𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙥

open starter. location: downtown Hatchetfield

God, it's cold. Paul usually doesn't leave his apartment when the temperatures drop below freezing, but on the rare circumstance -- he's known to live a little dangerously. (And the rare circumstance happens every one to three months, to be very clear.) His coat is hung over the back of his chair as he waits, and he's not overly concerned until the door whooshes open, letting in a fresh breeze of winter air. (God, it's cold.)

Emilie ducks in, walks over to Paul, and he's quick to greet her with a smile. He waves off her concerns easily as he pulls the chair out, lets her settle comfortably now that she's inside. "Hey -- no worries. I know I'm annoyingly punctual. Even in current weather circumstances," he gestures out the window, to the lumpy snowbanks that litter the sidewalks. "Um -- coffee, for now, I think," he adds on, before his smile turns a little soft. A little nostalgic. "It's good to see you, Em," he admits through a slow exhale. "How's Hatchetfield been treating you?"

Her shoulders deflate with relief as a soft laugh escapes her lips. She wasn't necessarily worried about Paul having feelings, no. It was just something they hadn't broached, so there was a gray area that needed to be discussed. Paul? He was going to be an incredible partner for someone someday. He was someone's textbook dream guy. He was everything good in this world, truly. But Emma knew that she had too many jagged edges within her, edges that she never wanted to scrape someone as good as Paul with.

"Hey, that's okay. People talk and assume, and that's not your fault," she assured as she reached over to place her hand on his bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm... a dick for ditching you, and I'm so incredibly sorry about that, Paul. I want to make that right with you. That's what's important to me right now."

When she reaches out to break the tension, Paul instantly sags with relief. The sinking feeling in his stomach begins to fade, and his smile is genuine as he places his hand atop hers, gives her palm a reassuring tap. (The most affection he's ever shown to someone, surely, but Paul and Emma are comfortable with each other in a way that Paul's found it hard to do with anyone else. It's truly refreshing to find someone that gets it without any preconceived notions attached.)

Nodding, he levels her with a gaze. "Well, then we can hang out this weekend, or something. Hate watch some crappy television, eat some crappy junk food... the works. Let everything just wash away in the new year, huh?" Chuckling softly, Paul leans back, takes another sip from his coffee. "Which, by the way, I think you made quite the impression on some of the party goers. My co-worker, Ted? He's had some... interesting things to say about you."

We're friends. Just friends.

The words make Ted's eyebrows lift without thought, slight confusion and surprise marking up his expression. He was quick to mask it though as Paul continued with his thoughts. How someone at the party got that skewed and made it seem there was more there. There wasn't. Not that he didn't think Emma was attractive-- Ted had to bite his tongue from saying something about that. Had to fight the way he wanted to murmur a quiet you have no idea, but fought it back. For once. Instead he waits for Paul to finish, waiting for him to explain his thoughts further in how he's trying to track down the source of the rumor. Ted gives a shrug, unhelpful in motion as his lips tip downward then back up into a casual grin, "Can't say I know anything about that. Only really talked to her some that night." Lies. Again, for once he was able to keep his mouth shut.

Well... "But I can definitely see why someone may start that rumor," he lifts a hand to rub at his jaw and chin, eyes going somewhere as he continues, "She is very attractive and anyone would be crazy not to want to pursue that perky little number." He winks at Paul, eyes shining after and mouth dazzling with a cheeky grin, "She's got this... grab you by the balls and make you want her thing going on." Taking back all that for once stuff after that one.

Paul is quiet as Ted -- well, while he does Ted things. There's a flash of panic behind his eyes before a brief sigh. The groan is stifled as his hands tap against each other rhythmically, and Paul can't do much of anything that's not a soft nod. "Well, if it wasn't you," he presses on, "I guess I'll keep asking around. There's too many busy bodies that work here," he comments, eyes flicking around the room. (For a second, Melissa catches his gaze, and Paul turns away to focus on Ted once more.)

His words are... expected, to say the least, and Paul's smile is uncomfortable. "I guess you could say that," he speaks, trying his best to avoid the topic altogether. (Paul and Emma have always been friends. While he's a man with eyes that can admit she is good looking, he's never felt that pull to her, really. It's strange to think about, and his nose wrinkles as he gets lost in thought for just a moment.) "But, um -- thank you, I guess, for being honest with me," he adds on, a strange sense of relief settling in his chest. "I just -- I wanted to set the record straight. I don't owe anyone any sort of... explanation, of course, but -- for my own sake. For my sanity."

there was a deep pit of guilt as paul talked. he wasn't one who should be explaining or carry some sort of apologetic tone, no. he had invited her and she had bailed on him. it was a dick move, friend or not.

she shook her head and frowned, gesturing for zoey to be productive and take over so she could step aside with paul. " hey, no. you did nothing, " she assured, releasing a quiet sigh. " i should have told you what was happening. i should have told you before i left with -- " the abrupt end of that sentence caused her face to pinch, a quiet sigh leaving her lips.

