Les yeux, it's all in your eyes

“Savory.” The male repeated the word and shook his head. “I suppose nothing’s wrong with savory breakfast. But, in the same sense, nothing wrong with sweet breakfast either.” Jamey teased her right back. “Damn, you need some 9 AM fun with whipped cream, my girl.” He pointed out and wiggled his brows at her, giving her a wink. Jamey watched her search for something - he assumed a card or money. Hearing her speak of coffee, Jamey played dumb and shook his head. “See, I’m just a pretty face, doll. I don’t know a thing about any types of coffee. Hell, I wasn’t even talking about coffee.” He said, smirking at the blonde haired woman.

If Eleanora had been drinking her hot, wet cappuccino, she would’ve choked on it. She laughed, unable to stop herself. “Funny,” She said wryly, composing except for a small smirk, “I’m more fun than you’d know what to do with.” She located her card holder in the back pocket of her purse and slid her debit card over the counter, “Are there any baristas here? I mean, the pretty face is nice and all, it’s just... I need something to wake me up.” She pauses, smiling and cocking her head just slightly, “Y'know?” 

“Ah, see, that’s where you and I differ.” Anni laughed, nodding at the other. “I’m not sure - oh.” she laughed again. “You weren’t being serious about the not being productive part.” she nodded. “I get what you mean about the coffee though, I do think this is the best coffee place in town. Are you a black coffee person or more of a flavored coffee person?”

Eleanora smiled, grateful for the woman’s polite response. She tended to overthink so often she found herself caught off guard when things went over smoothly, or just different than the worst case scenario she’d imagine. “Oh well that’s good to know, I’ve been on the hunt.” She motions to her cup, “Cappuccino, but I suppose I’d prefer black over a flavoring, there’s something so chemical about the flavors you find these days...” She chuckles, “I sound old as all get out, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy a... peppermint white mocha, say. Now that drink is impossible not to enjoy.”

 Dominic just looked back at her for a long moment, before he shrugged once more. “You  are free to do whatever you want.” He stated simply. He sure wasn’t in a place where he could or could not tell her what to do. “North of here?” He raised a brow at her. “Damn, I can’t even imagine what that must be like. Winters here can get pretty rough, honestly.” He said with a small shrug. He also couldn’t see any logical reason for why someone would willingly want to  spend time outside when it dropped below a certain degree. “Hm I am sure there are better ways to be inspired, but maybe that is just  me.”

She was surprised by his words. She reminded herself what she’d been told before: not to make an issue where there wasn’t one. He wasn’t being rude, just not polite. She wondered why he stopped to talk to her at all. “Joking.” She said back, eyebrows raising but her smile still present. “Yeah, not kidding about North of here, though. Canada winters are...” She grimaces, “Well, it’s the lack of sunlight that bothers me most. You can warm up from the cold but damn, seasonal depression’s a bitch.” She makes herself laugh again, trying to lighten him up. She’s almost determined to make him smile. “Well, I’m a glutton for punishment but I’m willing to hear you out. Go on.” 

With the colder breeze coming in, Eddie traded his usual t-shirt in for a long sleeve shirt still paired with his usual blue jeans and work boots. With the mission of morning coffee and some baked goodies for his pregnant wife, Eddie walked past the lady reading without much thought until she swore. His blue-green gaze shifted to the right side where she was seated. “Are you alright?” He asked with his Southern drawl, his instinct wanting to ensure the woman was okay. When she mentioned work, his eyes narrowed and he nodded a little. “Oh, uh alright. What kinda research?”

She shook her head when she realized she had answered ‘Are you alright’ with the response to ‘what are you doing’, “I - um,” She shook her head again, looking down, “Trying to get a feel for what town was like in the early 1800′s. Or more specifically, what might be the same now so that I could see it for myself.” 

“It has unfortunately gotten to the time of year where the weather is unpredictable.” Colton replied as he knew it hadn’t been windy when he left his house less than an hour ago, but now it seemed the wind was here to stay. Not that Colton minded that much, but he did prefer when the weather was nicer. Wind was better than rain, but a nice breeze was preferred to the large gusts they were currently getting.  “This seems like a pretty odd place to be doing research. Then again, I don’t know what your job is. Maybe it’s completely normal.”

Eleanora turned to face the stranger, she smiled slightly, appreciating the distraction. “Normal’s never been my M.O. but...” She looks around, gesturing, before turning back to the other, “Something about the sights and sounds just inspires me...” She chuckles, “Well, it inspires me not to read, actually. It’s pretty damn distracting out here.” 

“I guess I have never been great at telling a story through words.” Harper explained with a small shrug. Her talents lied more in telling a story through her sculptures.  The young artist liked to think that she was pretty good at that at least.  “I mean while that is true, I suspect some people’s stories are pretty boring.” She added with a small shrug as Harper couldn’t imagine hers being one that anyone would care about years from now.  “I didn’t grow up here no, but in a way I am from here. My mother is a local.” Harper explained as it was the least complicated way of saying things. 

