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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 13, 2010 16:40:06 GMT -5
Once more.
It had become tradition, routine that is, for the center and highlight of his day to be within the four walls that held the smallest coffee shop one could imagine. It was barely the size of a pocket, squeezed between a jewelry shop and a drugstore - barely noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for.
If anything, the tiny shop was out of the way of usual end-of-the-workday traffic. That was a plus, even barring the quality of their beverages (which was exceptional - definitely award-winning.)
Right now, Lariss couldn't have cared if their mocha latte won a prestigious award or recognition from the prime minister. He was too far gone in his atrocious mood to be cheered up by much of anything, really. He fumed as he sipping the scalding drink, scarcely even noticing the burning liquid running over his tongue. Patrons who dared to glance his way were met with a piercing, multicolored glare and quickly turned back to their own business.
No, he was not in a chipper mood.
The boy reiterated as much as he mumbled to himself, pawing through his jacket pockets for his precious Tater.
"Why are people so idiotic?"
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Post by W h e l p z i e on May 13, 2010 17:13:15 GMT -5
.A FANCY MAN![/color] ---- It wasn't busy for once, the quarters of the train barely filled with bodies, clutching luggage to take with on the next nearing stop. Apollo enjoyed the ride no matter how many times he'd done in the past, or how many more times he'd do it in the future. His father conducted one of the last remaining 'old time' trains, nothing like the fancy trams found else where. Rustic and perfect for his tastes.
He brushed a hand over freshly cleaned upholstery, giving it a loving pat as they pulled into station. One of the fellow passengers shouldered him in a hurry for the door, and he scoffed at her lack of appreciation. The blond noticed the small, frail man in the corner, and gave a wave before heading to the stairs himself. Last of a dying breed, Apollo knew, and he could only smile faintly at the gentleman, gray all around.
Nearest to the door in a small, well loved seat, sat a equally elderly woman, a hand clasped on her purse. He turned up a lip in question and she waved at him with a small gesture. "Take to the streets and find a little coffee shop - a pretty little jewelry store with fancy jewels, and a pharmacy. My daughter takes me all the time."
"Thank you," he told her with a wink, obviously victim to routine like many others in the world. He took her hand and kissed it lightly, parting from the cab with a leap. The bell boy nodded in good bye, and Apollo returned it as he stated the arrival time. He took it with little note, some 26 hours before the train would make it's loop back to station. He had plenty the time.
It was moderately nippy in the area from dock to building, and as he worked to exiting he pulled cream scarf a little closer to his mouth. Long sleeved shirt, and a sharp little cream vest to match, he was suited for a walk, heading out with the vague directions. The sea foamed eyed man knew a bit of the layout of the town, as he'd spent time in many places other than his native home in Europe, and faintly he knew where the jewelry store was at.
Thankful his memory brought him to the right place, he took a moment to poke around before just noticing the sliver of wood that was shaped into a door. The pangolin placed a hand in his pocket, and proceeded forward, complete trust in the woman's tastes. OOC; You said post, so here, have one.
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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 13, 2010 17:25:06 GMT -5
The welcoming bell jangled through a well-worn earbud, startling the teenager out of a light doze - but upon realizing the source of the sound, relaxed from a tense and white-knuckled hold on his backpack. Lariss shrank further into his armchair in the corner, seeking to conserve heat (London was rather dreary and cold on this fine day) by drawing his knees into himself and pulling the grayish messenger bag with him.
He deliberately did not glance at the entrance of the small shop, still in the throes of his current mood swing. With a shuffle and shift of leaning forward and dropping his feet back to the floor, the boy reached for his mocha latte still resting on the table, and took another long draught. It was chilled by now, he realized, and choked it down with less than grace.
"Caffiene," he all but moaned to himself, and tore another five pound note from his wallet, stretching to his feet to walk to the end of the service line with a catlike yawn.
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Post by W h e l p z i e on May 13, 2010 17:36:24 GMT -5
.A FANCY MAN![/color] ---- He hung around the back for a moment, just observing the hand-chalked menu from afar, one hand still in his vest pocket. His free hand tugged away his scarf, pushing it under his chin where it was slightly more manageable for communication. Everything on the board seemed whimsical, something like a small Mom and Pop shop, only amplified by the small space.
It didn't take much to notice the other customer moving about, who seemed to be between scowling, complaining and demanding. Apollo observed silently for a moment between the boy and the sign before stepping up beside him with a thin line of a smile. "What would you recommend?"
It tickled him slightly inside the boy was taller despite the youth his slouch and overall appearance of grumpiness he was baring, but he remained polite, just eyeballing him carefully as he waited for a response. OOC;
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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 13, 2010 17:55:21 GMT -5
Lariss stifled a surprised reaction at the realization he was being spoken to, turning to the speaker with his mouth open to employ a rather sarcastic deflecting remark. While he took a moment to compute what was said - asked - he stared at the scarved man with a blank look.
