snow is (fair) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-09-14 13:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | huntsman, snow white |
WHO: Tess and Ethan
WHAT: Chance meetings and impromptu culinary consultations
WHERE: Some grocery store
WHEN: Recently?
WARNINGS: Nada
It had been a long fucking time since Ethan had been in a position to do any sort of grocery shopping for himself. In his youth, everything had naturally been provided for him. When he was on the run, he'd subsisted on the generosity - and sometimes tradings of one kind or another - with truckers, sidewalk philanthropists, kind hearted old ladies, and greasy old men. Of course, that kind of shit was all behind him and now that Ethan was on his own, responsibility was turning out to be quite a bitch. He only had to care for himself and get to class on time, but it was the little things that were striking blows and blades into his withered heart. His condo at Turnberry was practically fucking barren because he couldn't stomach the idea of buying a catalog full of things that he didn't need. Furniture and knick knacks and hangers for his clothes, forget it.
Although as it turned out, one couldn't really live off of take out and curly fries forever. So it was that Ethan begrudgingly made his way to the corner market. It seemed to be some weird cross-section of a grocery store, liquor store, and convenience store all rolled into one neon-lit hybrid. As for what he was looking for, that was a bit of a mystery. He'd never cooked a day in his life, save for some marshmallows over a fire. Which would explain the bag of multi-colored marshmallows in his cart alongside a half dozen packets of koolaid. Weary and barely paying attention, Ethan leaned into the handle of his cart at a hunch and dragged his feet with a yawn. His jeans were overpriced but wrinkled with no care, his tee shirt was hunter green jersey fabric with a half dozen chained necklaces with medals dangling over his chest. They clicked and rattled a sweet metallic melody against the cart's handle while he moved.
Tess was also grocery shopping, though her basket had a little more nutritional value than his cart. Just a little. Though Sam was only sleeping on her couch occasionally, there were enough occasions to make it seem there were two people living in her tiny apartment, and two people eating up all her groceries. Her wallet wasn’t too fond of the change though and pinching pennies was the day’s agenda, making her shopping trip just a little longer as she hunted for what she could afford.
Her trips up and down the aisles lead her to often cross paths with the other shoppers and the dark haired man clearly ready to spiral into a sugar coma, if his grocery list was anything to go by, hadn’t escaped her. She tried not to be nosey, making her way inconspicuously through the store in a pair of shorts and loose grey shirt hanging off of one shoulder, the shuffle of her flip flops the only signal of her arrival. But the second time she passed him by she couldn’t help but lean over and take and obvious look into his shopping cart, a smirk tugging at her lips even as her brow quirked upward. “Eating healthy, I see.”
If she was trying not to be nosey, she was doing a shit job of it. Despite Ethan's languid slouch, he was more than perceptive thanks to certain influences from the man in his head. This wasn't a voice that he heard or dreams that he had, it was like a surge through the senses. Maybe it was just sobriety, extended sobriety bringing about rewired brain activity or something. But he noticed things more these days. Especially blonds. After they'd bypassed one another for a second time, the sardonic quip of her voice was enough to bring his red canvas sneakers to a trudging halt. Their rubber soles even gave a little squeak on the spotless tile. "Got an awful lot of sarcasm there for somebody who doesn't even have a bag of spinach in her cart."
“I’m sure Popeye’s very disappointed in me,” she agreed, lips thinned to a solemn line before the immediately quirked back up. Now that she had been caught and clearly he didn’t mind, she took a longer look into his cart, making an obvious show of standing on her tip toes and leaning over. After a long moment she gave a soft tut with her tongue before settling back on her heels.
“Nope. Survey says my impressive array of sandwich materials,” she flicked her finger against the metallic bars of her cart near the small back of bread and lunch meat, “still beats your sugar coma waiting to happen. Maybe you should get something a little hardier. If you want to do more than run around for fifteen minutes before passing out for the rest of the day.”
