#jaxthreads

Jax lay her phone back down on the table, and picked up the menu again. She wasn't impatient, but five minutes late in her book was already a red flag. Especially for a first date. But she wouldn't be bothered so much if she hadn't already been going on two days without actual human contact. Jobs and small talk not included. She needed an audible human interaction, texts were starting to drive her crazy, and before she could start sprouting off none-sense to the first person she saw, she needed to settle the itch.

She went on dates for three reasons: 1) she was an extravert, solidarity drove her insane. 2) she liked to fill her time with meeting new people, whether it went anywhere or not, having some new friends or acquaintances in town could never hurt. 3) she still believed what her doctors had once told her: that maybe something would some day jolt her memory.

At the sound of footsteps that stopped at her table, she looked up, giving a smile. "There you are," she said. "I was starting to think I wasn't pretty enough for people to show up early for."

THREE DIAL TONES--

Jax could not be everywhere at the same time, but she could try. Having picked up a bouquet of flowers for her date, she’d ran down the subway to make it to the skating rink in time, stopping on her way there by her favourite coffee spot to get some hot beverages, and managed to get everything to the place without a single spill. Standing at the entrance, in her best most comfortable pantalons - grey - and a woollen red top. She was always too early, to scope out the area, a habit she couldn’t shake. When her date arrived, she waved. “Hello, I double checked the coffee that you liked, I hope I got the right one,” she said with a wink. 

Jax leaned forward over the table towards her co-worker, eyes slightly narrowed as she studied his face. "You really don't believe me?" she asked, again, as if she hadn't said it before. She certainly had. She had before simply thought that the conversation was over, and that she'd been able to convince him. She looked hurt for a moment, but then crawled back up and took a sip from her coffee. "Is it because I'm such a well-rounded individual?" she asked, hoping to deflect this time. Though she really wanted to convince him.

The cafe was brustling, so busy that it was almost impossible to get a table. But Jax always came prepared. She’d reserved beforehand, a seat for three, knowing it would ensure some extra leg room. High teas weren’t her usual, but she was feeling hungry after all the Terror business and all the worrying about the White Crocodiles, and the brainstorming what she could do for Niko to help her. Thus, she’d decided on a lot of food, a lot of tea, and possibly many tiny sandwiches. 

She looked up at her date when they entered the cafe and waved them over. Then flagged the waitress that she was ready for the first serving of whatever was on the menu.

Jax was known as a serial dater, to anyone who knew. She went on at least three dates a week, sometimes with the same person, often times with new people. Most of the time it didn’t lead anywhere, sometimes it led somewhere that was comfortable for a few nights, other times it led to friendship. She was always eager to find out what would be next. 

Thus she smiled brightly as her date - clearly from the fact that the picture definitely had been a good one - appeared around the corner, walking towards the restaurant door. “Hello,” she said. She held out her hand. “I’m Jax.” 

Jax had never considered herself an extravert when she lived in Pleasance, Ohio. If anything, she’d been as far removed from one as possible: always looking out for herself, keeping away from the general crowd, doing her chores and not letting herself be seen. She’d made remaining a ghost her best skill. But when she found herself a little home in New York City, she reflected on why that was. Her employer hadn’t been a man most people looked kindly upon, and half of the town questioned her loyalty or were disgusted by it. 

In this big city, Jax could remain unseen when she felt like it, but she could also live in the beauty of just being another human being among other human beings. She’d found a Dutch speaking one purely by accident, and with every conversation she held with Coen, more knowledge came floating up to the surface. It was only language for now, but she was certain that she’d eventually find meaning in there as well. 

She placed a hand on Coen’s shoulder, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and slid onto the bench opposite of him with her chosen beverage. “Hey, goedemorgen, hoe gaat het?”