too close to the sun

Maybe she should be a little nicer to him since he was a customer but it would be a lie to say that some of the people that came into the diner were a little full of herself. While Jude hadn’t been that way part of her was almost waiting for the day he came in and decided he could act like the people serving him were below him. But with how he was acting part of her wondered if he was just some side character. Maybe she was judging him a little harshly as well but in her mind it was pretty fair. “Okay. On the side it is.” The blonde nodded. Turning her back to him she spoke through the window with the bright smile she usually wore before grabbing a mug and the pot of coffee as she moved back towards Jude.

What surprised her was him apologizing. “I’m sure they are but it doesn’t look good when you come into a town and act like we were put here just to be your set.” Filling the mug she put it down in front of him before sliding a container of creamer across the counter as well as the sugar.  “Really you should try something other than waffles too. We do make good food here.” 

Hell she’d been coming there since she was little so she knew a lot about the food that was offered. Putting the pot back she gave him a confused look. “So you’re the lead in this? That’s surprising.” As soon as she said it Cassie realized just how rude that sounded. “Shit I didn’t mean it like- I’m sure you’re great I just meant you aren’t as rude as one of the guys that’s been coming in here.”

.

If everyone on set had the sweet tooth Jude did, the diner would've been the first on the list to provide food, he thinks. Believes, even. But it's not his place to make decisions; it's barely his place to act. And as he murmurs a soft, "Thank you," and starts off his coffee by putting in a sizeable amount of sugar in it, perhaps he knows why he'd never be in charge of food. (When he takes the first sip of his coffee, he knows he wouldn't change his position.)

"It's just how it is in Hollywood," he shrugs his shoulders as if it'll make a difference. He's not big on proper explanations, words fail him on most days unless he has a prepared script to learn. "I think. I dunno, actually." Jude opens his arms in a gesture that clearly says 'I have no idea' and shakes his head. "It's all pretty new." Small roles aside where he barely has any lines and merely a day or two of work. "I'll for sure try as much as possible, but waffles are a must in a new place the first few times."

Her honest statement doesn't surprise Jude in the least — his face is a new one in the business and he doesn't fit the profile of a lead. Being new is an advantage, or so his agent says, but she reminds him that once this movie is out, it'll be a change of tempo. Jude's not looking forward to it, but he's getting ready. "No worries, I don't take that personally." He's heard worse; from co-stars, too. "I don't really do rude, so I'm, uh, really glad you don't think that. This is actually my first, like, proper role."

the lunch rush has camilla bustling from table to table without pause, and it’s all she can do not to glance down at her watch to check how long until her next break, or better yet when there’s a lull that she can take advantage of by slipping into the kitchen and playing sous-chef. 

the energy around town has felt different ever since hollywood swooped in and decided an on-location shoot would really capture the ‘ idyllic ’ vibes of small town life. she can’t imagine why anyone would romanticize a place that she dreams every night of leaving.

her attention is caught by an unfamiliar face, someone shiny & new that she can just tell from looking that he must work on whatever production has settled in. unlike some of the rest of the locals who are disgruntled by the disruption in their peaceful life, camilla is mostly intrigued by the outsiders and wants a lens into what life can actually be like outside of the city limits.

she swoops a can of whipped cream from a vacated table and brings it over to her patron. “well, you just found the best waffles in town, so you came to the right place. you have to try the biscuits and gravy if you really want to see what we’re known for. aside from the great service obviously.”

.

Used to a big city or not, it's easy to get lost in the atmosphere of this place; Jude can see why it's the chosen spot to film. His co-stars are less than thrilled about it, but he takes one look at the sky at night and wonders how they're not charmed by the very celestial bodies they're called.

The part of him not used to Hollywood (except for... well, most of him) craves eating out at places where food is plentiful and he can order most anything and feel good about himself. Coming to a town like this has given him the opportunity to actually treat himself without feeling bad about it, the mere mention of biscuits and gravy having him make a mental note of it for the next time. "I'll remember that for next time," he nods, grateful for the information.

"Hey," he calls, an afterthought not even closely related to the food mentioned; but he gets a bout of courage to pose a question and takes advantage of it. "Is there some place around here at night that's not a bar? Like, y'know, maybe an arcade or something... fun. Or at least somewhere they serve actually good beer." Google has found him no answer because whenever he types anything, no ideal location pops up, hidden by the few age-appropriate options.

It was true that sometimes Cassie was sick of how small her town felt. There was rarely anything to do but the one time she’d tried to go to a big city for school the blonde had come back with her tail tucked between her legs ready to stay there forever. Maybe it was because she wasn’t used to being around so many people she didn’t know and without the umbrella of her older siblings. So now that she was back it just felt right to fall back into how things always were. She was working at the diner when she wasn’t teaching dance classes and sometimes popped over to her sisters bakery to help out. That was just how things tended to be.