“Oh?” Eleanora probed, “What’s your preferred method of storytelling?” She pondered all the ways one could express themselves, Eleanora could imagine the woman before her as a dancer, maybe ballet, she had the form and the face, somehow so elegant but so much turmoil beneath the surface. Like a porcelain doll come alive. She other’s words piqued her interest, “I don’t know, I suppose it depends on how far you’re willing to dig. There’s always interest somewhere.” She shrugged too, not meaning to challenge the woman, “Your mothers hometown,” she nodded, “That’s interesting.”

Jamey enjoyed seeing the smile form on the blonde’s face. At least he still had his touch with the women, right. He frowned at her answer and a small smirk replaced his goofy grin. “Seriously, ‘I don’t do dessert before noon’?” He repeated and shook his head. “Ya gonna tell me ya don’t have any fun before noon either?” He teasingly asked her. The smirk remained on his face while she reported her order to him. “I normally like my cappuccino’s a little wet personally. Hot, wet, a little white foam…” Jamey mused, leaning against the counter while speaking to her.

What’s wrong with savory breakfast?” She countered playfully. Shrugging, she continued, “Whipped cream has a time and a place and it’s not 9 a.m.” She blinked innocently, but her lips wore a flirty grin. Eleanora looked down at her purse, fingers searching for her card holder, she frowned before returning her gaze to the other’s face once more, “Shouldn’t a barista know that a wet cappuccino is just a latte?” 

      What are you working on? His eyes shifted back to the page —he must’ve tabbed over and typed out (or corrected) something between reading nonsense on Reddit and now. A neutral sort of smile briefly stole his lips and Hale reached to sip at his coffee before setting it down once more. “ My publisher wants an update on how far along I am on a planned new release. I don’t want to tell her that I’ve had it done for a few weeks now … I like to get ahead. So I’m making her sweat just a little. ” Five years prior he’d gone public in claiming the successes of the popular horror novels by Henry Dillinger. He and Henry were one in the same —a handful of stories that could make a small anthology were under his belt, and his insatiable imagination fueled more. It was nice to be busy, he often praised that luck, if not a little tiresome to have combative ideas consistently in his head. The occasional physical writer’s block didn’t help, either.

      “ It’s cliché, but sometimes I like to sit in public places and listen to people chitchat over whatever’s going on in their lives. It helps with some inspiration. Sometimes. ”

“Publisher,” She repeated, images of her own publisher swirled in her mind, causing a nervous tension to build in her stomach. She took a sip of coffee, trying not to appear as scattered as she felt. She forced herself to chuckle at his arrogance. She remembered the feat of getting her first title published, and how she’d never thought she held enough power to make her team sweat. “That’s funny,” She said dryly, sipping her coffee once more. 

She winced sarcastically, and this time her laugh was a bit more sincere, “Ah, that is a cliché. But I’m guilty as well. Any characters of particular interest?”

“I can’t say there is that much history to know, at least from what I’ve heard.” Harper replied, but then again she hadn’t looked too much into it. The only things she cared about learning about the town were more present day things. Then again, Harper wasn’t a local so maybe that changed her point of view a bit. “I am sure there are plenty of people who would talk to you though, it seems everyone who was born and raised here has some story to tell.” She added as she knew that was at least the case for some that she’d spoken to. Harper let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I can’t say there is much happening at the moment.”

Eleanora nodded as the other spoke, “You’d be surprised what kind of finite details can inspire a story,” She responded. Eleanora took in the woman before her. She had a special skill for reading those she allowed herself to, she usually invented most of their story, but found it easier thinking of those she encountered as characters rather than people. She smiled, breathing a laugh, “I’d argue anyone who was born and raised anywhere has a story to tell. What about you? Are you local around here?” 

Mic had just left the bakery with what would be his lunch later in the afternoon. It wasn’t too often he made the trip to the bakery, because it wasn’t like the food they sold here which he usually purchased, wasn’t something he wouldn’t be able to make at home. But this morning he had been in a rush, and the bakery was on the way to the fire station. He had focused on a text  on his phone when he had heard the rattling of the pages from a book right next to  him. “This isn’t  exactly  the temperature or weather to be outside in.” He said, rolling his eyes slightly then they didn’t appear to pick up on what  he had said. “What do you do for work that requires you to do it  outside in the freezing cold?”

Eleanora was a bit taken aback by the comment, the other’s air of protectiveness and confidence radiated from him, she had to admit it made her think twice about her choice. She straightened her spine and smiled her trademark, deep-dimpled grin, “Can’t a girl simply enjoy complaining anymore?” She made herself chuckle lightly, “Not that I was, anyway, I’m from north of here, the cold does something to... energize me. It’s not a requirement, more of an... inspiration.” 

WHERE: Lighthouse Cafe, Downtown Bridgeport WHO: OPEN, @bridgeporthqstarters​

With the black apron supporting the Lighthouse Cafe’s logo over his usual attire of faded straight legged jeans and black t-shirt, Jamey tossed a white towel over his shoulder while giving the person in line a grin that screamed goofy and charming in one. “Hello, hello. Have you come in search of pumpkin spice like everyone else?” He asked in a teasing tone. “Or maybe you’re gonna be my odd duck today. Gonna ask for something crazy. I’ll have you know I can make a delicious dark chocolate iced shaken espresso. May not be on the menu yet… But I’m convincing my boss.” Jamey over explained and flashed that grin once more. “So, what will it be?”