" you did nothing wrong, okay? " she assured with a genuine glint in her eye and a light frown. " i . . . did leave with someone. it was in a whim and unexpected, but i should have told you before ted and i left . . . " well, there it was. " i'm sorry, paul. "

He's quiet as she explains. He wants to give her the space to be honest, and part of Paul is genuinely terrified that he did something to jeopardize their friendship. He's not in control of his friends, of course -- though, he's not sure that his co-workers are his friends, necessarily. (Aside from Bill, of course.)

As she explains, things start falling into place. He didn't expect her to leave with someone else, of course, least of all Ted. But, the relief that settles within him knowing he didn't screw up is more than enough to have him sagging, lips curling into a soft smile.

"Thank God," he starts, laughing around the words. Hunched over, his hands brace on the countertop, the nerves finally seeping out of his pores. "I -- no, hey, Emma -- it's fine. I'm not -- we aren't --," he gestures between them, trying to make his point obvious. "I wanted to bring you as my friend. And I think... I think someone just, got the wrong idea and ran with it, like they always do. So I'm sorry," a hand presses to his chest, "if someone made you uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention when I initially invited you to come with me." He pauses, shrugging a shoulder. "I just didn't want to suffer through that bullshit by myself."

He knew Paul's answer was going to be something boring to a degree. Okay, maybe boring was a harsh word to use, but could you blame him? Compared to his night it was the most boring thing to hear. Quiet. Preferred quiet at that. He had to fight the way he wanted to roll his eyes, instead humming a sound of approval and understanding with a forced grin. He didn't want to seem like he wasn't interested in talking to Paul, but he felt anxious and a bit off with the situation. He knew something Paul didn't and he wasn't too sure if Emma had talked to him yet or not--

did you get to meet my friend? at the party?

Ted's got a terrible poker face and it's showing as he stares at Paul, eyes a bit wide and lips parted as if he was ready to say no. He doesn't though because he knows if he tries to lie about something so simple as meeting the woman it'd be seen through. So he clears his throat and shifts a bit in his chair, leaning back and resting his arms on his rests in order to appear far more casual than how tense he'd suddenly felt, "Erica, right?" He pauses then lifts a hand to snap fingers, shaking his head, "No, Emma. It was definitely Emma." He smiles, casually of course, "Yeah, got a chance to meet her at the, uh, punch bowl." Not a complete lie to the whole truth there.

He messes up her name, and for a moment, Paul thinks this conversation is over. However, the clarification that Ted did know who Paul was talking about has him nodding his head slowly. His hands begin to rub together -- an anxious habit he's had since he was a kid -- and Paul's lips twist into a grimace. (He can't believe he's about to ask Ted Spankoffski for advice, but right now? He's at the end of his rope.)

"Yeah! Yeah. Emma," he validates. "I -- good. That's good. I'm glad she got to meet some of my co-workers. Honestly, I was a little afraid to bring anyone -- I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about her and I." His words trail off into an awkward laugh, and Paul looks at Ted, eyes wide and only a little manic as he speaks. "We're friends. Just friends. And I think... someone at the party maybe put it into her head that I wanted to be... more than that? When I do not." It's said a little too resolutely, and Paul backtracks. "Not that I don't think she's attractive." Now his foot's in his mouth. Gesturing, Paul's hands cross in front of him, as if to wipe the conversation clean.

"What I'm trying to say," he presses on, "is that -- I'm trying to track down the source of the rumor. So I can tell them the truth, and... tell them off." (Or, well -- as much as someone like Paul Matthews can tell someone off.)

Ted was seated in his office Friday morning, eyes on his monitors but barely locked into whatever he was doing. He was meant to be working on some help articles, but instead he was zoned out in thought about the day prior and the night of New Year's. He couldn't get out of his head about it-- not in a bad sense, but in a near obsessive sense. He'd had the time of (what felt like) his life with the likes of a very crabby barista. A barista that had arrived at the party with Paul rather than him, but definitely left with him before the ball even dropped and said the turn of the year was here. He was almost certain too that Emma hadn't told Paul she was leaving and that... well, that wasn't necessarily Ted's problem. Or maybe it was, he wasn't too sure the logistics that came with stealing someone's date. As often as he hoped something like that would happen... it never had until that moment and fuck was it good.

