Juniper Wilde

+JUNIPER WILDE

Name: Juniper “June” Wilde

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: 25 

Date of Birth: September 9th, 1997

Area of Residence: Downtown 

Housing: Ironworks 

Occupation: Graduate Student at Cornell University, studying in Sociology

Time in Town: Six Years 

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual 

Face Claim: Mena Massoud 

“Depends on what you consider a classic.” It was a harmless jab, one that was followed up with a devilish smirk. She wasn’t new to suggestions, but if he wanted to play a game, she’d jump right in without missing a beat. “Bold of you to assume the only thing I know is sugary,” she countered, a brow arched as she considering her options. “Do you prefer to keep it bottled or are you okay with something a little stronger?”

-

The corners of his lips twitch. June leans back from the bar counter. “Stronger,” he answers, his eyes trailing her as he watches her move. His eyes drift down when she slides the drink across the sticky counter. It leaves a wet ring when he lifts it up. He meets her gaze as he lifts it to his nose. “Moment of truth?” He lifts it to his lips. Stronger is an understatement. It hits him the moment it touches his lips, but the taste is masked well enough that he was sure, in another life, this would be dangerous for him. “That’s not bad,” he gives in. “Eight out of ten,” he decides. 

“A little trouble should stop you,” Mickey volleyed back, but he couldn’t help the curve of his mouth in response to Juniper’s coy actions. They both knew that he was far too professional to indulge, but they also both knew that no answer was just as good as admitting that such things existed. He closed the lid of his laptop, stretching a little before getting up as well. If he ‘forgot’ his computer, it was as good of a reason as any to not answer any late night emails— he gladly followed behind June. “Cantina, and no, Len hardly knows who you are.” Mick’s grin tugged up, “She called you a little nothing, or something like that.”

-

His hand press to his chest. “Nothing?” He makes some sound that resembles a dog being kicked. “You give a girl your heart and this is all you get for it,” he says, his gaze a distance away. All thoughts of academics, the impending announcement the pair were allegedly responsible for, is entirely forgotten, his thoughts consumed by the brunette who brushed him off so easily. “I thought we had something special. It’s not just for anyone I’d ruin your desk like that, you know,” he says, glancing back at Mickey. If he’s uncomfortable, June fails to notice, too consumed by his own grief. The pair slip into the hallway. “I mean, it’s sacred.”

Len stretched, long limbs sun seeking. She was disheveled and half-asleep when she entered the kitchen, with makeup still smudged around her pale face and dark hair ruffled. “Are you actually cooking fish this early?” Len replied in way of answering, freckled nose wrinkled in protest as she padded into the room fully with bare feet, Sardine languishing over to wind between her legs. The cat— if it could be called that, was a wicked thing with eyes like lanterns in the night. She loved it selfishly because it seemed to love her while simultaneously hating everyone else. Her nose wrinkled as the lasting dregs of a hangover clung to her peripheries. “Coffee?” Medicine, really. It was bound to be the balm that erased a multitude of late night, early morning sins. She perched on a rickety barstool that Silas had sworn he would get to fixing, but the laundry list of things falling apart in the home was longer than the list of things not. Watching with a grin as the half-feral creature tore at the cooked fish with white fangs, she spoke with a hoarse, morning voice, “You didn’t have to wait for me to wake up before leaving you know. A little love note on the beside table would’ve been fine, I’m sure Mickey is screaming and crying because you’re not at the college yet.” 

-

He doesn’t dare pet it. He’s tempted. For a brief moment, his hand hovers above its mane, but its movement stills the moment he draws near. Juniper steadies instead, abandoning the feline to its meal as he draws two mugs near instead. “Already started,” he admits, and while his head is relatively clear, it’d be a lie to say it was his first cup. He approaches her with his offering in hand. He hands her the coffee before he speaks. “Maybe I wanted to see your beautiful face one more time,” he says, his hand falling and a sigh growing from his lips. “Before you tell people you don’t know who I am again,” he says, and looks almost disheartened. “That really does a number on my feelings, you know,” he claims as he lifts his second cup to his lips. It’s bitter. Too bitter. He raids through her pantry. “Do you own sugar?”

“I said don’t get attached,” Bediah said, the smirk bitten down hard into his cheek that all Juniper received was a thin line. “I expected you to be better with strays.”