"...Mocha latte," he answered at last, realizing he was speaking down to the mystery man that seemed to be utterly oblivious to his general gloom-and-doom. The boy turned away, stepping to stand in line behind the man with the crisp five-pound note still in his hand. Though after stating his drink of preference, he questioned whether to buy something else - that white chocolate and cinnamon cappuccino sounded really good, right about now.
"Caffiiiiiiiiiiene," he rasped, like a drug addict - because really, it was to him - careful to keep it low enough that the man in front of him didn't have another reason to turn around and address him.
His phone rang in his pocket, quite loudly, and Lariss slipped a curse as he fumbled to answer it quickly and redirect glances he was drawing.
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Post by W h e l p z i e on May 13, 2010 18:03:17 GMT -5
.A FANCY MAN![/color] ---- Apollo nodded in form of agreement, assuming the moment of silence had been taken in hard consideration at his response. The beverage did sound kind of welcoming, and he couldn't remember the last time he had anything beside pure-from-the-pot coffee.
He ordered as the abnormally haired boy reached to silence his noisy phone, which only caused the blond to grimace slightly. Another reason why he didn't appreciate electronics. He placed the money down with a flat hand, sliding it forward as he was handed the warm milk-based drink. He mused at the sturdiness of the cups before stepping aside.
Though the small size of the shop was perfect for keeping routine customers and closeness, it wasn't benefiting the moment. The small side tables all had various occupants, some whom had their items on the across chairs, and others who just didn't seem friendly. He blinked for a moment, green eyes disappearing behind freckled eye lids. Apollo took a tentative sip of his Mocha Latte, swiping just a tad from the rim, still a bit too warm. OOC; You.
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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 13, 2010 18:15:20 GMT -5
"...yeah, whatever Mom, I'll call you back later I have to order." The teen desperately tried to hang up, mildly hindered by the "bye honey, love you!"s being spewed through the speaker. With a sigh that held no shortage of relief, he pressed the 'end' key when his mother inhaled.
"Of all the.. white chocolate cinnamon cappuccino," he ordered, placing the bill on the counter with a hand still holding a cellphone. He pocketed the device, though not before making sure the ringer was set to 'vibrate'.
Lariss dumped his change in the tip jar by the register, scooping up his drink with a halfhearted smile to the cashier - he was well known around these parts, as nearly every day he would commandeer a table for his sketching.
As he turned, he realized the not-acquaintance was milling. He wondered why, until he glanced around and took in the unusually high crowd that must have sneaked in during his impromptu nap.
Oh, for the love of...
"I have extra seats," the teen muttered, gesturing to his messenger bag holding his armchair and the three armchairs situated around it.
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Post by W h e l p z i e on May 13, 2010 21:37:39 GMT -5
.A FANCY MAN![/color] ---- Apollo continued to sip idly, content to drink in his corner of the cafe, taking small pulls from his Mocha. As he was pondering the nearest walking distance parks, he stopped mid slurp, staring with green eyes.
"Thank you," he murmered around the plastic, tapping his teeth to the cap as he spoke. He followed in a slow shuffle, making sure his drink was stable even though tightly lidded. He swung a chair around with his free hand, positioning it alongside the table but away towards the center, respecting that it still was in deed the kid's spot. The blond settled in with a long sigh, crossing his legs as he continued to clutch and pull from his coffee.
He had only caught a glimpse of the well-worn messenger bag, and the little pencil marks and charcoal stains that adorned the outside and corners. From the way the boy grudgidly held his own drink, Apollo deducted he was most likely an artist. Appreciation for such things had made him keen, but he kept silent, just watching Lariss move around. Someone certainly awoke on the wrong side of the bed this fine morning. OOC; SHADES OF BLUE CONCERT WAS WIN~
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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 14, 2010 17:40:07 GMT -5
His hand left charcoal smudges on the drink, he noticed - that meant he forgot to spray a certain picture he'd been working on before curling up. With a shady glance to the side, gauging the man's view of his bag, Lariss unclipped the top flap to produce his black, bound sketchbook and a small canister of charcoal-set.
"Hold your nose," the blond muttered, covering his own as he set his drink far to the side and positioned the canister to spray.
Three short bursts, lengthwise across the paper, set the charcoal without much effort - but definitely with a stench. Mumbling an apology, the boy stashed his art materials to take out a less-formal notebook and a mechanical pencil.
Drawing muse struck hard and struck fast.
Utterly oblivious to where his companion's eyes might be focused, he hunched over the notebook on the table - the smell had, thankfully, dissipated - and began to sketch.
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Post by W h e l p z i e on May 14, 2010 18:19:21 GMT -5
.A FANCY MAN![/color] ---- Apollo only had gotten a minute to blink between warning and spray, momentarily holding his breath, drink still positioned close to his face. He watched from the corner of his eye, only breathing when the ozone-destroying can was stashed back away. His Mocha helped to hide any lingering odors, and he took a thankful sip from the cup.
