b a s k e t c a s e

Time: Around 2pm

For: @catalinastarter​

Scraps of eraser rubbings and pencil shavings surround the thin piece of paper covered with notes written in messy handwriting that only he could read. The Russian-English dictionary by his side, just in case he needs it. He often finds himself in this position, overloaded with work because he decided to procrastinate during the month and now the deadline is a few days away. However, this was not a time to question his life choices, and he also knows that he can only work under pressure when adrenaline kicks in and sends his mind into overdrive. It's not ideal, but it works. Who was he to question this foolproof method?

The coffee shop is not the best place to work on this. It's too crowded, boisterous and full of distractions but since he has to work in an hour, he has no choice but to stay here and advance as much as he can. His earphones can barely muffle some of the noise but at least he was lucky enough to get a table for his own.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone approaching. Please don't, please don't. He thinks to himself but his inward pleads are ignored. He lets out a barely audible sigh before he picks up his backpack and places it in the seat next to him. “Sorry, this one is taken,” he bluntly lies without lifting his gaze from the sheet of paper. He knows that the place was full but he was that kind of jerk that hates when someone sits next to him, especially when he's in the middle of something else.

A snide remark, mumbled by a stranger who looked a few facial hairs shy of adulthood. Aly almost didn’t say anything back, but she’d been biting her tongue all week trying to play nice with her “husband”. It also irked her in all the wrong ways when someone couldn’t openly speak their mind. Cowardness was unbecoming. So, with a bright smile and in the sweetest voice she could possible muster, Aly said, “There’s no way you could know that.” 

Damn it! Why did he have to go and open his damn mouth? Now he had to engage in this conversation, and frankly, he would rather do something else. "Actually I can," he started, glancing her way but the sight of that bright fake smile was enough to make him look at his phone again. "It's simple, no cupcake is that good because cupcakes are the worst dessert ever hence I know that is not the best thing you've ever put in your mouth." Sure, desserts just as art, literature, and music were subjective but then again, he would also call out bullshit on that statement. "They are a smaller version of sliced cakes. Although, I guess it's the best dessert for people who can’t exert self-control." He shrugged and for a second he thought of flashing her a fake smile of his own, but he was too fed up to get caught up in childish games.

Her fingers wrapped around a glass as he spoke. The ice crashing together as she shovelled into the glass, watching the two shots of liquor fill the glass. Hues darting back to him. “That’s a good shout, honestly,” she mused softly, adding in the mixer, she slid the drink across the bar with ease in her grip. “Oof where do I start? Wonderwall maybe? Or Zombie by The Cranberries?” the words fell off her tongue as her hues darted to the list. Pointing towards those two songs on the list.

Axel nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with the first song on her list. He loved Oasis but damn, people really had found a way to make the song almost unbearable. "Sometimes I think Wonderwall is the one song that every human on this planet knows. I can't listen to it now without thinking of the many ways it's been ruined to me." He took a sip of his drink, but no amount of alcohol could erase those renditions. He can't help the groan that escaped past his lips when he saw both songs already written out on the sheet. "Can't people realize that they sound like screaming goats when they sing Zombie?" he mused with a shake of his head. He looked at some of the other songs on the list, rolling his eyes at the sight of one song. "Don't Stop Believing," he said, pointing out at the song. "I knew someone was going to put us through that torture."

       “Tacos are messy, man. And I happen to like the shirt I’m wearing today,” she argues, using her foot to roll her board back and forth as she sits next to the other male, the cool, sea breeze blowing past them. “Hmm, how about… nachos?” She grins at him, all toothy and too-aware of how they could spend two hours trying to decide what to eat when they could be well on their way to dessert.

"They're not messy, I think you are just grabbing them the wrong way," he says with a shrug, even if he could go on another rant. "I could argue that nachos are equally messy." To no one's surprise, he also has a well-formed opinion about nachos but he decides to not put Pidge through another five-minute argument. "Okay," he starts, letting out a sigh, "we can eat nachos or..." he glances her way as a smile starts forming on his lips, "we can just get ice cream, they're also messy but tastier than nachos."

For: @axel-levesque​ Where: Lafayette Square When: Friday afternoon

A bike ride. Wolfe had motivated himself to leave the house on this particular day by writing random activities on notebook paper he then tore up, scattered over the coffee table and picked one up at random, and a bike ride it was. Problem is, he doesn’t own a bike. Luckily a quick google search that was meant for finding the nearest store that might carry them pointed him in the direction of the touristy square where he could actually rent one.

One lyft ride and a coffee shop detour later, he’s finally standing outside the rental shop, but as usual, his eyes start to wander the bustling square, people watching mostly. It was a shamelessly pleasant pass time of his, probably the most distracting thing he willfully subjects himself to. It’s a fun escape for him to fixate on particular people and imagine their days, the conversation they’re having, even if it’s the most mundane thing he could think of. For brief moments he allowed himself to envy how ‘normal’ he imagined life to be for most people.

