paris starters.

Where: Outside the Quai Branly Museum

When: The early afternoon

Hercule had decided that today he would go to a museum he didn’t visit very often and educate himself on things he knew little about. Unfortunately, he failed to check whether the museum was open, despite knowing about the snowstorm. So, here he stood, staring at a sign on the entrance to the establishment stating that the establishment was closed due to inclement weather. With a sigh, he turns around and begins the trek home, feeling slightly disgruntled from the waste of time.

In a second, his foot is place on ice that he didn’t see and he finds himself losing his balance. Thankfully, he quickly regains his footing and manages to maneuver himself off the ice and onto safe ground clear of ice. He glances at the person next to him, who happened to see his mishap.  “Pute.” He laughs, finding humor in his own mishap. “C’est glissant ici, fais attention. Je ne veux pas que tu tombes comme j'ai failli le faire./ It’s icy here, be careful. I don’t want you to fall like I almost did.”

Something was off once she came back from her lunch break, Elise felt it the second she stepped into her office and stared blankly at her desk like she was missing something. She’s walked around the museum for almost an hour now, gaze vacant as she tries to remember what it is she’s looking for. Her mind is probably playing tricks on her again, telling her she’s lost something when the only thing lost is her sense of self, but she’s determined to find whatever it is she’s looking for when she finds herself in one of the Van Gogh rooms — not without company. “That one’s beautiful,” she muses, almost not even realizing she’s said anything aloud. But it’s one of her favorite pieces and Elise can’t help herself when it comes to art. She casts her gaze upon the Van Gogh once more and then over to the other person admiring the piece, the slightest smile appearing on her lips. “If you like the artist, we have a few more in the next room over. He’s brilliant.”

Sanchit wasn’t new to snow storms. Though they had seen videos of them in other countries, West-Europe was pretty mild in comparison. It was mostly a lot of wet snow and very very icy roads. To a point where trains would stop driving - which they already did regularly - or people were told not to drive their cars around. Paris was different, people took it way more seriously. While Sanchit, as smart as they were being, was biking. They had to slow down for a car and almost fell on their butt. Despite it, they were laughing, pulling their bike from the ground and sliding to the sidewalk. “That was a good safe right?” 

Nephi pulled his bomber jacket closer to his body using both hands, shivering a little at the intense wind. There had been a snow storm a few years back, or perhaps more than a few, he remembered being young, and Paris being beautiful. Now the city was empty, people hiding out in their houses and emergency services having their hands full. He reached out when someone close to him almost fell on the icy streets. “Ay, facile là-bas,” he said with a smile, keeping them from the floor. 

Time: 9:45PM 

@paristarters​

Bloodied, bruised and utterly spent, all Jean wanted was a drink. His ribs twinged every time he moved and his head spun with each new step to the bar but still he persisted. He wondered, in his state of bloodied pulp, if they’d sell to him but it was a risk he was willing to take. Finally, he made it to the bar and gingerly took a seat and ordered his favorite. “Old Fashioned, please.” 

Where: Matamata Coffee Bar

Status: Open @paristarters​

Today was just one of those mornings where Hercule didn’t seem to be feeling it. He practically had to drag himself out of bed, knowing that if he didn’t he’d only have consequences to face. In order to try and combat his sleepiness, he went to one of the local coffee bars and got a latte.

Unfortunately, still dazed from his lack of sleep the night before, he managed to grab a drink that wasn’t his. He failed to listen as the barista called out the name of the person it was for and took a sip, quickly realizing that he had just drank an americano, not the latte he had ordered. “Merde!/ Shit!” He swore, turning to the person who came up to the pickup window, likely the person this drink actually belonged to. “Désolé, je pensais que c'était le mien. Puis-je vous en acheter un autre?/ Sorry, I thought it was mine. Can I buy you another one?”

He’s sat outside, accompanied only by that of a black coffee, tucked somewhere between the fifth and sixth chapter. There’s a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips - unlit, his hands yet to retrieve the stainless steel lighter from his front pocket. When he brings it upwards, his thumb clicks repetitively; his features contorting with annoyance when the flame never comes.             “Excuse me,” he addresses to a nearby individual, returning the faulty item to his pockets. His attention is elsewhere for the most part. The features of the opposing individual yet to resonate. “You wouldn’t happen to have a lighter, would you?”

“Maybe we can do this again sometime?” Margo blinked at him for a moment before she remembered to respond, pushing a smile on to her face. Be nice, Margo, be nice. “Maybe, that’s definitely an idea.” She shot back to the man as he put his jacket on, not making a single effort to follow him. With an awkward wave, he was off, and all niceties and gestures of politeness melted off her expression. She turned to the bartender, tapping her fingers impatiently. “S'il vous plaît! J'ai besoin d'un verre de Pinot Grigio aussi vite que possible. {Please! I need a glass of Pinot Grigio as fast as you can pour.]” She leaned forward on the bar with a heavy sight, only briefly turning her gaze to the person sitting beside her. “Never let someone set you up on a blind date. It’s setting yourself up for failure.”

When: the 14th, evening

Who: open to all / @paristarters​

Sitting at her booth at Le Comptoir, Georgie lost count of how many cocktails she was in right now, only that she was quite enjoying the idea of two for one and she was left with not a single worry in her mind. Going to bars and hang outs alone wasn’t something she was such a stranger for. Although she craved the attention and being surrounded by people, she quite enjoyed the independency she had and took advantage of it as much as she could. By being a famous figure, she knew nothing would happen to her because she just happened to be friends with the barman. A complete win on her part.