He watched, amused as the younger boy began to sporadically move around, and at how un-phased the clerks and other patrons were. Apparently he was here often as he'd suspected earlier, and he felt a bit guilty for sitting in a spot that most likely was always claimed as his. He let out a long sigh through his nose, crossing his legs the opposite way.
Not wanting to be rude, he only half watched with green eyes between tedious sips (gradually getting larger as the drink finally came to a cool). Apollo had half a mind to ask the boy if he ever used graffiti as a medium, the oddly random punk clothes and odd hair style. The way he moved, the Brit wouldn't be surprised. And, if he wasn't, then he should probably take it up.
"Do you always use such mediums?" He asked, suddenly growing bold. It was a quiet, reserved voice though as not to disturb if the male wished to ignore him. OOC;
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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 14, 2010 22:24:37 GMT -5
He was in the midst of shading an iris when his companion's voice struck his ears.
"..Huh?" Lariss was careful to keep his hand steady to avoid a line through the paper, pausing to consider the question. "... yeah, usually," he said at last, shifting his weight as he noticed the chair pressing awkwardly on the inside of his thigh. He righted himself. "Mostly I draw people, and that's a touchy thing for people to look at so I keep my art to myself." The teen wasn't even aware of his anger vanishing, but it was gone now, to be replaced with a sort of bone-chilling indifference.
People are so shallow, he thought, reflecting on his earlier rhetorical question to himself. This man I'm talking to, right this moment, is the most interesting I've met in my life.
Around this time, he realized he knew nothing about this person.
"What's your name?" he asked, leaning his weight against an arm of the chair.
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Post by W h e l p z i e on May 15, 2010 8:35:00 GMT -5
.A FANCY MAN![/color] ---- Apollo listened, finally setting his coffee on the table beside his shoulder, only half empty despite his constant hold on it. He had to agree, especially when it was portraits, but he figured he was keeping them to himself for more than just that reason alone.
He was going to pick up his drink again when the boy asked him his name. "Apollo," he responded casually, and would of stuck his hand out to shake if he wasn't weary of possibly losing it, as the boy still seemed slightly disgruntled, with his smug way of sitting. "My father runs the train that goes past here, and I decided I'd do a little exploring for the day."
The Mocha latte was pressed back to his lips, and he took a decent gulp of it before replacing it on the table. He inched his scarf back down further from where it rode up and was scratching at his chin, smiling with a thin line at the silverette. OOC; N/A
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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 15, 2010 12:37:23 GMT -5
"I'm Lariss," the boy offered, nodding towards the named man. "Nice to meet you, Apollo." The title tasted of fire - of course, his fondness for ancient mythology would come back to haunt him.
He picked his chilled coffee back up again, taking a large gulp to mask his own smile.
"How long do you have until he leaves again?" he asked offhandedly, feeling a dim redness creep to the tips of his ears. It was embarrassing that the longest conversation he'd had with someone outside his family was not a London citizen, but a traveler.
I have to get out of here. Soon I'll be as brain-dead as the rest of them.
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Post by W h e l p z i e on May 15, 2010 15:10:21 GMT -5
.A FANCY MAN![/color] ---- He fidgeted with his scarf for a moment, the apparel being fussy with the blond man. He observed with the corner of his eye as the boy stated his name. "Well then, nice to meet you Lariss," Apollo responded formally.
Figuring it was mutual conversation he leaned back into his chair, observing the middle of the shop until the silver haired boy spoke again. He inclined his head. "Roughly... 24 hours, I'd say," he informed with a click of his tongue, blinking freckled eye lids. He traced a finger down the side of his cup, tapping on it a bit impatiently as if that number didn't please him.
"Been all sorts of places on that train, you'd think I've seen all this country has to offer, but I have yet to see the same thing twice," he continued on in a way of explanation as to why he'd ever comply with such things as being stranded in a town until train arrives. OOC;
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Post by a r s e n i c * on May 17, 2010 18:01:08 GMT -5
"Twenty-four hours?" Lariss fidgeted. Something told him that, had he been placed in the same situation, he wouldn't have left that train. There was something profoundly sad about visiting a city you'd probably never see again.. though, this was London, the political epicenter of the United Kingdom. Chances were he'd end up back here, anyway.
The teen found he didn't want to think of his newfound conversational partner leaving. Instead of contemplating that somewhat-dreary thought (knowing that every day he lived here, he drew closer to that state of hopeless uniformity), he secretly, shortly fantasized about stowing away on that train.
The idea was too stupid to voice, and the leBlaise boy seized his lips with his teeth as he bit at the flesh, angry at himself for even imagining such a possibility.
Preoccupied, he offered no response to any of Apollo's statements, only briefly noting the tap of his fingers against the synthetic liquid carrier. As an act of self-reassurance, the silverette tugged his worn messenger bag slightly closer.
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