He was right in the middle of coming up with a scenario as to why someone at the shop across from him chose that particular floral pattern for their bermuda shorts that didn’t even match their top when his line of vision was disturbed by a small crowd passing through. He only realized they were being led when he heard the voice of the person he assumed was leading them, given the voice was amplified by a tiny speaker attached to his belt. Something about the voice struck him and it wasn’t until he saw the mop of dark curls framing pale skin and the jawline he would never forget in his life did a sense of curiosity and excitement work its way up and down his spine.

Before he knew it, he had joine the group, hanging all the way at the back. He wasn’t sure yet if he even wanted to be noticed or just stare. So many memories came flooding back just listening to the sound of that voice. The way it used to whisper in his ear from time to time, or groan in annoyance at another one of his terrible jokes. Glimpses of the head full of curls seeming to shift color in the sun reminded him of how much he missed it sometimes. How often he’d think about threading his fingers through it.

Wolfe was so lost in his daydreaming, he doesn’t realize the group has come to a stop and ends up running smack into the woman who has stopped in front of him, nearly knocking her over. He manages to stretch out a hand, catching her in time before apologizing profusely, as if his life depends on it. The small commotion causes several heads to turn and when the woman asks him why he looks so familiar, the musician smiles and shakes his head, using one of the thousands of dodges he’s now built an arsenal of to try and avoid being recognized. “No idea, but I get it a lot. Just one of those faces, I guess.” He’s doing his best not to have to look up towards the front of the small group in case Axel recognizes him, because he can just picture the face the other man is making already if that’s the case. The same one he uses to groan at his terrible jokes.

Second tour of the day, and to his surprise, he's not bored to death already. It could have something to do with the fact that the first tour he did was to a Spanish couple, it was a good way to dust off his Spanish and it was different for a change. Now he is leading a group, a good mix of local and international sightseers. Even if Catalina was not a big island, it wasn't rare to have a big group, most came in the first ferry of the day and after spending a few hours on the island they would board another ferry to return to Los Angeles. That is why he likes this job, no need to form long-lasting relationships.

However, when he took this job a year ago he really underestimated how tiring it was to be charming all the time. It's something that annoys him, but if the tips he receives are any indication of it, he somehow pulls it off. It's easy to slip into this role, this charming, polite alter ego takes ahold of him from the moment he turns on the speaker. The result of growing up in his family, he'd been raised to be the pinnacle of polite conversation, he had mastered the art of small talk and mindless chatter. It's not sincere, but it comes naturally to him.

The tour is about to come to an end, just a few more stops and he will be able to go back to his normal self. His cheeks hurt from all the fake smiles he's had to put on throughout the day and he just wants to sneak in a smoke break before the last tour of the day starts. He's explaining the story behind the name of the square when he hears some sort of commotion. He recognizes him almost as fast as the woman does. Instinctively he rolls his eyes when he hears his response, however, he can't help the semblance of a smile forming in his lips. People are starting to look at him, and while he would find it amusing to see how long it will take them to shout his name, he decides to give him a break. "Someone who didn't have one of those faces was Marilyn Monroe, so if you follow me I'll show you the house she used to stay in when she lived in Catalina," he says to the crowd, he shakes his head as he meets Wolfe's gaze and then turns to continue the tour.

A few stops later and the tour is done. He cracks a few jokes and then recommends them a few restaurants before he waves goodbye to the group. Soon enough it's just him and the gate-crasher. He looks his way for a few seconds before he walks towards him. He withdraws his pack of cigarettes as he stands next to him. "I would have prepared something if I had known a celebrity was going to crash my tour," he says, eyes studying his features, the ones that have become far too familiar. He looks exactly the same and yet somehow different from the man in his memories. Part of him wants to stare at him longer, but upon second thought he lets it go and returns his attention to the pack of cigarettes, pulling it one for before wagging the pack in front of him. "Want one?"

He decides to ask the question he's been thinking about since he saw him earlier that day. "Why are you here?" The tone in his voice is almost hushed and for a second Axel fears that it comes across as hostile. "You are not stalking me, are you?" he inquires, this time he makes sure his tone is lighter and playful. The corners of his mouth tweaked into a smirk as he lights the cigarette. While he hates surprises, and this one definitely counts as a surprise, his presence doesn't bother him at all.

       “Okay, can I be real honest with you? I have no idea what you just said.” PIdge cuts the other off mid-sentence when the admission comes out, but she pairs it with a warm, sincere smile so the other person doesn’t think she’s ignoring them on purpose. “Now, try it again, but in a Daffy Duck voice.”

Axel stared at Pidge in utter awe and feeling slightly offended for he had spent the past five minutes building a well-constructed argument— in his opinion—about how boneless wings are just the adult version of chicken nuggets. "I'm not going to say it again, the momentum is gone, and no, doing it in Daffy Duck's voice won't bring it back," he countered back before he let out a sigh. "The bottom line is that no, I don't want to go and eat boneless wings with you. What about tacos? I also have some thoughts about tacos, but my opinion is not strong enough yet to hate them."

