Ballerina
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Post by Elle Phoenix on May 6, 2015 19:16:03 GMT -5
After having stood in front of the door for nearly a full minute, Elle opened the door and went into the coffee shop. A smile curved her lips for a brief moment as she took in the scene before her. It was not very busy, but it wasn't empty either. Two people in line, a pair at a table having some sort of meeting, three solitary people at three separate tables with books out and headphones in. "I suppose some things never actually change," she murmured to herself as she moved to take her place in line.
She idly tugged her hair back into a ponytail as she waited, her gaze sweeping over the choices on offer on the board. She patiently waited her turn, finally deciding to throw caution to the wind and order the s'mores coffee latte. It sounded like it had about a billion calories in it, which meant it would be sinfully delicious. Having ordered the somewhat coffee-flavored sugar concoction in one of the huge mugs available for in-house orders, she dragged several crumpled ones out of the back pocket of her jeans. Handing them over the cashier, she dropped the change into the tip cup.
Stepping to the side, she turned to face the coffee house once more, waiting for her beverage to be finished. One of the solitary students has packed up his stuff, leaving an open table by the window. She stepped over to claim the table, setting a book on it as she pulled the chair out. Stopped by the siren call of the guy making her coffee - barista just seemed too pretentious for this place - she retreated to the coffee bar to claim the ridiculously large mug. She carried it back to the table, inhaling the scent the entire way.
"Totally worth it." She settled at the table, the mug cradled in her hands. She turned her gaze to the world outside the window, a faint smile on her face.
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Telephone Psychic
Heterosexual.
Single.
Metahuman
Authored by Resa.
Offline.
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Post by Isaiah Greene on May 6, 2015 19:58:25 GMT -5
Listening to a recording of yourself talk was a little disorienting. He sounded nothing like that. His actual voice had a timbre that resonated with the confidence of no less than fifty-seven Barry White's. Listening to himself talk was either a symptom of his egoism, or he was all over the newest coffeehouse hipster trend. He sounded like a munchkin from The Wizard of Oz. There was a very real possibility that one of his co-workers had applied a voice modulator to his calls without his knowledge. His brow furrowed intently, waiting for the inevitable auto tune to kick in when his eyes wandered over to a sylphlike woman stationary at the door.
She was a fairy-tale princess with those long, jean-clad legs and tumbling blonde hair.
He sprawled out at a table, one leg thrown across an adjacent chair as he scrutinized her. After spending what seemed to be an inordinately amount of time standing there, she opened the door and walked in. He quickly looked elsewhere, avoiding the awkward eye-collide of complete strangers. His recording continued as he tapped his finger on the table, a call he had with a client the previous day. As a telephone "psychic," he was on a flexible scale rising and falling depending on a margin of error. Since the particle accelerator explosion, his errors had equaled exactly zero until his superiors became suspicious and he intentionally answered a portion of the time. He had always been intuitive, but this exceeded normal human perception. The how of the situation eluded him. He wasn't a psychic, he just played one on the telephone.
His eyes wandered across the room, settling on the slender blonde who had settled at a table at the window, her hands curved around the large mug she had apparently just acquired. The curve of her lips seemed content, almost feline-like. She looked like a free cup of coffee to him. Tugging out his ear-buds, Isaiah sauntered casually over to her table and grinned charmingly, "The corner-office of views. I'm pretty sure sitting here implies you are literally the C.E.O. of coffee."
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Ballerina
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Post by Elle Phoenix on May 6, 2015 20:28:54 GMT -5
The first sip of the coffee had confirmed that it was worth all the calories within it. She smiled a moment longer, her gaze not focused on the world outside the window, but on a memory. Her brother David driving his car down this street, right after he'd finished rebuilding the engine. He'd been so excited. She'd enjoyed the drive, as he'd sped along the street, uncaring of any traffic tickets he might incur. And now, his car. God. What would they do with his car? She frowned a bit at the thought. Maybe she ought to find someone to finish it. If she remembered properly, all that was left was the paint job. She blinked, her head snapping up at the sound of the voice intruding into her reverie. She blinked again, taking in the lean form standing before her. Not someone she'd known prior to her departure to dance.
"The CEO of coffee?" The frown has disappeared, a smile replacing it. "I could live with that. It would definitely beat working for the money to pay for the coffee." Unlike her brothers, Elle liked to talk to anyone and everyone. Not necessarily about her personal life, but about just general things or what might be a shared interest. Most often it evolved into new friendships, or, at the very least, pleasant social acquaintances. Matthew called her a natural networker. It might be true. On the rare occasions she did not want to speak to anyone else, she avoided places such as this, so as to not feel like she had to talk to someone. She eyed the man in front of her.
"Is this your normal table? Have I usurped your CEO position?" Amusement danced in her eyes. She looked utterly unrepentant about it, if that were the case.
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Telephone Psychic
Heterosexual.
Single.
Metahuman
Authored by Resa.
Offline.
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Post by Isaiah Greene on May 6, 2015 20:59:15 GMT -5
The faint frown that had faded her smile was curious and gave her less of an appearance of a mark. Regardless of his success at procuring a cup of coffee, she was the loveliest woman he had laid eyes on since last night on the internet. The welcoming curve of her lips signaled the social butterfly personality trait. Women tended to deflect a random stranger walking up to them, even in such a public place. It wasn't as if this was Tinder for caffeine addicts.
Not that he had a particular interest in picking up women in a coffee shop. Even the fact that she was an 11 out of 10 on a scale of 'Oh god why' and 'I have 3rd degree burns from how hot you are' couldn't distract him from his current life crisis. Like he was literally situationally psychic. With great power comes great responsibility and he was pretty sure that attempting to seduce the woman was irresponsible.
