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[r] delivery [will/vanya]

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Noir Songbird
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2023 1:57 pm


Will had to admit, he felt like something of an idiot. He'd decided to spend his day in one oft he parks off campus--it was gorgeous, springy, and exactly the kind of day he wanted to be outside during. Besides, he had a paper to write and readings to do, and those were always better tucked in the shade of a tree at one of the lovely tables in the park-space just off DCU's main campus.

Yes, okay, he could have done this in the library--except that he intended to be there all day, taking up a space, and he'd had a few too many experiences with librarians worrying over his low food consumption and high caffeine consumption, and....frankly he simply did not want to worry about that today. Also, there were other people there. His classmates might think to find him and ask for assistance, even if he was planted with headphones on, and that was....just....no.

And he could have done this int he student center, but that was just far, far too loud. No chance to focus, not when he had to turn up his music so that was interrupting his thoughts instead of people's chatter.

No, the park was perfect. Fae fewer interruptions since any fellow students would undoubtedly not be studying, outdoor setting, nice and comfortable.

The problem was that even if he wasn't particularly fussed about eating while studying, his body sort of was, and he'd found his focus drifting.

Ugh.

So he'd ordered delivery--there was a Japanese place he'd walked by a few times, and truth be told, their food looked good from the outside and a bento box combo sounded like exactly what he needed to get through the rest of his writing session. All easy to eat while he worked.

He'd left a description--tall, blonde hair in a high ponytail, under the old aspen tree--and now he just had to wait.


amorremanet
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2023 2:29 pm


Vanya needed to learn what trees were what.

He has never thought that this was something he’d need to learn in his life. Frankly, the only trees he liked caring about were abstract, theoretical ones that needed saving or planting for, like, ecological preservation reasons or whatever people went on about when they thought he rode his bike everywhere for environmentalist kinds of reasons rather than “not being able to afford a car” kinds of reasons……or, like, fictional ones in good pieces of cinema. Anyone who handed him a chance could have easily gotten him to talk for an hour about the way that Francis Ford Coppola constructed shots around the jungle in Apocalypse Now, how he perfectly brought Joseph Conrad’s descriptions of the Congolese jungle from Heart of Darkness to life despite relocating the story to Vietnam and filming in the Philippines, and why everyone who thought Hearts of Darkness was a better viewing experience was wrong, always and forever, this is not a question or a matter of opinion, thank you.

(Seriously, how could some overly long “behind the scenes” featurette even compare to Actual Literal Art like Apocalypse Now? The absolute nerve of some people.)

Not that Vanya’s true and objectively correct thoughts on Apocalypse Now were helping him find where he was meant to take this delivery. As much as Vanya appreciated having some extra time—outside the restaurant, he didn’t have to wear an apron and cover up his shirt with a screenprint of one of the posters from Coppola’s best film—he didn’t want to keep the customer waiting too long. They probably needed the food, and more importantly, Vanya needed a decent tip, please.

Thankfully, there weren’t too many dudes out in the park with blonde ponytails today. Noting the tree’s white bark and fledgling yellow leaves for later—in case someone else used “aspen tree” as a visual marker and expected Vanya to know what that meant aside from “he didn’t pay very good attention to middle school science trips into various nature preserves in the Bayou, he mostly spent them mentally composing shots for films he’d never get to make”—Vanya put on the brakes and looked to the blonde guy.

“Will Corday, I presume?” God, he hoped so.

Being around a successful DCU student who actually had his life together would make Vanya’s skin itch before too long. Best to give the nice guy his food and then politely skrunkle away back to the rat-hole of Vanya’s own general existence.


Noir Songbird

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PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2023 9:38 pm


Will barely noticed the time passing as he waited for his order. He was absorbed in cross-checking references, checking his sources, pulling new articles out of JSTOR. If he intended to throw an argument back in his professor's face, he was going to have it cited as extensively and professionally as he could manage. It was the only thing he could do if he wanted Dr. Craftwell to take his arguments seriously.

Not that he would, regardless, Will was pretty sure, but sometimes it was about making a point, and if his argument was well-crafted and meticulously cited, Dr. Crafthall would have to give him a good grade regardless of if he agreed with him. And that, in and of itself, would be a victory.

So he startled, a little, when someone called his name, but he still flashed a polite smile.

"Will Corday, yes," he said, and he fished out his wallet, producing a ten dollar bill and offering it in exchange for his food. "Thanks, I know it's probably a pain in the a** trying to find a random table in the park. I hope my directions were helpful enough?"


amorremanet
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2023 11:37 pm


It wasn’t often that Vanya had a reason to smile for anything more than rote politeness while making a delivery. But a customer who actually seemed to understand and care about the delivery boy involved in the process of getting them their food? Made him smile, even if it was a smallish one (and not as big a smile, admittedly, as Vanya would have managed for any of the shenanigans that came from delivering to the friendly neighborhood coven of anarchist lesbians).

“It was a lot better than with some people,” he admitted, handing over the bag with Will Corday’s food and happily taking his ten-spot. True, Vanya hadn’t exactly known how to identify an aspen tree, which had made that particular piece of direction useless, but he’d learned something today, and it wouldn’t be the best form to make Vanya’s own “I didn’t pay attention in middle school science class” bullshit into Will Corday’s problem. “Some people will just say ‘the redhead in Southside Park’ and act like that’s enough. Anyway, you need change for this, just a sec……”

He reached for the roll of bills he kept in one hip pocket, ready to use with customers.


Noir Songbird

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PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2023 11:45 pm


Will huffed. "I would have been more specific, but there's a certain point where it starts to sound less like delivery instructions and more like a dating profile. Six foot three and muscular, you know." He shrugged, amused. "But I'm glad they were helpful enough."

He shook his head, though, when the delivery boy started reaching for change. "No, no, that's all yours. Consider it some consideration for having to find me at such a weird, unspecific address."


amorremanet
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2023 11:55 pm


Vanya paused, hearing the “no” and blinked at Will Corday for a moment before breaking into a broad grin. “Hey, if you’re going to tip cash, you can get delivery at all the weird and unspecific addresses you like. Just don’t ask me to climb up a wall like Spider-Man or something impossible like that.”

Vanya laughed a bit at the very idea. Please, he wasn’t cut out for anything so crazy and daring. He was skinny, he’d run away from Shreveport (and incidentally his family, not that any of them had given a damn) instead of going to college, and outside of Twitter, various forums, and the Youtube comments section, the idea of actually fighting somebody kinda made him want to cry. He liked vinyl records, and The Mountain Goats, and coming up with elaborate mental scenarios that somehow wound up proving he was not half-Russian but actually half-Italian, and specifically, half-Coppola, and his real father actually wanted him around to be part of the creative dynasty.

None of which would ever happen. Because he was normal, and boring, and……yeah.

Best for him to clear out before whatever Perpetual Hot Mess Disease he had started to infect Will Corday, a human person who actually seemed to have his life together.


Noir Songbird
fin~!

Amor Remanet

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