lavender

somewhere in the back of her messy brain, gwyn knows she's being difficult over something that was kind of a non-issue. unfortunately for this particular librarian, that was par for the course. if you think about it, you really almost have to be difficult to get what you want! case and point. “are they working today? if not i can leave my card. i'd do it voluntarily, no need to hire me as a contractor." she adjusts, one hand dropping to the zippered pocket she keeps her card ( for emergencies ), the other tucking the book behind her back ( lest he read the title ). french tipped fingernail slides the card across the library's checkout counter into his space. “do you at least have a return cart?" maybe she could shuffle her choice in there, keep her secret. 

“Yes,” Roman says, audibly relieved that he can pass her along to someone else. He looks at the little clock in the corner of the library computer screen. “They, um…they usually take lunch around 12:30, so you still have some…some time if you wanted to talk to them today.” He looks at her entirely earnest, his expression so deadpan that one would be forgiven for thinking he was a statue at first glance. “No,” he says, only a slight widening of the eyes and a quirk of a brow indicating that he might not be entirely serious. “We…we prefer for patrons to toss books at the building. Like…” He pauses. “Like a Frisbee. We offer bonus points if they hit a window without breaking it.” He holds up a hand. “But…points are detracted if they hit a librarian. Especially a headshot.”

Piper laughed quietly, endeared by the cute little pose. "I'm sure it helps bring in business. Everything I've had here is very good and it certainly doesn't hurt that all the bakers here are cute. Do you ask for a headshot when you're hiring?" She teased, eyes first scanning Maureen- as her nametag read- and then the shelves of baked goods. Maybe she'd get some bread, a nice baguette for soup later in the week. "Thank you espléndida, I'm honored to be the first to try it." And it was very good. The cake was bouncy and lighter than air, just a touch over sweet that balanced perfectly with the tartness of the strawberries. Piper wasn't much of a dessert person, but even she could admit when something was good. "I really liked that. You balanced the tart and sweet very well and the actual cake was so light. It's a great dessert for this time of year." Piper said, once Maureen had come back less red.

Maureen smiles brightly. “Oh, yeah,” she says, nodding earnestly. “We also have to send in a reel, you know, like a demo? Showing off our dimples, if we can tapdance, stuff like that.” She flashes another smile, both at the term of endearment and because Piper agreed to take a taste. Maureen loves when someone agrees to try something she’s made, and it certainly doesn’t hurt if that person is gorgeous. Her face lights up with genuine pleasure when Piper gives her review, the towel still slung over her shoulder where she had wiped the sticky, sweet strawberry filling off her hands and face. “Thank you,” she says, beaming. She lifts her face up to Piper and smiles up at her. “All clear?” she asks.

⚽ "they're called cleats." nata corrects, pinching two fingers to zoom in on the screen, taking in the details of the shoes in question. she wonders what this model would feel like on, if they'd suddenly invigorate her desire to practice again. strange, considering non of the plethora of cleats she had could.

“Are they all…like that?” Hazel asks, leaning forward to look at the zoomed-in picture. She understands that they’re for athleticism or whatever, but does that mean they have to be so…well, boring? And ugly? “So the little…” She points. “Spikes or whatever, they’re for what? It’s definitely not aesthetic.”

even while he's insisting he isn't happy all the time, he's smiling. for a moment, daphne wishes she could do that. fake it 'til you make it, if not genuinely find happiness in the smallest moments, but that part of her had died when her marriage did. she couldn't trust joy anymore, because it never seems to last. "do you, though?" she asks with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. "that does sound good, though. I do find ice cream more a 'fixer of all problems' myself, but chocolate sounds good." she hums, then laughs a little. "and more likely in a coffee shop, too. can I get a chocolate chip cookie and a latte, then, please? are the cookies warm?"

