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Post by nikita baranova on Mar 22, 2012 20:04:13 GMT -5
Nikita walked into the little cafe, the enticing aroma of baked goods immediately wafting her way. She came to this place often, enough so that she might be considered a "regular." Or perhaps more than that as the staff knew what her usual was, and no longer needed to ask what she wanted. It was always the same for Nikita, a black coffee with an inch of room and a cinnamon roll. The coffee, of course, she would fill the inch with milk and stir in a packet of sugar, just like always. Nikita lightly shook her head at herself, she really was turning into a creature of habit.
"Same as always, Nikita?" called the barista from behind the counter, her sloppy ponytail swishing and a warm smile on her lips. "Please," Nikita replied, reaching into her purse for the appropriate amount of money to pay the young woman before she would go about getting the coffee and the all-too-delicious cinnamon roll. After the transaction Nikita waited patiently, running her fingers through her red tresses. It was an absent habit of hers, ever since she had been little she played with her hair when she was bored, concentrating, or just waiting around.
Nikita gave the barista a small smile when she received her order before whisking it away to the same corner table she always sat at. The one that faced both the door and the counter so she could people-watch as they came in. It only took a couple sips of coffee and a solitary bite of cinnamon roll for her to notice something, she was lonely. Nikita didn't usually come alone to this place, she sighed lightly as the bell over the door dinged, she half-hoped it might be someone she could talk to a moment...
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Post by Carson Benedict Edwards on Mar 22, 2012 23:18:49 GMT -5
Carson walked down the street, his hands in his jacket pockets. His ginger head was bowed over a bit as he walked, lost in thought. His eyebrows where slightly furrowed over his bright blue eyes. The skin between them was slightly wrinkled, yet the look somewhat worked for him.
He happened to look up right as he was walking past a little cafe. He stopped mid stride and looking inside. There weren't many people in there. A barista and a red headed girl. He then noticed the baked goods on display. His stomach growled when he saw them. Thinking back, he realized he hadn't eaten in a while. Shrugging his shoulders, he pushed the door open. Over the door a small bell rang, alerting the girl behind the counter that a new customer had entered.
As he walked in, Carson looked over at the red head sitting at the corner table. He smiled at her as he walked past on his way to the counter. When he reached it, he leaned down to look at the glass case to pick out a sweet. He smiled when he saw the scones. Standing back up, he finished his journey to the counter. Blue berry scone. He said with a smile to the girl behind the counter, his accent heavily noted as he said scone. And a hot earl gray, if you have it. he added as an after thought. He didn't much like coffee very much. His father and siblings all liked it, but he couldn't stomach the weird flavor of it. Oh well, at least he had tea.
Thank you. he told the barista when she gave him his order. Looking around the cafe, he looked for a place to sit. Every seat was open in place. Shrugging, he walked over to the red head he had seen when walking in. Stopping near her table, he motioned to the seat opposite her. Mind if I join you?
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Post by nikita baranova on Mar 23, 2012 14:29:11 GMT -5
Nikita smiled back at the guy who had gone to put in his order at the counter, if there was one thing about this small town she liked it had to be the friendliness of the people. Sure, there were plenty of jerks and bitches, but the population as a whole was tolerable, kindly, even. Though of course, it made her stick out like a sore thumb- despite being born and raised in America, Nikita had many a foreign quality to her. She supposed it came from her parents being more apt to use Russian in the home. It had set her back a bit when it came time for her to start school, but Nikita was figuring it out, she had managed to keep her head above water.
Though she did still wish there were more people around Jhoplin that knew even a lick of Russian, it was her first language, it was much easier for her to speak without having to think too hard on it. Nikita sipped her coffee, her blue-eyed gaze flickering over to the guy at the counter ever so often, but not with enough frequency to be creepy. What Nikita had not been expecting, however, was for the stranger to approach her and ask to join her at her table. The rest of the shop was empty, he could have had any chair he wanted, but he had asked to sit with her. Nikita wasn't sure what to think, usually people just left her to her own devices- and she very rarely initiated conversation.
"Of course not," said Nikita, gesturing to the chair across from her while moving her things so the boy would have a spot for his own. He looked vaguely familiar, they likely went to school together, though she couldn't place a name to his face. He was probably in a different grade, a senior by the looks of him. "I believe I have seen you at school before," said Nikita, absently brushing her hair behind her shoulders, she then took another sip of coffee, maintaining polite eye contact while assuming a slightly hunched posture that if read correctly hinted at her problems with self-esteem.
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Post by Carson Benedict Edwards on Mar 26, 2012 22:54:18 GMT -5
So far most of the people Carson had met in Jhoplin had been extremely nice. Of course there were the few rude people, but you find those everywhere. There was no escaping them. Except in this little cafe. Both of the people in there so far seemed nice. The red headed girl returned his smile as he passed and the girl behind the counter was all bubbles and sunshine. Well, most baristas were, but that was besides the point. They were paid to be that way.
Thanks Carson said with a smile as the girl said he could sit with her. He wasn't in the mood to be alone. And she seemed lonely herself. She also seemed familiar. Like he'd seen her at school or some place he was at often. Well that only left school and home. He very rarely went anywhere else. And she definitely wasn't around his house. And then his thoughts where confirmed when she made another comment. Yeah. I think i've seen you too. I'm a senior. Name's Carson. Carson Edwards. Sorry if I don't shake your hand quite yet. he said with a laugh as he lifted his hands to motion to their fullness.
Carson set his stuff on the recently cleared table then shrugged his outer leather jacket on while leaving his sweat shirt on. He folded the jacket in half before laying it over the back of the chair. Finally he sat down. Carson then stuck his hand out. It's nice to meet you. . .
OoC: Bah. Sorry for the shittiness that is this post. I'm running off 45 minutes of sleep currently. And this is Carson in his current outfit
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Post by nikita baranova on Mar 28, 2012 0:04:20 GMT -5
Nikita took a quick moment to take in the stranger's appearance, he was tall, likely slightly taller than herself (which was saying something when you're only half an inch shy of six feet). And he was fit, but not overtly buff. She liked those qualities in a person, at least when she was only looking at physicality- personality was a whole other ball of wax, one that she decided was much more important. Nikita took a quick sip of her coffee, nodding to say "you're welcome" when the young man thanked her for letting him sit with her. She still found it odd that he chose to approach her, it seemed in most people there was an innate sense to avoid her.
Though Nikita figured it was only natural, even as infants people tend to be wary of those who are different. It was through time and experience that people got over differences, if they ever did at all. Now that he was speaking a bit more, Nikita was catching something of an accent in his voice. She immediately found a dash of excitement spark within her, maybe she wasn't the only foreigner around Jhoplin after all. Though to call Nikita a foreigner was a bit unfair, she had been born in the very same town in which she attended high school, she couldn't help that her first language had been Russian, it was what her parents used in the home.
"It's all right," said Nikita with a friendly smile, "I am Nikita Baranova, a junior." When she spoke her name the syllables flowed off her tongue in a way that only a native Russian speaker could pull off. Her full name at times sounded awkward coming from American lips, different somehow. But not when she spoke it. She took another sip of her coffee as the boy she now knew to be Carson Edwards situated himself. "The pleasure is mine," said Nikita, accepting his hand and giving it a firm, though definitely a far cry from bone-breaking, shake. It had always weirded Nikita out when people didn't put any effort into a handshake, leaving her to grasp only a limp hand.
((OOC: No worries ^_^))
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