Everyone loved the bar. Whether it was for it’s alcohol contents or not. For some people it was the buzz or being able to be surrounded by people; without needing to speak to any of them. She tried to pride herself on being as chipper as possible. Some people just needed a smile after a long day. She couldn’t help but laugh at his contorted face at her words. “I don’t blame you–– though most of them are too drunk to pay attention,” Sierra quipped, glancing around them. “It will make for an interesting show at least,” her shoulders shrugged backwards, flickering her gaze to the remnants of his drink. “Another?” nodding her head slightly.

Axel turned to glance around the bar, taking in the view and picturing the appalling renditions of popular songs that were about to happen. The mere thought of that made him wince once more, but she had a point it would indeed be a very interesting show. "Yes, please," he said before turning to look at her again. "Make it a double, though." He also needed to be slightly drunk to get through the show. "What's one karaoke song you are sick of people singing?" he asked, genuinely curious. He could think of some already, but he wanted to hear hers first.

​​WHO: open to everyone | @catalinastarter​​ WHERE: Bootlegger’s pub WHEN: Late afternoon

A yawn parted her pink fibers, watching drunk patrons wobble around the bootlegger. Her soft laugh slipping from her lips as she made herself busy cleaning glasses. It was surprisingly quiet and they had been occupied largely by locals and complaining husbands. “What can I get cha?” she quipped, leaning forward on the bar as she smiled at the them, glancing to some of their nosier customers. “You should stick around–– it’s open mic night and they’re preparing themselves,” Sierra winked, gesturing to singing radiating from other areas of the bar. “Do you want to have a go?” Waving the sign up sheet between her fingers. 

He didn't really enjoy the taste of vodka but he did like the way it produced numbness, then warmth in the mouth and throat. It was the closest thing to feel the emotion before making the first bet and the possibility of a great win. Trading one high for another was not the smartest solution to the rising anxiety he felt, but it was nights like this one when all he wanted was to head over to the casino and bet every damn penny in his bank account that left him with no other choice but to find a substitute. "Just another of this," he said, pointing out at the drink he was about to finish. Axel couldn't avoid the involuntary grimace on his face after she said the words 'open mic'. Was there anything more painful than that? He stared at the sign-up sheet for a few seconds before shaking his head. "I'm not that drunk to put my name on that list."

WHO: open @catalinastarter​

WHERE: the street anywhere

WHEN: 3/28/2020

With the night job came a certain amount of touching that Sofie was used to. She knew her limits, and when she had enough. But during the day, running errands, she’d hadn’t often encountered a person bold enough to touch her without her consent. So when a large hand landed on her arm, Sofie didn’t hesitate to drive an elbow into the audacious stranger who somehow felt entitled. As they struggled to catch their breath, Sofie had drawn a small crowd of rubbernecking followed by the tale of a walkie talkie beat cop. Muttering under her breath, Sofie skirted around the injured, hopefully, a little wise ass hole and fell into the crowd of people moving away from the scene. Clearing her throat, “Mind being my alibi for a minute?”

He noticed the crowd but he didn't know what was all the fuss about nor he cared. It wasn't until the woman stopped him that he got some clearance on what was happening, he noticed the cop and could tell that she was distressed. Under different circumstances, Axel would have asked more questions but he didn't feel like it at the moment, so why not do his good deed of the day and help her out? "Sure," he responded with a shrug, glancing the cop's way before returning his attention to her. "So, care to fill me in before the cop gets here?"

WHO: Aly & OPEN @catalinastarter​ WHEN: Late Afternoon, Mid-Week WHERE: Catalina Coffee & Cookie Co WHY: Aly indulges in some delicious treats.

Aly came to Catalina to get a divorce, but she was treating it like a mini-vacation. How could she resist the beautiful beaches and delicious cuisine? Today she had wandered into an adorable little cafe, lulled by the smell of coffee and fresh baked goods. She’d asked the girl at the counter for an assorted box of their best selling treats, of which none had been a disappointment. One in particular though, some sort of cupcake, had her literally moaning. It might’ve been embarrassing to anyone but the audacious Alycia Acosta. “Ooooooh my effing god! This is the best thing I have ever, ever put in my mouth.”

It was a shitty day to have forgotten his earphones. His job was easy, sometimes too easy but he hated the schedule and how most days he had to kill some time before the next tour. Going home for an hour was a waste of time, so he had no choice but to get into a coffee shop and kill some time. Normally, it was easy but without his earphones, he couldn't block the noise nor the thousands of conversations happening around him. It also didn't help that he was forced to listen to another damn Bon Iver song. Why couldn't coffee shop just play some ambient sounds? Nothing condoned the obnoxious, horribly outdated music. However, soon he would be proven wrong as there was something far more uncomfortable than listening to Holocene for the fifth time. "There's no way that cupcake is that good," he said, mostly under his breath but still loud enough for her to hear. He could have also added another comment but for once, he kept his mouth shut.