“I do,” Peter confirms mildly. He smiles and shrugs, indicating he can tell she doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t really mind. She’s far from the first person to question how his outlook can actually be that sunny, and he supposes she won’t be the last. He smiles again as she speaks. “Well,” he says, “we do have vanilla ice cream for affogato. That’s it, though.” He offers another smile, the habitual expression of his face. “Absolutely,” he says, grabbing a cup and writing the order on it. “The cookies are warm. And fresh baked. Not by me, though. I can make those cookies that come in the tube and you cut them, you know? That’s it.”

her smile softened. not with pity, but with quiet amusement. “that's probably the least pretentious answer anyone's ever given me.” she glanced down at the record in his hands before looking back up. "i was expecting a speech about analog warmth or how streaming has killed the soul of music." a small laugh escaped her. “you just skipped straight to we spend too much time glued to screens. refreshingly practical.” tilting the album she'd been holding, she studied the cover for another moment. "i don't think vinyl makes someone interesting, either." her gaze flicked back to him. “people do that well enough on their own.” a beat passed before she added, almost casually, "though i think the fact that you've answered honestly instead of trying to impress a stranger says more about you than whatever record you're holding."

Roman considered her words for a moment before giving a small shrug. “I’m sure…I’m sure there are people in, um, every generation that think their way of listening to music is better,” he said. “Whether it’s…warmth or soul or just sound quality. It’s one of those opinions that I think is really just…subjective.” He smiled a little as she spoke. “I suppose I’m not, um…not quite a Luddite, but I don’t…really get into it much. I have my phone, a laptop, and…and a TV in the living room.” He offered another small smile. “Oh, I don’t…I don’t really try to, um…sell myself or anything,” he said. “Or…I don’t know -- edit myself. I’m usually…just thinking about the right thing to say, period, let alone the right thing to say about myself.”

starter: maureen ( @ecrivainlcvande ) location: cake a diem, ocean avenue

“Hi!” Maureen smiles brightly at him, lifting her dark hair off her neck and absently fanning at her skin. He’s right about working in the bakery, although she’s never really minded so much as just accepted it as fact. If it’s a price to pay for doing the work she loves, that’s fine. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing ever?” she says, her eyes widening slightly in genuine surprise. “It’s really bad, isn’t it? You’d think living in Massachusetts we’d get a little relief. At least we aren’t in South Carolina or whatever. I have a cousin in Charleston and she says it’s 90 degrees today without factoring in humidity.” She smiles, chewing on the pad of her thumb for a second as she considers. “Mixed berry, please!”

starter: roman ( @ecrivainlcvande ) location: little theater, electric avenue

Roman flinches as a strange hand fell on his shoulder, turning around with his eyes wide as if someone had started a gun by his ear. “Um…” His brow furrows at the question, his fingers tugging lightly at the hem of his t-shirt. “I think…sometimes a movie can still be a good film even if it’s not a, um, a faithful adaption. It doesn’t have to be beat for beat. In fact, I…I would prefer it not to be. Otherwise there really isn’t any point in, um, in translating it into a different medium. Or even when they…when they scale it back. American Psycho, for example, is more, um…more graphic in various ways than the movie, and I think Christian Bale really embodied Patrick Bateman.” He pauses. “So I…I suppose it’s possible, but I wouldn’t say I’ve ever felt that way my…myself.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow, though she was still smiling. “Have we met?” she said. “I overthink everything. It’s basically my job to overthink for other people.” She snorted softly. “For the record, I wouldn’t except that without a doctor’s note,” she said, but there wasn’t much bite to her words. Lex was one of the few people who didn’t get predominantly, if not exclusively, an acidic response from Hazel. She propped her chin on her hand. “So, tell me,” she said. “Anything new with you? No one I should verbally eviscerate on your behalf, right?”

Mentioning his relationship may not have been the best move to someone who had been married to his late sister, but nonetheless, Wes appreciated the support. "You're right. It could be all of the above. It just kind of stings sometimes. Especially when someone who is supposed to be one of my closest friends isn't happy for me. I could understand if like, he wasn't treating me well, but it's the opposite. I sure hope I'm not hurting anyone. I mean, I don't think that's the case. But thank you, really. I appreciate your feedback." Wes nodded softly, knowing that if anyone knew about how happiness could fade, it was Roman. Hopefully discussing pets and books and movies might steer the conversation into a happier subject. "Well, it looks like you're in a pet-friendly household now. Tom here seems extremely happy and friendly." Wes watched the interaction between Roman and Tom, and he smiled to himself. "That's amazing! Maybe he wants you to read it to him. Have you ever tried?" Although it was partly a joke, Wes could see the cat likely enjoying it. "Maybe I'll try some. If I do, I guess I know which one to start with, since they come highly recommended by an expert," he quipped with a bright grin. "Is the first book the best, or do they only get better as they go?"

