watched the cars reflected in the building across the street, and eyed how they warped as they approached the frames for each plate of glass. "The rest of it is just..." He shrugged, started tapping his good foot restlessly. Past experiences warned him not to go too far. Casting his gaze toward her again, he consciously forced himself to stop tapping his foot and shrugged. "I like to drink." The more exotic portions of his life remained unsaid, possibly for the better. There were circles for that.
"Where did you move here from? You sound like a pretty recent transplant."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 5:03 pm
"A pawn shop?" She looked at him curiously. "I can't imagine it's a terribly boring job. I bet you get to see all different sorts of people and not to mention all the items they bring in." She could certainly see how someone with a degree in fine arts wouldn't tend to find running a pawn shop as the pinnacle of their career, but it at least sounded interesting. "I think there could be worse jobs out there." And she could certainly think of a few to prove her point if needed. A brow rose for a moment before she chuckled. "Well, I have no doubts that there are people like that in every degree type. They get along better by their physical capabilities than their mental. Though, sometimes I wonder who the smarter of the two groups are. The ones who think more certainly walked out learning something while those who are more, eh, physically inclined probably have more fun." She shrugged, a grin on her face. "Who's to know who made out the best?" The steam from her cup was slowly easing, which coaxed Gwen into taking a larger sip of the liquid. This time she was pleased to find it a very tolerable temperature and she delighted in the vanilla chai flavor with a pleased smile. Taking another sip she adjusted herself a bit in her chair so her back wasn't arched uncomfortably due to some gradual sliding as she leaned on the chair's back. "Perfect then!" Twisting in her chair she placed her cup down on the table and grabbed a pencil. She didn't hesitate to rip a section of paper out of her sketch pad from a blank sheet of paper. Gwen hadn't ever been the finicky type to keep her pads pristine and complete. In a quick, rather loopy feminine penmanship, Gwen jotted down her number and wrote her name, Gwen Malley, below it. She turned back around and handed Isaiah the paper. "Feel free to call or text me then, and it doesn't just need to be when you're ready to head out to a club." Turning back again she grabbed her tea and took another sip of it as she got herself comfortable again in her chair. "Sounds like you try and keep life interesting at least." Then she realized part of what he said and her brow furrowed. "Terrorists? That's certainly not something I've heard before." Gwen noted Isaiah's distant look behind her. She was going to turn to see what could have caught his attention when he continued on. "Well, drinking isn't really a problem." She took a sip of her tea. "Unless you let it become a problem of course." Gwen tried to deduce if Isaiah was one of those people. She didn't really think he was considering he was here and not parked at His demeanor and quick wit made her think otherwise. Then again, she never personally dealt with an alcoholic and Isaiah could be a perfect example of one. "I am all for a few drinks when having fun, maybe a few extra if the night is promising." "Hm? Oh, I've been around for a few months but have spent a lot of time job hunting and getting myself settled in. I moved here from New York City cause I wanted a quieter atmosphere but didn't want to feel like I was living out in no-mans-land. Destiny City looked like a good place to set down some roots. Mind, I've never been here until I moved. Things always look more promising on paper." She paused, looking down at her cup as she brushed her thumb over its' lip. "I haven't been finding the transition easy." The words escaped her before she could stop them. She felt a bit of a fool but at the same time a bit relieved to have finally admit aloud to someone that she wasn't feeling at home. "Sorry. Now I am bringing down the mood." She attempted to laugh it off before using her tea as a means to keep from saying anything more as she took a gulp. Strickenized Hope you enjoy my half asleep post. XD
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 24, 2015 4:04 am
"Oh, it's rarely boring." Isaiah chanced a sip of his coffee. It threatened to scald, yet his tongue remained unscathed from blowing on his drink previously. I can think of few other jobs that aren't related to public service and yet the police know you by name. Some of them even bring me coffee when they arrive to ask about stolen merchandise. I especially like those cops.
Gwen grew quite animated from her lounging when she sat up, which drew his attention immediately. Happily he accepted the sheet of paper, studied it for readability, then procured his phone to add the number. The paper sat caged beneath the edge of his coffee cup to keep the wind from stealing it to someone else. Once he saved the contact, Isaiah wrote up a short text identifying himself and sent it to the number she gave him. He had a small amount of people offer him the wrong number in the past; texting immediately, he found, often circumvented this - and gave the other person his number in exchange. "Perfect. I will warn you that you'll get the most inane texts when work slows to a crawl. Otherwise, I like to think I can carry a real conversation." Especially if that conversation included pieces of shipwrecks, jewelry, antique guns, or books. Or, really, nearly anything he dealt with on a common basis at his shop.
"Terrorists are something you'll hear of quite a lot here." This time he actually drank his coffee rather than taking a sip. "There's all sorts of them in DC, apparently. The man who attacked me was one. The number keeps growing, too. It's fascinating if you keep yourself from getting attacked. Well worth looking into, I think - but investigative journalism just wasn't in my cards."
I think drinking at 5am constitutes 'letting it become a problem'. I've not been to work drunk yet, but I expect that might happen if I keep on with this shitty course. I could stand to learn a little self-control from Gwen here.
"New York, eh? The city itself, must be. Small world, then; I moved here from New York too. Used to run Sterling Pawn down in Queens." Not that the shop stood out as a landmark - the chances were that Gwen could've passed the place a hundred times and never noticed it. Likewise for any public transportation - they could've whisked right by each other without ever realizing it. Or, perhaps, she lived in a much different part of the city and they never intersected. New York was immense, and his life was loaded with problems at the time. "It's a big adjustment. It's almost aggravating not to feel rushed all the time." Not that Chicago was much better. Most of Isaiah's life kept a quick speed, and only recently had that slowed down.
Isaiah waved her apology away. "Don't worry about that. Keeping the mood light all the time might be great for getting acquaintances, but it's terrible for making friends. Speaking of which, if more friends make the transition easier, then - and this is going to sound weird - go to an AA meeting. Or a breast cancer support group. Or an amyotrophic lateral sclerosis support group. You don't have to say you have any of these things, really you don't have to say anything at all, but it's a whole lot easier to meet people that will do anything for you and with you when you've heard their darkest stories and you don't judge them for it. Maybe it's a little manipulative, but it's the perfect idea. Go to a meeting, listen to someone lament over killing a stranger in a car wreck, give them a hug after, and suddenly they want to do your garden weeding for you on every Thursday until the day you die. Okay, that really does make me sound callous."
His phone groaned with the sound of heavy machinery, and he checked the text message that it implied. <******** me running, he mouthed. "Well then. It's been wonderful to chat with you, Gwen, but I've got to go down to the police station. Perks of owning a pawn shop and all. Thanks for the coffee, and I look forward to blowing up your phone." He stood, gathered the half-finished cup of coffee and his cane, then started away from the table.
Pressing the call button, he held the phone to ear. "Brett, hi. Yes I got your text. Could you pick me up? Yes, but let's try for a less popular location. I don't want people getting the wrong idea..."Kolina fin? want to start another when you get gwen's powered art?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
