bonjour

@eliott-delarue​

Slugging her bag full of miscellaneous paperwork over her shoulder, Winifred left work slightly earlier than usual. She decided to take the more scenic route near the water as she walked home. What am I, a local? Ugh, how disgusting, she thought to herself as she made her way further and further down the path. Though it was actually rather pretty today, she had to admit to herself. Her walk slowed a bit as she stumbled upon someone sitting in front of an easel closer towards the water. She squinted her eyes, trying to see if it was someone she knew from the museum, but she didn’t recognize them. What they were working on looked nice, from what she could tell so far. While she didn’t consider herself an artist, she still did create art from time to time so she knew a thing or two about the workmanship of it. 

“You have such nice brushes, I can’t find any like that around here,” she blurted out, suddenly realizing she hadn’t actually announced herself until that moment. 

It started off as a normal day on the beach, really. Eliott took his linen bag of items-- he was pretty minimalist when it came to what he brought. He never wanted to feel overwhelmed, so he only brought what he thought he might need. It may seem like the artist thing to do, but Eliott never sat by the shore to paint the ocean-- no, he just liked the feeling it gave him to sit by the ocean. He liked that the beaches were sandy but also rocky, he liked that the air was crisp but also salty. He liked the feeling that the canvas had on it with the salt mixing with oils. It’s why he was there in the first place. He looked up at the voice, startling him a little bit. He had a smaller brush in his hand as he looked over at the girl next to him. The feeling of oil paint sat on his skin as he gave a small smirk to her, outer corner only really making an appearance. 

“Thanks,” He responded, nodding a little bit and noticing her bags. It was interesting to him how she had seemed to be unsure of herself. “They’re from a small art shop I used to go to back in France. Probably the best paint brushes I’ve ever used, and no one else can get them except from that shop. I’m pretty sure they hand-craft them. I think it’s really the trick. Do you paint?”

Niko laughed a bit when the other man was fucking with him. With a Dutch mother, he felt like he was able to take a joke better than most typical Englishmen. “You’re messing with me there. Good one,” he chuckled. The other clearly knew that wasn’t what he meant about it. He simply meant that it was very English of him to apologise when something like that happened, even if it wasn’t his fault. “Bit early for chips, isn’t it? But then again… when I was your age, any time of day was good for chips. My metabolism isn’t what it used to be. Cherish it while you can and eat a lot of chips on my behalf.”

It put a smirk on Eliott’s face when the man called him out. He was just trying to be a little bit of a dick, not much though. “It would have been more funny to me if you hadn’t called me out,” Eliott bit his lip a little bit, trying to hold back the smile. He looked back at the restaurant that the man was referring to and nodded slightly. “First of all,” He started out, “You have no idea what my age is. And secondly, how do you know that this isn’t my dinner? I could have worked all night for this.” Eliott was kind of an asshole when it came to conversation, because he wanted people to feel uncomfortable; he played the reverse role so he wouldn’t be on the other end of it. “I could have slaved all day for this, and you’re telling me it’s too early? What if, in theory, it’s too late for me to be eating? Or..” He trailed off, looking back at the guy. “It could be the perfect time. Why don’t you grab some too? This may be your last day on earth, and you’ll be sitting in purgatory thinking, ‘damn, that kid was right.’”

Saenoo definitely spent too much time at the Wide Awake, but he was always focused and productive while he was there. Sometimes the baristas gave him a free refill while he was there because he was probably half of their revenue.

After he had finished preparing a presentation for the new Monmouth exhibit he wanted to propose, he reluctantly left the comfort and warmth of the cafe to take a small walk. Regardless of where he took a walk, Saenoo always liked how much water surrounded the Cove. 

He idly watched the water for a moment before pulling out his phone to take some photos of it. He tried to find a good angle while continuing to walk when he ran straight into someone.

“I wasn’t either.” He scratched his neck, “Sorry.”

Saenoo looked up at the shop they stood in front of. It was Smallfry, and although it wasn’t open yet, one could smell the nectar of the gods, fried food, through the closed doors. He took a deep breath in and sighed, “God, I haven’t had any fish and chips in forever.”