He knew logically that there was no reason Wes shouldn’t mention his relationship, and of course, he wanted to be there for someone who was both his brother-in-law and his friend. But selfishly, it just served to remind him that he was alone, and he couldn’t imagine that being any different. Couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Roman’s eyebrows drew together slightly as Wes spoke. “Who?” he said, his tone more than a little protective. Not that he was a confrontational person, but he didn’t like the idea of someone being cruel to somebody he cared about. “I think…” He paused to consider how best to phrase it. “I think, a lot of the time, we should be sorry when we hurt someone, or…or someone is hurt by something we’ve done. Even if we didn’t meant to hurt them. Because intention doesn’t always matter.” He swallowed, thinking of his brother. “But sometimes, people are hurt by us because of…because of themselves. Maybe they’re looking for something to be hurt over, or it’s just an issue of their own. I think if anyone is hurt by you and Noah, it might be, um, something like that.” He chuckled softly. “No, I haven’t, but maybe he would,” he said. “I was doing some research online, and I saw that they…they like the sound of our voices.” He smiled again as Wes spoke. “They get a little more, um…action-oriented later on, since we start getting into battles after the first book. But I’d recommend starting with The Hobbit. It’s referenced in the first LOTR book, plus it was, um, written for a younger audience, so it’s an easy way to get started in that world.”

"Maybe you're right. About overdoing it being hard. The caffeine content, I'm not actually sure about. Some of these newer energy drinks have a lot though." So maybe ordering cold brew multiple days per week wasn't as bad as he worried it might be. Russell saw Peter's expression and worried that elaborating further wouldn't be good for him. "I feel like if I answer that question, you're going to perseverate about it."

Peter smiled as he spoke. “We’ve looked into it, trust me,” he said, waving a hand to indicate the cafe at large. “We’ve thought about adding refreshers with energy drinks to the menu, so we were looking into the caffeine content to make sure we wouldn’t be overdoing it. I think we’re still workshopping them, but if we move forward, I’ll tell you so you can pass it along to your brother.” He grinned at Russell playfully. He paused to consider what the word perseverate meant in context, and then decided, “Probably not until tax season.”

Maureen smiles. “I know, I know, it sounds a little weird,” she says. “But you’d be surprised what flavor profiles work together, or combinations of flavor and texture. I mean, think about chicken and waffles, or pork chops with apple sauce.” She holds up a finger. “Now, granted, I’m not a chef, merely a lowly baker, but I myself have experimented once or twice. Do they always come out? No! But then I know better, and everything that maybe wasn’t so, you know, so delicious, it’s a lesson learned.” She smiles again. “I have, yeah! I totally agree with you, it was very…” She pauses to consider. “Peppermint. Which, like, you’d think would be a good thing, but peppermint really needs to be more of a whisper, you know? Like, peppermint.” She drops her voice into a perfume-ad type whisper. “Have you tried the seasalt-caramel ones? Very good, very subtle.”

"Well you're doing a great job. The fact that you're here, asking those questions, it means you care. I know it can be a little scary at first; you're taking care of a living, breathing thing, but you've got a good one here. He's healthy and bright-eyed and I can tell you really love him." Tabby said gently, scratching Tom near his tail so his butt raised up high. Throughout her years as a vet, she'd seen all kinds of owners, good and bad. Roman had nothing to worry about. "Yeah, Greenies are fine. They come in a lot of flavors so I'm sure you'll find ones he likes. Purina has some dental chews and treats too. You don't have to buy anything too expensive and you don't want to give him too many, because they're still treats at the end of the day. Maybe start off with a very small every few days and see how he likes it. Try putting them in a puzzle box, kill two birds with one stone and keep his brain active."