The sound of light knocking against his open door draws him from his thoughts, eyes and head turning to find Paul. hi, ted. He blinked up at him not exactly expecting to talk to him this morning... which was a bit out of the norm for Ted. Generally he was in everyone's business, but today he'd particularly avoided Paul as to not confront the situation of something awkward. Did he know yet? Had Emma texted him? Or had they spoken in any capacity? He wanted to say no, but Ted didn't have Emma's number-- forgot to ask for it and blanked on remembering during their time together. He couldn't ask her.

"Oh, hey, Paul," he straightens a bit in his seat and gives a nod, "Yeah, yeah," short pause, "it was really good." He licks over his bottom lip in momentary thought, "Got really lucky with some company," a wink as if he couldn't resist the bragging tease that he'd gotten lucky. He knew, in his heart, Paul didn't care to hear about it... but when did Ted ever think with that. "Did, uh, did you?"

The conversation he's met with isn't surprising, to say the least. As Ted speaks, Paul's head tilts in thought -- did Ted arrive with someone? He didn't remember seeing anyone in tow when Ted arrived. Though, that's not to say someone couldn't have shown up at a later point. Honestly, after Paul lost Emma, he didn't stick around for too long. His apartment was much better company than a party full of people he semi-tolerated, and mostly because he was paid to do so.

So, with a tight lipped smile, he nods. "I can only imagine," he states, the words slightly sarcastic. (Though Ted must be used to it by now -- Paul is never really interested in his... adult adventures, so to speak.) Shifting, he presses on. "I, um -- yeah, it was okay," he agrees evenly. "Kind of quiet, honestly, but that's all right. That's what I prefer, anyways." He trails off into awkward laughter, and Paul lets the silence hang for another moment or two before he asks, "Did -- um, did you get to meet my friend? At the party?"

emma knew that she owed paul an explanation. it was a dick move to be invited somewhere just to ditch the person who had invited you. she and paul? they were best friends, at least that's what she thought. but as conversation fell that night, as people questioned who she was to paul? she panicked, and well, emma had a long history of questionable decisions. not that the night and the following day had been questionable, no. fuck . . .

the voice caused her to do a double take before she released a quiet sigh. " hey, " she greeted with a small smile, moving over to get a cup and the pot of coffee. she wasn't going to key it in - it was the least she could do. " i was hoping you'd come in this morning . . . i wanted to talk to you about the other night . . . and apologize for leaving early. it wasn't cool of me to do that to you. "

she placed a lid on the cup and the cup into a sleeve before sliding it to him with a small smile. a peace offering.

He can tell things are a little uncomfortable -- Emma's smile doesn't meet her eyes, and while that's not usually a problem, Paul can sense that something's shifted. That something was off. It makes him anxiously shift back and forth, and he reaches out to take the coffee with a silent nod. (He notices she doesn't ring him up, but it doesn't stop him from digging into his pocket, grabbing a $5 and sliding it across the counter top.)

"Hey -- it's okay," he starts, hand waving off her concerns. "I didn't want to come and... corner you at work, or whatever," he adds on, though the laugh that follows falls a little flat. A little sad. His hand taps the lid, and Paul swings around the other side, away from the register, to let other people order (should they come in). "I just, um," he starts, hand beginning to gesticulate in the air. "I'm sorry if something... happened. If I did something that made you want to leave," he explains. "I know some of my coworkers can be a little --," he pauses, lips pursed, "-- well, they're assholes, hah. So I can only imagine what they said, if they got to talking with you."

who: open starter! where: beanie's coffee shop notes: i just remembered the actual menu is my header, so use that or just assume they have the basics of it all since things are missing. lmao

the buzz of the holidays had ended, leaving hatchetfield and the rest of the world in the gray area of recovery. the coffee shop had hardly stopped in its constant grind ( ha ) to keep travelers, shoppers, and those still having to brave work awake with caffeinated beverages and shitty pastries. today was no exception.

emma had opened beanie's this morning and was working through her morning shift. she was wiping down the counter when the next customer came to the register. her eyes lifted and she offered a small, friendly smile to the consumer. " hey there. what can i get ya? "

he's a little uneasy as he enters beanie's. usually, there's a calm about him -- this coffeeshop, despite the singing barista, is a safe haven for him. his best friend works here. (however, after the ccrp party, he's not sure if he can call her that anymore. she'd disappeared almost as soon as they had arrived -- did paul do something wrong? there weren't any labels, no pressure to be anything other than what they are -- friends. stupid nosy co-workers.)

the bells chime above his head as he enters, and paul approaches the counter sheepishly. a hand rests atop the cash wrap, and nervously he taps against it before speaking. "got an easy one for you," he starts, aiming for nonchalant. "just a cup of black coffee -- for here, if that's okay," he adds on. (bombarding her at work seems like a bad idea, in theory, but paul's been going stir crazy in his apartment. he just wants to talk.)