He paid for his debts in full, nothing less and nothing more. He knew better than to overextend himself because the chances of anyone ever matching it were unlikely, and in turn, hard to recover from. There were, of course, instances where Bediah had no intentions of owing anyone and he knew better than to think Juniper was completely ignorant of it. In his pocket, he didn’t hide the small crinkle that announced every few motions. Though, Bediah often convinced himself that this was still form of a bargain between them where they both kicked shins in sly remarks.

-

Juniper falls into a heap onto the breakfast stool, his arms spread apart on the kitchen counter and his chin resting on top of them. From an angle, he somewhat resembled a dog with his ears parted down, a whimper on his lips as it forms into a pout. “That’s just the way things are, aren’t they? Everyone always leaves.” There’s a deep sigh that escapes from the base of his throat, and he repeats it a second time when Bediah gives him no reprieve. “Toss me a drink at least.”

“ then i suppose she wasn’t the one, ”   she delicately replied with a mindless shrug that implied her inclination towards believing in certain kinds of signs. superstition never found root in her, but she liked to theorize the existence of a fate known for leaving hints here and there for you to find, more from a place of need than anything; there came times in which she had to force the mindset upon her. an eyebrow lifted at his proposal, gaze shifting from his hand to his eyes as she meticulously tried to grasp his intentions, wondering its nature,   “ only if true to one’s heart, ”   came another shrug,   “ but i never turn down something new, ”   and so she willingly took his hand, using it to steady herself on the horse’s back.

- 

He grins. This was as it was meant to be: a perfect girl on a perfect day, horseback riding into the sunset. He helps her on, letting her ride in front of him. Her feet dangle where his are mounted, but he loosens his hold of the reigns, guiding her hand around them. “Don’t worry, she is definitely pure of heart” he promises. “Like this,” he guides her, showing her how to get them started. The horse takes off with a slow trot. From this close, he can smell the paint on her. He isn’t shy to share it either. “You smell like paint,” he says with a small laugh. He doesn’t seem to mind it. “Are you an artist?”

Naia, 

“You’ll have to join the waitlist if you plan on getting anyway. Sorry, but it’s growing daily.” If there was one thing she’d never lacked, it was the confidence behind a pretty smile. Granted, it wasn’t unlike him to throw compliments in every direction he could, but innocent flirting never hurt anyone. “Is that so?” Amusement sparked and curiosity piqued, the brunette shuffled around the area of the bar, mindful to keep herself busy while he rattled off whatever smooth words came to mind. “For starters, you could pick something better to drink,” she offered in a teasing tone of her own. “If you’re ever feeling adventurous, I’m sure I could mix up something you’d like.”

-

Juniper looks down at the bottle in his hand. In truth, he hadn’t paid much mind to what he was drinking until then. Even when he ordered it, it was mindless - the first drink that caught his eye. “Nothing wrong with the classics,” he says, but leans into the bar. “Alright, surprise me then. But if it’s just a sugary mess, I’ll never let you live it down,” he warns.

“An ideal match for an herbal remedy, that’s for sure.” She looked over at her new companion through her lashes, offering a smile and shaking her head. “Between you and me, I think I’d count it as a red flag if you were very, very adept at Egyptian funerary arts. Somewhere between the lines about separating organs into containers I got a little bit spooked, so,” Sage turned a little in her seat, facing June a little bit better. “You’re a welcome distraction.” He was nice and so far, his confidence had sparked not one but two bouts of laughter from her. “What’re you studying?” She halted. “That’s boring actually and too on task, I can do better. If you could be anywhere, any time in the world, where would you be?”

-

His smile widens as she corrects herself. June takes a deep breath as he pictures himself. “Easy,” he decides. “Paris,” he says, turning his gaze towards her. “But not alone. I’ve already been to Paris alone and it isn’t what it’s meant to be. I want to be in love in Paris. I hear the stars shine brighter there when you aren’t alone,” he says, his voice falling with their closeness. He pauses as his vision strays to watch the librarian pass. He waits until she passes before he asks his question. “If I asked you to come with me, would you do it?”

