Who: riven lund & bianca simon What: grocery shopping When: friday, 9/20, afternoon Where: organic grocery store Warnings/Rating: none; general audiences most likely Notes: sorry again for being late, lady!
Everyone had a thing that they were particular about. Some people had issues with their appearance; they couldn't stand to leave their home without having the right hair, the right make-up or accessories, or the right clothes, or the right look, period. Other people focused on their vehicle; those were the ones that wouldn't drive anything new or anything that cost less than a hundred grand or anything older than a single year. There were all sorts of things that people could fixate on, but Riven Lund had never been particular about anything except having a neat, clean space and exactly the right food.
He had been tidy as a child -"Tidy? Listen, 'tidy' is remembering how to fold hospital corners on your sheets and putting your clothes in the hamper. When you spend three hours bleaching your clean floor, you are a little more than tidy."- but Riven had only started to care about his food once he'd learned how to cook. It turned out that knowing how many people had to handle his food and knowing exactly how they had to handle his food tended to make him think more about how it was prepared in general.
Riven tried to ignore the snort from Phil as he grabbed a cart at the organic grocery store he'd found. It wasn't close enough to town for him to come every day, not when he wasn't sure how stable his hours were going to be at the casino and he was twenty minutes out from town. That meant he had to buy more rather than more often. His hands shook slightly on the cart's grip at the thought: keeping food too long in the house was on the list of things that bothered Riven.
His OCD was, at first glance, vastly out of place with the type of persona that he gave off. Riven hadn't managed to remember to shave in three days which wasn't too shocking. He came from blondes and he'd never grown thick hair on his face. There was little chance he was going to wind up with a mountain man beard that looked anything other than a scraggly attempt at the same. One would likely note that he hadn't cut his hair at all in years either or that his shirt could have used a good pressing or that he obviously couldn't tie a tie to save his life or that his shoes were scuffed, cheap, and clearly not the thing that business wear was made of or that, honestly, Riven Lund was simply not the kind of man who appeared to be very well put together at all.
"You could have asked me about the tie. I would have helped. I may have tied one or two in my life and there are shirts that are wrinkle-resistant. This look you're working is only making it easier for you to blend in to the background. Don't you get tired of living down to your own expectations?"
Curling his shoulders in a little further, Riven gave a low sigh as he pushed his cart to a stop in front of the apples. They had five varieties that looked good enough to consider, but he wasn't sure which he could do the most with considering what else he had already at his place. Phil usually piped up with some input on how fiber was important, but didn't Riven think he should focus on a better foundation for his life than a better foundation for his meal plan; it was a little surprising to hear him go quiet for a change.
Phil wasn't exactly chatty, but he wasn't shy with his opinion either.
He leaned further over his cart to look at the apples on display with a smile beginning to stretch slowly across his face.
Hearing someone approach, Riven turned lazily to ask, "Do you want me to move? I'm still weighing my options. I'm feeling Fuji for the versatility, but they do have Braeburn which never fail to brighten my day."
It was more information than the woman needed, but Riven had never really found a way to converse with anyone in what would be considered a "normal" manner.