“You know, for the first time I don’t see this day being as bad as it used to be. At least we get pretty interesting deals, like this one. Two cocktails for the price of one. And they aren’t all that bad either! So I definitely consider this particular day a win on my books now.” She said to the person sitting by her side

@paristarters​

Valentine’s Day. A day dedicated to love and infatuation. As a child, it had been one of Ronav’s favorite holidays– he and his brother would wake up to candy from his parents and plans to spend the day together. His aunt and uncle attempted to fill that void by doing similar activities, but it just wasn’t the same. It was the thought that counted though, wasn’t it?

Now, decked out in a stereotypical pink shirt and heart shaped sunglasses, Ronav stood behind the Matamata booth facing bags of coffee beans. He didn’t mind people picking them up and reading the flavor notes, but sometimes it would be nice if they put them back in the same spot. But could he really complain? It kept him busy. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he said as he felt a body head toward the booth. Turning around with a new sleeve of holiday-themed cups, Ronav was glad he had his shades on. “Eh, I was unaware you were a coffee fan– unless you’re just here for me,” he laughed lightly, “is there anything I can get you? It’s all made with love.”

In truth, he could have worn his usual attire. Perhaps, he could have chosen chinos and a nicer button up, he could have even gotten away with jeans and a nicer shirt, but no. It was a celebration for love and Saint Valentine, afterall. When he’d proposed the idea, Julieta’s eyeroll was something formidable, one he was sure could have caused an earthquake to tilt Paris off of its axis, But it was too good to pass up on and sure they weren’t near Hallow’s Eve, but what could he say? When he could, he’d play the part and swimmingly. Donned in his Cupid attire, Luca could feel the felt of the red wings laying across his back as he chose bushels of flowers for minute gifts. Though he wondered if it was too gimmicky, it was certainly drawing attention and any attention he could draw for the business was good in theory. With a brilliant smile, he thanked patrons as they supported the table, and just as he heard another person approaching, he carefully played around with his bow and arrow (also made from plastic and felt ) before he said, “Anyone I should strike on for you today?” 

Micayla couldn’t believe she had allowed Lena to drag her to the Valentine’s Festival. Not only was it the kind of atmosphere the brunette usually detested with all of the heart shaped decorations and people wandering around reading romance into every single interaction, but she also had very limited free time this weekend with how big the Anti-Valentine’s party at Le Rouge was becoming. She needed as much rest as she could get. Instead, she was now left perusing the stands. She had just spotted Étoile’s bookstand, a relieved sigh escaping her lips as she began heading in that direction, when a very overexcited puppy dragged it’s owner by the leash right in front of where Micayla was walking. As she attempted to not get caught up in the leash, she stumbled backwards a few steps, right into someone else. As she moved to right herself, she mumbled under her breath, “Pourquoi suis-je de nouveau ici? Why am i here again?”

location: outside lacroix, early afternoon-ish. 

“Merci ––” she thanks one more time, one hand already opening the door, the other securing the Boston Terrier puppy in her arm. The moment unfolds in slow motion before  the dark brunette has the chance to do anything. As soon as the door was complete open, the dog jumped from her arms down onto the sidewalk –– great, she only has one hour before she needs to get back to work –– “Jacques, non,” Sophia calls out, rushing after the black and white puppy. “S'excuser pour lui..” The excuse ready at the tip of her tongue as she approaches the other. “We just got you out of your bath, sir.” Her accent shifting, clearly move evident at the last word as she kneels to secure the runner at his collar.

Multitasking and unbothered, Lida was currently walking Duke with her eyes glued to her phone, answering emails, and messages galore. Funny enough, the business woman considered this as a BREAK, but mostly because she didn’t have to interact with her parents, associates or even employees for the time being. As she kept walking, she noticed that Duke wasn’t budging when she tugged on the leash. This caused her to stop in her tracks, yet not break her gaze from her device as she was reading in on a proposal. Absentmindedly, Lida spoke out and said, “Duke, allons-y.” However, when she got no response, let alone movement she looked up and noticed he was preoccupied with someone else. “Oh.” Locking her phone, she walked over and broke out into a smile, mostly at how adorable her doberman looked. “Did you want to pet him? He doesn’t bite, despite his intimidating demeanour. Hopefully he wasn’t causing any trouble though?”

Where: Desiree

It was getting to the end of Emmett’s shift at Desiree and to be honest, he was worn out. It had been a busy day, seemed like everyone either wanted flowers or to order a coffee: either way, he felt like he’d been running around all day. His mental fatigue was beginning to affect his lipreading just slightly, he was starting to have a little bit of a hard time understanding what people were saying. But, the only thing this had really done so far was make Emmett clarify what people wanted.

He noticed the door open as he was making an arrangement for an order later today, trying to make sure it was ready for when the customer came in. He sees someone at the front counter, but his hands are a little full. “I’ll be with you in just a second!” He calls, quickly trying to finish the flowers he was arranging. After a few seconds, he decides to leave it for later, walking briskly to the counter. He notices all too late that he was barely paying attention to what the person was saying, having to think on his feet now. “I’m sorry, did you say you wanted some poppies or a coffee?”