SEYDA LISTENED QUIETLY WHILE she remembered every crime show she’d ever seen. How did people get caught again? Evidence. There was no way to dispose of him but it was sure as hell fun to think of it. His mention of being a gambler made her laugh. Only because of the saying her step-father had: the better the gambler, the worse the man. It was stupid then, now she understood. “Amazon is far superior. Actually, please switch just so I can have the joy of watching you grovel when your internet is out.” The egging drives her crazy. It’s how her sister used to push her. Just when she’s convinced that she can ignore him, Seyda pulls out a box and feels it all crumble at her feet but it doesn’t matter because the box is in the air and aimed at him, except it looks like she’s about to miss…. — and he’d definitely getting a voodoo doll made after him. 

-

Juniper grin turns wider. “Should I start recording too? Warn the rest of your customers about better opportunities to come,” he asks, the opened snack crumbling in his hand as he reaches into his pocket. He takes his eyes off of her for a moment, the exact moment she decides to pull the box. June looks up too late, missing how it crumbles, but catching how it falls. The box aims at his head, but slides just past him. He howls with laughter as the mess spills onto the floor. “Clean up in aisle four,” he shouts behind him, and while the ruckus has turned some heads, no one appears. He tosses the gold fish wrapper into his cart. “Are you going to bite me if I help you now,” he offers, glancing down at the mess. He speaks up again before she can answer. “Just a reminder. I was trying to teach you a very valuable lesson. You really should be thanking me.”

The simplest trick in the book for good tips was a smile and flirty attitude, both of which had always come natural to the brunette. She could work a room as needed, making her time behind the bar all too enjoyable and financially worth it. “Another coming up,” she announced cheerfully, plucking up a bottle and popping it’s top with the utmost ease and grace before she was sliding it towards him with a roll of her light hues. “Didn’t think you’d learned my schedule yet. It’s pretty consistent, except for when they need the extra hands.” Which, she had all too eagerly volunteered for. It wasn’t like she needed the extra time anyway. “How’d you know? Am I making it too obvious?”

-

“Consider me an admirer,” he says, if only because a regular sounded way too depressing. “I’d be blind to miss a face like yours,” he says, his eyes locked on her as he accepts the drink. A small laugh forms on his lips, foreign in that moment, but not unwelcome. “Most girls would’ve accused me of stalking,” he points out, tilting his drink back. He takes a sip before he speaks. “It’s been a while since I’ve accused I could say the same. I kind of like it. A change of pace,” he decides, leaning into the bar. “Tell me more,” he jokes, putting on his most playful smile. 

A chill runs down his spine. He’s being stalked. Even as he rises from the breakfast nook, he could feel its eyes on him. He’s caught a glimpse of it once: haughty eyes that narrowed down at the stranger in its home, a wild coat like a large rodent with pointed ears. He’s made the mistake of asking about it once too. The feline jumped at its name, and while Juniper could never describe it as tamed or docile, it seemed to respect Len in a way. In the same way, he was sure it hated him. He’s aimed to change that now, as morning brightens the Covello home. Food had always been his favorite form of bribery, and despite his unorthodox upbringing, his mother had made sure he wasn’t a fool in the kitchen. He’s busy tossing the fish from the stove to its dish that he misses when her door opens. “Morning,” he calls as he spots her. Len is as radiant in the light as she is as cunning in the dark. “Did I wake you,” he asks, looking down at the food. “For your cat,” he explains. “I borrowed some things.” 

“WHAT?” Her eyes moved from the tilting pile of boxes towards him when he denied her his help. The thing with Seyda was that she was often sweet, sometimes even soft spoken, but work pulled a different monster out of her. It was the old ladies who came with files of coupons, the brats who touched everything, the old men who didn’t understand how to use the machines, and the asshole customers who tested her limits. “You must have some sort of death wish. Karma is a real thing and I know how to make a voodoo doll.” Not quite but he didn’t have to know. “Hey!” A hand quickly released hold of the pyramid to swat at him, knowing a lone bead of sweat was rolling down the side of her face. “You’ll also be banned. I’m the manager. Just back away because I will only let this whole thing go to throw one at your head and I’ve got a good aim.” 

-

June grins, but moves his hand back. “I’m a gambling man,” he says. “I’ll take my chances,” he goes on, circling the tower now like a lion stalking its prey. He pauses just far enough, fingers below his chin as he examines it as if it were an art piece. “This isn’t very good customer service from the manager. Have you considered that you’re driving your customers away?” June looks up at Seyda now. “Convince me. Why should I shop here instead of ordering everything off Amazon again,” he asks, but can’t seem to hide his amusement as it shows plain on his face. “Do it,” he eggs on. “I dare you,” he adds, calling her bluff.