Eleanora's morning was a slow one. Well, morning was a bit of a stretch. Her watch read 11:04 when she left her apartment and walked the 2 blocks to the only cup of coffee in town she had yet to try. She’d woken up 10 minutes earlier and needed coffee first thing. She hadn’t been one to go out for coffee in Clermont, usually had whatever her mother had made. Well, now she found herself 32 and unable to make a pot without burning the grounds to the glass. No cup had tasted like home, but she was holding out hope for the Lighthouse cafe, maybe it’d surprise her. 

She’d only been in line for a few moments when she heard a pleasant voice, and looked up to find an even more pleasant face. Her face turned quizzical, though she maintained a smile, “I can’t do dessert before noon.” Her smile turned to a smirk, “Cappuccino. Dry. And.. Hot.. Does that need to be said?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t -” though nearly as quickly as she spoke, Anni stopped herself. She didn’t want to seem rude by dismissing the other; it was clear she’d heard something that Anni hadn’t said, and that was okay. “I don’t want to interrupt you.” Anni smiled, wondering how someone could do any sort of work in a cafe like this one with as active as it seemed to be today. “I’m not quite one to ask questions, but how do you concentrate?” she slightly smiled, watching as the other had been intently engaged in whatever it was she was working on. “I can barely hold a conversation with the sounds and aromas in here, how do you do it?”

Eleanora closed her book easily, like she’d been waiting for the distraction the stranger provided in such a timely manner. She chuckled lightly, “The trick is you have to care very little about being productive. You almost have to want to not be productive.” She chuckles again, shaking her head. The regret of her social anxiety creeps in almost immediately, reminding her that was a colossally stupid and potentially quizzical thing to say. She swallows, then continues, “Only joking, it’s the only place with decent coffee I’ve been able to find since moving in.”  

Olivia was seated outside of the bakery, enjoying her usual chocolate chip muffin and a coffee. She had just dropped her boys off at school and decided to stop and treat herself. She was heavily pregnant and due to have her twins any day at this point, so she was trying to take it easy and enjoy her time before two newborns came into the mix. Liv had been glancing at the woman across from her, head tilted. “Oh,” she commented. “Research about what? Am I allowed to ask that?”

Eleanora softened, happy for a distraction. The truth was, her research was slow moving. It frightened her to think she might see her father’s name on some work report, to confirm that he might still walk these streets. She decided there was no harm in a white lie, “Just a bit of town history,” Eleanora said, smiling. She chuckled lightly, raising an eyebrow “That depends, do you think I’ll uncover any sort of sordid past?” 

      There was something oddly comforting about a bustling café. It was too easy to sink into the crowd - to remain solitary despite the goings on all around. Hale liked to listen to the conversations —to glean little bits of real life from the world around him, to eventually pour them into his stories. His wife had praised him on the realism of the conversations in his books, something that Hale had taken certain pride in, and places like these were rife with ideas. Eavesdropping, to a degree, he supposed. But he sat at his little table, laptop open to some random tabbed page and warm cup of coffee in hand, scarf wrapped and tucked warmly, and listened. It was the cursing that turned his attention sideways, and the woman that made her own quiet excuse as if she’d disturbed anyway. “ You’re fine. ” She could be doing hand-stands and he wouldn’t have noticed, “ No bother at all. ”

"Oh,” Eleanora said apologetically, a sorry smile gracing her features. She seemed to have disturbed him from deep thought, as he seemed unbothered by her utterance, she wondered if he was quick to return to it. Her gaze briefly fell  to her page, but she caught herself glancing back up over his shoulder. A pretty fully written page stared back at her from his screen, and she felt envy. Her latest book was funded but underplanned, a thought intruded telling her that she wasn’t even here to write a book, just satiate her morbid curiosity about her father. She edged it out, “What are you working on?” She asked the stranger boldly, needing a distraction stronger than historical fiction.  

Where: Grocery store  Who: Open : @bridgeporthqstarters·

“You know, I love Halloween, but I love the day after Halloween better” he said holding up a bag of candy. “All the half of candy you could possibly want.” He said laughing as he put two bags in his cart, rummaging through the bin of candy to see if there was anything else. “I also buy all my Halloween decorations now, so I don’t have to do it next year and pay hundred dollars for something I can get for fifty” he said spotting the half of decorations and costumes in the corner. “Also the coffee places all come out with their holiday drinks, and I feel as though we’ve hit the jackpot.” He said laughing. 

Eleanora chuckled politely as the taller man went on... and on. She was here for exactly the same reason but she briefly glanced down at her basket, an avocado and a head of broccoli stared back at her. He didn’t have to know her evening’s plans consisted devouring one of the bags of candy he was partially blocking. "Right,” she smiled, “That’s smart thinking.” Her grin deepened, bearing her dimples, was she flirting with a perfect stranger? Maybe. “Are you a pumpkin spice kinda guy or a hot apple cider?” She laughed a bit awkwardly, “Not hot like that, I- I didn't mean it like that.”