Or was it responsible? It could be the only responsible thing he would ever do in life. Ever.
He laughed at her response but then looked at her sternly, "This is regarding nothing so mundane as tables. I'm actually here to collect my royalties. You see, I invented coffee." His looked expectantly at the cup in her hands, "There are patent laws, you know. You can't just go cavorting around all willy-nilly with it. It's hot. Are you scheming to repeat the McDonalds incident?"
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Ballerina
Civilian
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Post by Elle Phoenix on May 6, 2015 21:15:57 GMT -5
"If you are here to collect royalties, my dear inventor, you are soliciting the wrong person. I am not the one profiting from your invention. I am just the one who is enjoying the fruits of your labor. Perhaps you might address this small royalties issue with the manager of this fine establishment?" The amusement in her eyes had intensified at his response to her question. Outright silliness on a first meeting? She could only hope he was as entertaining beyond the first blush. It would be a shame to find he was shallow. Not that shallow was the correct term, per se, but it would do. For now. Elle pulled the mug closer to her, possessively. She flicked her gaze to where the young man was taking a lengthy order of a harried looking man with a sheet of paper. She lowered her voice, her eyes widening in mock shock and horror.
"Look at the profit they are making off that young intern. What will you do?" She turned her gaze back to the man standing at her table. "Pistols at dawn?" She tipped her head to one side, giving him an assessing look. "No, not pistols at dawn." She shakes her head. "You strike me more as a speed dial at noon kind of guy..." She grinned.
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Telephone Psychic
Heterosexual.
Single.
Metahuman
Authored by Resa.
Offline.
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Post by Isaiah Greene on May 6, 2015 21:38:59 GMT -5
"Speed-dial at noon, how intuitive of you! I'm not one for guns. I am a pacifist except regarding combat against zombies." He shifted his weight, his face falling into a less playful demeanor, "My job does require extensive phone use."
Noting the possessive gesture surrounding her cup, he smiled. The woman had a certain air of intelligence and wit about her. Conning the intelligent ones tended to be a challenge, regardless of how excellent his memory and perception were. Perhaps he was just a sucker for the pretty ones. His gaze focused on her face, the pale curve of her cheek looking soft.
"However, where are your manners?" His reprimand was softened by his smile, "I lost a leg in the coffee war of 1968. Napalm was raining from the sky. Juan Valdez and I were in a bunker but we knew, we knew, we had to get to those beans. The freedom of caffeine for all could not be stopped! Valdez was hit. Part of his mustache was burned. He was inconsolable. I bent down to pick up the remains of his once luxurious facial hair and that's when I took a napalm to the leg."
He glanced down at his legs, while shrouded in jeans, that looked perfectly healthy and unscathed, "Mostly I am implying you should allow me to join you."
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Ballerina
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Post by Elle Phoenix on May 7, 2015 18:47:33 GMT -5
"Anyone who purports to be a pacifist in the eventuality of combat against zombies is a liar." She made a sound in her throat, obviously scoffing at the sanity of these people. Her gaze had remained on his face during their exchange, though her hands had set the mug on the table in front of her.
"It must be exhausting to have to work through the long list of people making a profit on your invention. Not to mention the phone calls to lawyers." A shake of her head, in sympathy and regret, though it is spoiled by the smile playing about her lips. "Truly, I do not know how you carry on." She leaned back in her chair, a brow rising over her left eye. The amusement that gleamed in her eyes was not faked. This particular conversation was the most absurd, yet the most satisfying she'd had in months.
"Lost a leg, mmmm?" Her gaze flicked to his legs, then slid back up him slowly, her smile curving more. "You must have a friend at the lab, as I can hardly see any form of difference. Truly, you are blessed." She chuckled at the loss of Valdez, a hand waving toward the empty chair before her.
"For Senor Valdez...."
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Telephone Psychic
Heterosexual.
Single.
Metahuman
Authored by Resa.
Offline.
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Post by Isaiah Greene on May 7, 2015 19:28:39 GMT -5
"I draw from many ethical systems," Isaiah waved his hands in the air expressively, "Jus in bello. Also, I don't actually believe that the walking dead are subject to the same rights as humans, as they aren't exactly alive. Next thing I know you'll be advocating ethical rights for your coffee."
She was staring into his eyes. This scenario was exactly like the start of a romantic comedy he had caught on Netflix. Well, minus his capability to read her mind. If she let him. Her coffee really looked fairly delicious, and his empty pockets felt heavy in response.
"I actually represent myself. It is honest work, worth it. Coffee is obviously my life." He smiled as she continued, and took her invitation without hesitation.
"For Senor Valdez indeed." At this point he was living vicariously through the hands curled around her coffee cup. He could almost feel the heat in his own hands, "I'm Isaiah, it's wonderful to interact with the masses and meet fans of my work. I could sign your napkin?"
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Ballerina
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Post by Elle Phoenix on May 7, 2015 19:46:19 GMT -5
"Pffft." She scoffed again, shaking her head. "The walking dead are merely that - dead men who do not know they are dead." She shrugged in a manner to indicate that was enough of that particular subject. "Now, coffee..." She smiles serenely. "Anything which would enhance the flavor of my coffee has my approval." She picked up her mug once more to sip the contents, sighing softly. Amazing. How she'd missed these sorts of things.
"Elle." She released the mug with one hand to extend it out to him. "Perhaps you might sign some coffee for me later? The bag containing it, of course. Signing actual coffee would be ruinous for the precious beans." Humor danced in her eyes.
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