"Who said I was done shopping?" On the incredulous defensive, Ethan rocked back on his heels with a kitten's scowl, as harmless as it was adorable. A little flash of teeth for the hell of it. "I happen to be about to head down the organic aisle for some almond milk and quinoa." Since she was so nosey... and hot, which he somehow noticed only in the aftermath of her accusation. "I.. haven't ever really been to that part of the store." Or this store at all, actually. "So maybe you could.. should me the way?" There was a tilt of his head and a flop of devil dark hair in his woodland eyes. He was young, but the image came greatly from that overgrown hair and lanky frame. His eyes alone told the story of a soul's age.
Tess made a show of nodding and cooing softly, eyes wide and impressed that there supposedly was ridiculously expensive and healthy foods in his future. When he made his request she couldn’t stifle her giggle, soft and pleased, and her eyes quickly flickered down to his hands for a ring before shaking her head, hair spilling over her shoulder. “Come on handsome,” she decided, pushing her cart ahead of his before turning back to him. Slim fingers wrapped around the front of his cart a moment, gently tugging it behind her before letting go and pushing her own towards the organic section. “You can tell me what’s on your list. I’ll point them out. You can pull them off the top shelf. It’ll be fun.”
The giggle was promising, even if it meant that she might only be laughing at his expense. Brushstroked eyebrows twitched with fueled interest and approval when she called him handsome. Or maybe she was the kind of girl that deemed that as a nickname for any guy she didn't know the name of, this city was certainly full of them. There were a couple of rings on his hands, sterling with geometric shapes. The kinds of homemade, hammered steel bought from boardwalk vendors and art students. Certainly not anything that signified a walk down any aisle. Ethan scratched the back of his neck when she mossied on ahead, and the forest oak of his eyes took silent appreciation of the new angle before she took possession of his cart. He let her steer, and the soles of his shoes kept the pace slow and steady so as not to run into her ankles. "I think I'd rather see you pull them from the top shelf," he said casually, dropping his elbows for a cross into the handle of his cart once more. Spine curving, that grin smooth enough to talk a demon onto his side.
It was a bit of both that had Tess calling the stranger by pet names. He was definitely hot but they had only just met. She wasn’t going to care about names quite yet though his continued flirting made her consider changing that. “And here I thought I’d be bending for something on a low shelf,” she said with a quick grin tossed over her shoulder before pressing forward. It wasn’t much longer before their little shopping cart caravan came to a stop, Tess’ hand gesturing to the section of the store that slightly better organized and more lit than the rest. “There you go. All the expensive vegetables and ‘healthy’ foods,” out came her finger quotes, “you could ever want. So what are odd item are we looking for?” For in her mind no one actually went shopping for more than a few things in the organic food section. Just a few items here and there from a recipe jotted down off the Food Network. No one in her world could or would blithely buy expensive ingredients if they didn’t have to.
"You can reach for whatever shelves you like, shopping consultant." When they came to a stop around the corner in a much smaller portion of the store, Ethan considered the boxes of allergen free cereals, the many cartons of milk alternatives, and vegetables boasting little organic stickers. "I don't see any watermelons," he said with a sudden lift of sour attention. As if organic watermelons would surely be found in every market this side of the state line. Ethan stood up a little straighter, reaching out for a package of soy cheese slices and examining it with suspicion. The lack of watermelon really seemed to take the wind out of his sails and Ethan sighed, dropping the soy cheese onto a variety of granola boxes in passing. Leaning his weight into the cart's handle once again, he nudged her hip with the opposing caged end. "Why don't you surprise me, consultant?" If she managed to produce a box of organic condoms, she was a keeper.
If only she was that quick. Instead Tess was grinning, the roll of her eyes losing much of its effect in the face of her smile. His nudge was met with one of her own, a soft swing of her hips against the cart as she let hers go. “I don’t even know what you like,” she half sighed, half whined. Though that didn’t seem to stop her as she perused the vegetables they were near. Gingerly planting two feet at the bottom of his cart she hoisted herself up before leaning dramatically to grab a little plastic bag. “What if you hate it? What if you have allergies? What if I rid the world of another tofu obsessed soy lover, and this time not even with deliciously bad-for-you food but with death? You’re cute so I might never be forgiven.”