So when a film crew came to town things probably didn’t go as smoothly as the crew thought it would. It also didn’t help that they seemed to look at the small town like it was below them or at least some of them did. The blonde on the other hand had gotten used to seeing one of the actors in the diner pretty regularly. So she didn’t bother writing down his order when he asked for coffee and waffles before he was even seated. “Sure.” The blonde nodded and had almost turned away from Jude but stopped when he started to speak again.

“Yeah. Do you want it on top of on the side?” Because the last thing she needed was some picky guy deciding she did it wrong once the food was already in front of him. “Of course it is. They didn’t want to get food from anyone in town. Shockingly that limits their options.” Maybe if they’d tried a little harder to get along with people in down it would work better but they didn’t.

Jude scrunches his nose in thought, a quirk from childhood many have been reminding him to stop on camera. "On the side," he decides, firm nod of his head following. He's been on an exercise regime to keep in shape, and the movie itself draws most of the energy out; some more whipped cream won't hurt.

If he doesn't mention it to anyone.

It's strange to feel bad about others' decisions, but as the girl in front of him mentions the production's decision to bring food in from elsewhere, it's all Jude can do. "Sorry," he says, shoulders slumping slightly. He's well-aware it's not his fault, but the word is his first thought and word, his filter lacking the setting for mindless apologies as usual. "They're probably used to options in big cities, I dunno."

He's not sure why he's even trying to find excuses for someone else's choices; he writes it off as habit and readjusts. "I actually have no idea, it's all pretty specific. I'm sure they don't even want their lead eating here, anyway, but what they don't know can't hurt my stomach, so... y'know."

There's a thrill about a new girl showing up to a frat party, even in Jerry's final year. He spots her as soon as she walks in, bored out of his mind through the haze that alcohol's created. The music's all the repetitive, modern songs he can drum to in his sleep; a little bit of a tune change can do no harm.

His mind already made up despite his friends' warnings it'll go nowhere, Jerry pours two shots of tequila and heads towards the girl with one purpose: fun. Before he even presents the shot to her, her words make him strain to hear the voice drowned out by bass-heavy speakers. "Good's all relative," he shrugs, extending one hand to offer her a drink. "It's all in the mind of the one who told you." There's many who could've said that, he doesn't even try to guess. He's been done with believing all the broken hearts after one night of excitement for a while.

"Anyone with half a reasonable head on their shoulders can tell you exactly what I can be good for. And out of everyone here?" He makes a show of slowly looking around for someone to fit the criteria he's searching. "They'd be crazy to tell you I'm not the best for a good time."

Jude often reminds himself as he waits in between filming different scenes that no small town can compare to Los Angeles. He's not one for the glamour of it all, but the last five years of chasing a silly dream to be an actor have made his detest into an understanding. Having to go from that to a place where there is only one place with decent coffee is a challenge.

Even the townspeople know there is no place for a film cast and crew to be there, he can feel it. Every time he steps into the diner that gives off the rustic vibe without even trying, he can feel eyes on him; an outsider, that's what he is. In LA, practically everyone is an outsider ― so by default, no one is. You can come from Seattle chasing your destiny and fit right in.

Here? Here, he orders coffee and waffles before even taking a seat at a stool from someone whose look screams that Jude's not one of the locals. It's not particularly comfortable, but it's his only refuge from co-stars who make him nervous or can't imagine themselves at a place such as this.

"Hey, can I get a little," he motions with his fingers, "extra whipped cream for the waffles? The craft service at the set is... scarce with good options."

To be entirely fair to her 2002 Civic, it's not the car's fault for not being taken in for a check up or two over the past couple of years. It was bound to betray her in the middle of the road, with searing heat tracing burns on the back of Brooke's neck as she stands ― hands on her hips and shoulders high ― in front of the open hood as if she knows what she's supposed to be doing.

The smoke is coming to a slow stop now that the engine isn't running, and the vibration of her phone in the back pocket is the only thing to be worried about. She's not supposed to be anywhere, per se, but there is an open call to the county clerk's office waiting to postponed because of car troubles on the way to getting a marriage license.

But then marriage is a step Brooke's not even sure about ― and eloping? Well, there's more ways than one to read the destiny of her car breaking down. She's too far in her thoughts to even notice someone until they tap her on the shoulder.

Jerking back and turning to face them, Brooke lets a soft breath she was holding out slowly and shakes her head. "It's so kind of you to stop and help, but I have this under control." She's not sure whom she's trying to convince, but it's not working on herself. "I'm about to call a tow truck, it'll be handled."