Roman flushes slightly at the praise, flag of pale pink lifting in his cheeks. “I’ve never really…thought about getting a pet, before,” he admits, smiling as he watches Tom’s elevator butt lift into the air. “But there were these fliers at the library, and I just, um, went in. And then I saw him.” He smiles again as Tom Bombadill flops over, seemingly happy to have two people paying attention to him at the same time. “They…they were advertising for younger kittens, but I saw him and he, um, he wouldn’t take his eyes off me. So I couldn’t just leave him.” He listens intently as she advises him, nodding slightly to let her know that he’s listening. “Do you, um…do you recommend any other toys?” he says. “I think he likes, um, those wand toys? But I worry the feathers will come off and he’ll…he’ll eat them.”

arms tighten as eyes narrow and gwyn is more than aware she should probably give this poor, stuttering man a break. but: “yeah, i gathered that," said in a huff while she looks over both shoulders, chewing on the inside of her cheeks. when she turns back toward the librarian, he's droning on about email receipts. one hand drops to the front desk, french tipped fingernail tapping. the other splays across the back cover of the book in her arms, so he can't steal a peek. at the very least, she waits until he's done speaking. “that's nice. how much money would you need? i'm good with budgets. i could take a look, see if there's anything to move around.” brief pause. “for other things, too. not just the machine.” 

Roman just looks at her while she huffs at him, his expression similar to a teacher waiting for the class to quiet down. He doesn’t fully understand why not being able to check out her own books infuriates her so much, unless she’s checking out The Anarchist Cookbook and is desperate to keep her bomb-making . But he certainly wasn’t going to ask. He snatches a steadying breath in through his nose as she responds to what he finds to be a reasonable solution with an air of someone who can’t be bothered, which is especially galling when the problem appears to be entirely made-up. “That’s not really my…” He sighs softly. “Not really my purview. I’m not…I’m not the library director.” He pauses, considering, in part because it would frankly be a relief to have her confront someone else. “I could…um, I could go get them for you.”

LOCATION:  penny  park  (  @ecrivainlcvande  )

Roman looks up from the book he has held open between his thumb and pinky finger, blinking in mild surprise. He’d been vaguely aware of someone sitting next to him, his spatial awareness informing him of a presence to his left. “Oh, um…” He glances up at the sky, as if he needs evidence apart from the pleasant warmth on his skin and the slight breeze that stirs his hair. “I don’t…I don’t mind the rain,” he admits, with a little smile. “But I suppose that’s because I, um, I don’t really spend very much time outside. To answer your question.” He offers her a small, polite smile. “But I…I thought since it was nice out today…I might as well sit outside and get a little bit of sun.”

“they're close enough." probably. shirley's was winnie's first and only job and, to be honest, she'd rather keep the waitressing gig than step behind an espresso machine for a single second. although, she'd trade the lingering smell of fries for the coffee in a heartbeat. “but at least a crowd means good tips, right?” she doesn't bother writing down his order, simply tucks it away in her brain, right behind the last table's. “ bacon cheeseburger, fries, coke!” once the boring stuff is out of the way, she tilts her head, furrows her brows, and keeps her tone so conversational when she says, “i didn't know you drew. what're you working on?” 

Peter smiles and nods in agreement. “Oh, yeah, the tip jar on weekday mornings and weekend afternoons is definitely a different animal,” he agrees. “Those are the most crowded times for us. Monday mornings especially feel like they last five seconds because we get so busy, but that’s not so bad. It makes the rest of the day go by faster.” He smiles again as she rattles off his order, impressed by her recall, especially with all the other orders she has to remember. Not that he would ever complain if she got it wrong. He can feel his face growing warm as she changes the subject. “Oh, well, I -- it’s just a hobby,” he says. “I don’t really draw, like an artist, I just sort of…doodle, I guess.” He looks down at his napkin. “Just, um…a sketch.”

Wren tilted her head at Peter and smiled. "Were you at yoga earlier? I think I saw you there." She grinned. "My arms still may be a little sore from some of those poses." She handed him one folding chair and took the other. "It's not heavy, just awkward, you know, short people problems?" She scanned him up and down. "Well, maybe you don't."

Peter smiled back at her. “Yeah!” he said. “I hadn’t been in a while because of my schedule at work, but I got a Sunday off today.” As much as he liked his job, he certainly wasn’t going to complain about that. Although he did wonder what Sloane was doing. He laughed as she spoke, taking the folding chair. “I mean, I did once,” he said fairly, although he wasn’t sure he could really remember when he’d been her height. He smiled again. “You sure you don’t want me to grab the other one? You could just direct me where to go.”

“Three minutes late is still late,” Hazel insisted, but she was clearly fighting a smile. She snorted as her friend spoke, idly stirring her straw around in the glass of complimentary water that had already been placed on the table. “A shitty excuse, huh?” she said, smiling at her. “What shitty excuse would you have laid on me, do you think?”