#rcwes

As far as millennial culture was concerned, Lana was a friend. It didn’t matter that they’d never met anywhere, or that Nico had never actually seen her face before-- they were “friends”, inasmuch as e-mails and chats and all that kind of thing instilled a sense of camaraderie.

It didn’t make him feel any less ridiculous, though, standing outside the Hideout with both hands in the pockets of his coat. The way his palms sweat reminded him a little bit of first date jitters, and if he felt a little bitter for experiencing that sort of emotional turmoil without any actual payoff, he wasn’t going to think too hard about it.

He’d described himself to Lana well enough, he imagined, not too vague and not too specific: tall, dark hair, blue eyes, wearing a black coat and old jeans and mint green shoes-- and, of course, a marigold tucked neatly in his front pocket. If his height didn’t give him away (Nico did notice with some amusement that he was taller than the average Beaumont resident), then the splash of bright yellow against a dark coat probably would. It was just a matter of him looking out for what Lana described she’d be wearing, now, and though his brows furrowed slightly as a young girl came into his line of sight wearing precisely the outfit he’d been e-mailed the details of, he wanted to write it off as a coincidental sort of thing.

After all, the girl that was steadily coming closer couldn’t possibly be more than twelve years old, and...

And was walking straight his way?

Frozen in place, Nico blinked once. Twice. And then again, harder, because he had to be mistaken, right? Lana’s vocabulary was way too good for some kid in middle school (that or Nico was far more crude than he thought). He opened his mouth and shut it again, and then finally chanced a surprised, “Lana?” as he took a few steps forward.

“Is your name Lana?”

Closed To: Lana ( @rcwes ) Time: May 17th, Mid-Afternoon Location: The Hideout

The ding ding of the small bell above the door chimed as Terence walked into the cafe, shifting the bag slung over his shoulder. The young man often frequented The Hideout after work or a long day of classes, a cup of tea or fruit pastry always cheering him up. Eddie’s cooking was fantastic. And often, Terence would run into one of the few friends he had or odd acquaintance, such as Miss Lana Rowe sitting over in a cozy corner, typing furiously at her laptop. 

At this, Terence paused and ran his tongue ever so slightly across his bottom lip, mechanically making himself step forward in line. Terence had known Lana for years, practically since he first moved into Beaumont and they met at this very cafe. They’d gotten to know each other over school breaks, and he had found himself a friend in her and all the oddities they had in common. He was there for her when her mama passed as best he could be, and he’d heard of this boyfriend who changed her life, always thinking he must be good for her the way she talked and rambled so fondly of him.

And then he’d met him. Theoretically, the guy had seemed okay at first. Terence supposed it was normal for couples to come back from college and move into together, and he had truly wanted to support them both. But then he started eyeing Tiffani and just about every other blonde in town and it had been a rough six months since then. Frankly, he hadn’t known how Lana could stand that gawking, flirting, cocky, holier-than-though asshat, but he’d never said a damned thing. It hadn’t stopped a certain wall springing up between them though, a tension that was hard to diffuse when one’s love best friend was being so openly flirtatious with another’s boyfriend who was also being overly openly flirtatious. Seriously, how was that not cheating? It had drove Terence mad, and he’d felt rather alone in all of that drama he’d never asked for.

Turns out, Lana hadn’t been able to put up with him with after all. Or at least, things had finally reached a boiling point and snapped. Terence had to admit, he was glad Lana had finally kicked him out, but the thing that kept tickling the back of his mind and making him nauseous was that Tiffani had supposedly been the cause of it. But no, that wasn’t right. She’d been a spark, but Miguel was the guilty one. Though he couldn’t deny that Tiffani’s indifference to tearing a couple apart, that she had been doing... hopefully nothing with that good-for-nothing-bastard kept eating and eating at him.

A rather frustrated sigh escaped his lips, and he quickly had to cover it with a fake cough. His turn to order, and he’d found he’d rather lost his appetite so he stuck with a chamomile vanilla pick-me-up tea to calm his nerves. Then, the inevitable. Should he...say hi? Was that still okay? He wasn’t certain Lana still wanted anything to do with anyone connected to Tiff. But he wanted to be there for her

Drumming his fingers across the top of his fresh cup of tea, he decided it’d be better to try than to lose a friend. Hesitant, Terence shuffled over to the table Lana was working at, pausing before muttering, “H-hey Lana. Mind if I join you?”