"Yeah, I'd be missed." It was confirmed with a little sigh that said he wasn't exaggerating, and not just because of his good looks. Even if he had very few friends to speak of, he had an overbearing father and an emotional vampire of a sister. Ethan and his sister were too close in age for him to actually enjoy she, she was more like having an evil twin. He kept the cart steady for his consultant with a grip on the handlebar when she reached for the plastic produce bag. "I don't have any allergies.." He seemed to consider that for a moment, ".. that I know of." The vegetables looked relatively safe, even if there were a few that he didn't recognize on sight. "You should be safe."
“So you think,” she countered, grabbing something green and inspecting it thoroughly with a squeeze before tossing it into his basket with a clang. She did it once more, grabbing food more for its more interesting visual features rather than anything practical like cooking. She checked his reactions with sidelong glances but little came in the way of recognition and finally she sat, perched on the metal edge, legs swinging off the side as she regarded the small heap of food she laid in his cart. “No idea what you’re going to cook with that shit though. You think you can handle all that?” Not that he looked like much of a chef. “Or am I fired after the first ten minutes of my consulting gig.”
Ethan assessed his cart's exotic bounty with a castaway tilt of his unruly head. He was dark hair in cedarwood eyes, the bright and unbridled curiosity of youth's swansong. Las Vegas for him was the end of an era. Soon enough he'd be expected to grow up and get responsible, rot away at the boardroom and adopt a brittle wife that he never had to see. It wasn't really something that he liked to reflect on, and any distraction from that kind of destination was a good thing. Even if it was only vegetables and leggy company. "I think I can handle it," and he sounded confident. Never mind that a third of the produce were things he'd never actually seen before, or at least things he couldn't put his finger on by sight alone. Ethan settled a foot on the back rung of his cart and pushed forward idly. Time to escape the granola. "You should come have some experimental dinner with me," he offered while leaning forward to itemize the collection and discern a menu. "We'll have bok choy with a lovely koolaid reduction." After all, they'd never discussed her consulting fee.
“You’re going to cook?” Tess’ jaw dropped ever so slightly, brows arching up in surprise. She cast a glance back down to his basket, laughing softly at the ridiculous array of food she dropped in it. “Serves me right,” she muttered under her breath but there was a grin there even as she slid off the side of his cart. As she set her feet down on the ground she gave a good show, stretching those long legs out with a sigh before resting her one hand on her hip, the other on the handle of her own cart. “Going to mix our new business with pleasure? I’m game. When’s good?” Sam did say she needed to get out more.
Drawing back with his cart of edible oddities, Ethan veered around her in order to lead the way to the check out. Steering with one hand and a knee plugged up against the metal weave of the cart. Reaching behind, he fishhooked some fingers into the front of her cart, effectively allowing them to switch places as he began to drag her along to the conveyer belts and cashiers. "Any night is good." He made a point to keep away from the lascivious nightlife and spent most evenings indoors out of self-preservation. Not that this plan of attack was completely without its hiccups. Thanks to his headfuck of a sister knowing where he lived, a quiet night in could never really be bet on being that quiet at all. Thankfully, Sophie hadn't come around in a couple weeks now.. ever since that fight. Ethan tried not to think about it, which generally kept him from worrying about her.
Unloading all of the produce and sugar onto the rubber belt, he turned back to the girl with a contemplative glance. He wondered if he should introduce himself, or if anonymity was part of the appeal. Ethan had a general appreciation for rolling deep with no names attached.. but he'd gone shopping with this girl, not fucked her in an elevator. Still thinking on it, he snatched one of those plastic dividers up and laid it down as a finish line for his groceries. Taking a step back, he hauled all of her own items from her cart and placed them in a pile ready for checkout. The items swept by in an experienced whoosh of beep, beep, beep.
Handing over his credit card to the tired woman behind the computer, Ethan took the plastic bags of his purchases and dropped them back into his cart. "I'll pay for her's too," he said with a tick of his head back toward the blond with the legs. The cashier shrugged and swiped the card before ringing the girl up just as quickly. Reaching for a pen, Ethan scrawled his number on the back of his receipt before handing it back to his grocer consultant. Below the hyphenated digits, Ethan. "Call me when you want to have dinner."