#fatedstart

Sundays were good days because on Sunday’s Julius didn’t have work to do because there was no mail to deliver on Sunday’s. At least he didn’t have any to deal with. Usually Sunday’s meant he could sleep as long as he felt like, but today his friend had woken him up way too early -- around ten in the morning because usually Julius had been up for hours by then. His friend wanted to meet up with him in half an hour, which meant Julius had to get up from bed and pretend to be awake as he walked out of his apartment and out to the street. He didn’t even get to walk a whole block when his phone rang and his friend’s name flashing on the screen. “What? You gotta be kidding me. I just-... okay, fine. Bye.” He hang up and just let out a loud groan. His friend just called to let him know there was a change of plans and he couldn’t see him right now, which meant Julius had gotten up from the bed for nothing and now he was standing in the middle of the street feeling like falling asleep right there right now.

It had been years since Elsa had been on The Bachelor. Years, but that didn’t mean the public had forgiven her yet. In the immediate aftermath, people had been angry with her over Ben, for breaking his heart and leaving him to be with Tyler instead. After though, the rage had turned to her for Tyler’s sake, even though it hadn’t been her fault. With Orlando being as big a soccer city as it was, Elsa really shouldn’t have been surprised when the sticky, cold drink washed over her. The culprit, a young girl, early twenties, starting hurling insults at her as Elsa sputtered and wiped the stinging alcohol from her eyes. “Are you kidding me!” she shouted, voice breaking as it turned shrill, “Are you fucking kidding me! It’s been years! Back off!” Roughly shoving the girl out of the way, Elsa found the nearest wall, slumping against it as she buried her face in her hands, taking a brief moment to just calm herself down before she dealt with anything else.

This event couldn’t have been any more perfect for Theresa. There was art everywhere in several different forms and she was loving it. She had gotten a booth to promote her community theater, and had spent most of the day behind it, meeting new people and hopefully getting them interested in coming in for classes and/or auditions. Everyone knows that you have to have a bit of fun mixed in with work, so once a co-worker took over the booth for her, she took it as an opportunity to finally get out and explore all that there was to offer - not just what surrounded her booth. Walking up to the closest person, she smiled and tried to get their attention, in hopes they could point her in the direction of some of the fun things around. “Hey there. See anything interesting yet?”

Mitch Morison knew his drinking limits. He really did. However, tonight was getting the best of him. He had been bar hopping with a few of his co-workers or friends, or strangers-Mitch couldn't really remember- and he knew he should stop, but also knew he wouldn’t until someone had to call a cab to take him back to the hotel. All he needed now was either a fine woman to satisfy his needs or either get more drinking buddies or have the ones he was with continue drinking. “And my friend here will have....!?”

The arts festival was something that Meara absolutely felt like she could fit into. Finding a spot on the curb with her own drawing pad, the redhead started to draw the festival, something she could send to Reagan. Looking up to see someone staring, the Irish woman gave a smile. “You want to be in the drawing? I’m not part of any booths, but I have to take this all in and drawing is doing that for me.”

Sitting at the coffee shop as the rain poured outside, the petite brunette sighed as she scrunched her face in thought. “I really was hoping the rain would let up, but apparently luck is not on my side today,” she looked down at her outfit as she then looked at the umbrella. “I definitely picked the wrong day to wear heels.”

After stepping foot off the plane to Orlando, Noah wasn’t sure where she was going. She’d realized fairly quickly that her phone didn’t really work there in the US, which was a bit of a problem when trying to get in contact with the girl she’d flown there for. She wasn’t that bothered by it, ultimately, though, and had trekked out of the airport with her rucksack and an address that probably, eventually she’d find. After an hour of walking, however, she was still good and lost. Taking a step half into the rather empty street, Noah lifted an arm up to flag down the next vehicle, putting on a charming smile to the person as they slowed down. “Totally potentially trying to hitchhike here,” she opened up with, a pleasantness to her accented voice that usually worked in her favor when trying to get what she wanted. “But, mostly I just need some help with directions. I’ve got this address and a phone that I don’t think works here, so if you could at least point me in the right direction, that would be stellar.”

Sage’s night was not going well. The bar was crowded, college football games broadcast on all the screens, alcohol flowing freely. Grace was tucked in the corner with the Florida game. Sage could hear her cheering from across the bar, which only made her face fall further into a frown. Stanford was losing. Stanford was losing to Notre Dame of all teams, which was just unacceptable. As the Fighting Irish scored again, Sage let loose a few choice curses and tossed a couple napkins uselessly at the bar in front of her. “Why!” she burst out, “Who is calling these defensive plays? They’re running all over us! We’re ranked seventh! We’re not performing like we’re ranked seventh.” Grumbling, she took a large gulp of her beer, figuring just putting it out into the universe like that, not directed at anyone in particular, would make her feel better. Still though, the bar was crowded. She was half expecting a response.