"You wouldn't happen to know where I can get a decent cup of coffee, would you?"
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"You wouldn't happen to know where I can get a decent cup of coffee, would you?"

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On Broken Glass||Triston&Brook
Triston wasn’t used to letting people get within arms reach let alone become a part of his day to day schedule. Despite that though he had found himself running along the same path as another; A woman who seemed to hide her secrets behind her smiles and her ferocity behind her eyes. Triston had first come across Brooklyn while exploring new running trails. He had a very specific set of needs for his cardio workouts, but his running generally was done on urban trails that he scouted himself. This was the first time he had ever come across someone on one of his runs, when his body was working and burning through any blood he had consumed before; resulting in a slightly hungry vampire pushing himself harder than usual. To his amusement however the brunette seemed to keep her cool even when they had began running side by side. It had become an unconscious habit that formed for the both of them that spanned throughout his later times in New York. They had never engaged in any deep conversations, so much so that neither of them truly learned the other’s name until much later. It wasn’t that they had bonded or anything, but more so they developed a mutual trust of each other just by being around one another daily. That felt like yesterday, the months felt like minutes to him now.
Shaking his head clear of his thoughts just in time as the sound of a door creaking open resounded through the abandoned gym Triston kept running as a personal place to get back. Only one other person knew where it was and that he’d even be there to begin with. His running partner. “Look Brook, I just wasn’t feeling the run today. Had a little bit more to vent off today than usual. Needed to let loose a bit ya know?” Oddly enough Triston was nervously wrapping his hands as he spoke. As if trying to mask the visible damage on his knuckles, the product no doubt of hours upon hours of punching the multiple bags that lie scattered around the gym floor without rest. A pound for pound reminder of every memory he beat into those bags. The one way he knew to clear his mind when it began to scream at him about his past.
“I hope this isn’t some fantasy attempt to get me back in the world is it? Come to give me the pep talk again? I’m doing alright now, I just got a little heated earlier. You uh... You wanna give it a go?” He raised a brow towards her inquisitively, possibly offering her a friendly challenge. To try and sweeten the deal he through out one last thing as a bonus, “Tell you what, you give the bags a few blows and I’ll tell you how old I am. You’ve been curious right?” It wasn’t until the words left his mouth that he realized that he had just unwittingly walked onto broken glass. It was too late to back out now though as he wouldn’t let her see him step back from his word. It did however keep him from adding to the deal further.
--A sea of orange stood before Jun as he opened his bedroom door into the living area of his apartment. a small twinge of pain in his head reminding him of his few-too-many drinks from the night before. “Damn traffic cones,” he muttered under his breath before going towards one. They were heavier than he remembered, already feeling the soreness from carrying them. He waddled towards the front door and down the stairs back into the real world. Gasping for breath, he spotted someone walking close by and awkwardly headed to them, cone still in his hands. “Hey, weird question, but would you mind helping me get some of these out of my apartment?”
Robin was taking a stroll among one of Brooklyn’s hippest neighborhoods when she saw what looked like a moving truck outside one of the older building. Curiosity getting the better of her she decided to peak at the boxes. Whoever the person was had a pretty good sense of style. “Hello? Anyone moving in or out?” She called out.
“You know what’s the most amazing thing that happen today? As you know I’m a teacher to the most beautiful kindergarteners and today was ‘Who inspired me the most?’ day and they had to dress up as someone who inspired them. And guess what?!” A bright smile form on to her lips to show how proud she was. “Two girls and one little boy dressed up as me. It feels so nice to know you’re doing something good in the world! I never thought I would inspired anyone!”

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“Stupid lottery,” Carlos muttered to himself as he walked out of a local corner store. Not exactly a fan of these little convenient stores himself (as he has had to review a few of them for fire alarm inspections, Carlos was turned off by the things he saw behind the scenes of these stores), the only way he got his lottery fix is by entering one. “I always lose, and yet, can’t stop.” As he continued to scratch one away, he sighed sadly. The most he has ever one is ten bucks, and he immediately used that money to buy scratch tickets-- that inevitably left him with nothing. After tossing the losing ticket in a nearby trash can, he stood outside of the store briefly beside a stranger. What they were occupied with, he didn’t really care, as he interrupted them shamelessly. “You wouldn’t happen to have a penny on you, hm?” His fingernail was in pain from the previous scratch off, and he had about four more to go.
“I love the flea market you never know what your going to find,” Robin said eagerly as she perused the items she wanted for her shop. One such items was a bean bag chair. Items from the 80s and 90s were popular and she decided to test it out, only to find that she kept slipping off due to the material of her skirt and stockings. “A little help please,” she asked to the people walking by, as she kept falling over the bean bag chair.
Like any good server, she was prompt, prepared, and poised.
She knew all the regular clients by heart -- name, favorite meal, favorite wine, spouse, spouse history, children, vacation homes, careers, even their pills and prescriptions. Serving was solely and entirely about relationships. And Siobhan had mastered the art. Each guest was a member of the Jean-George family, and, by extension, her family. So when there were new guests, it was her job as head server to ensure that they became regulars. They were to be treated like royalty, and she enjoyed both being a beacon of knowledge and guidance throughout their dining experience, and a waiter who could make their every whim a reality.
Nearing the end of the lunch rush, she saw a bright new face seated at a modest table by the window. She was first in line to greet a new guest after the host had seated them, so it took no more than half a beat for her to make her way to their table.
“Good afternoon, welcome,” she said with warmth and grace, placing her hands strategically: one behind her, a server’s at-the-ready pose, the other on the top of the guest’s chair, a maternal, embrace-like gesture. Coupled, the hand motions made for both a pleasant and comfortable, at ease experience. “My name is Siobhan, your server will be with you shortly to take care of you. In the mean time, if there is anything you need, please let me know. I’d be happy to offer any recommendations or service. Shall we start with something to drink?”