Eliott moved to look at the man who he bumped into, reaching out to steady himself but to also make sure he was okay. He knew that he was clumsy, which is why he didn’t feel that the other guy needed to apologize-- especially to him. “Don’t apologize,” He shook his head a bit. “It definitely was my fault. I ran into you just,” He motioned to the phone in the boy’s hand. “Take some pictures. Are you a photographer?” Genuinely interested, Eliott looked at the restaurant that the guy was referring to. It was the best, and Eliott loved being so close to it, even if it was probably the most unhealthy part of his diet. “I come here everyday. My studio is above it, so I literally just came down for when it opens. The trick is to be here first, it’s the freshest.”

Niko nodded as he heard the man’s French accent. Clearly not from around here. He was always surprised when he heard other accents. He didn’t realise that The Cove was such a good place for people to immigrate to. “Yes, I’m absolutely fine. No harm done. Nothing dropped or anything,” he said. “And the apology is honestly a force of habit. I’ve apologised to chairs for bumping into them,” he grinned. 

Eliott moved over a little bit to give the guy some room; he knew that sometimes French people came off as a little... touchy, as the English would call it. He felt a really big disconnect, because while there were their stereotypes, the French and the English, from what he had gathered, were actually pretty different from one another. “Ah, so,” He licked his lips a little bit to try to get his words straight. “You are, eh, saying I’m similar to a chair?” He knew exactly what the man meant, and knew he meant well, but he might as well mess with him for a minute to see if he’d squirm. It was one of Eliott’s talents to make people uncomfortable on purpose. It came from all of the practice he had meeting with higher-up’s from his dad’s company and his family gatherings that he would say things out of shock value. “You’re basically saying I have the same value as a chair.”

Niko was walking on his way to get some coffee in the morning. He didn’t have papers to grade just yet, so he figured he could wake up a little later. Then get a coffee in the late morning. He wasn’t paying attention - looking at his phone - when he collided with someone. “No, that’s my fault. I should have been paying attention. You all right?” he asked the younger man. 

Eliott’s feet moved back a bit from the collision, and he looked up at the man who he had collided with. It was obviously way too early in the morning to be interacting with people in such an intimate manner, especially when he thought he’d be back in bed eating his meal by now. He reached up to push the hair out of his eyes; it wasn’t styled, and it had pieces of dried paint smudged between some of the hairs. “Err, yes, m’fine. You?” His accent rolled off of the tongue, pushing it out to lick at the corner of his lips, a bit embarrassed at being so clumsy. “I-- uh, you didn’t drop anything, correct? I bumped into you, no need to apologize to me.” 

When he rolled over, his phone read 9:42am, the sun was shining rays through the window onto his eggshell white comforter that hugged him gently. Eliott rolled over, groaning a bit into the bed as he realized another day was upon him; however, that could be a good thing if he wanted to look on the bright side of things. He hadn’t wanted that recently, though. His self-doubt was starting to sneak in. Sitting up in the bed, he threw the comforter off, and threw on a pair of his nearest Levi’s that sat in a pile on the floor-- ah, he thought, laundry... that needs to be finished. They were covered in a few splotches of paint that he knew would never come out, but somehow, it gave them character. He found a t-shirt in his closet, pulled it over his head, knowing that a shower also needed to be in his future, but he couldn’t be damned to think about that now. Eliott grabbed his keys, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and threw on his dirtiest pair of Vans-- they were supposed to be white, but they were definitely on the verge of dark grey. Eliott walked out his front door and down the steps to the courtyard that led to a small fish and chip’s takeout restaurant that sat under his studio. “Merde,” He whispered, his accent strong in the air, knowing that they didn’t open until 10. He rested his head on the glass, wishing they would just open since they knew he was probably out here waiting. Who wants to eat fish this earlier anyways? As he went to back up, he pushed his hair out of his face, and bumped into someone who was walking behind him. “Oh,” He exclaimed, turning around, “Pardon me. I was not looking.”