InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "There's a silicone chip in me!"

Bran Wilder {The Phantom} (lemortvivant) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-06-07 00:50:00

Entry tags:

meg giry, phantom of the opera

Who: Bran and James
What: A meeting
Where: Le Croquembouche
When: Thursday at 3
Warnings: Language... probably not much else. It's a public place.

Bran really would have preferred to keep his fable a secret for a few more weeks, maybe even a month - actually, if no one had ever found out then it would have been just fine with him. Realistically, though, he realized that sooner or later people were going to start connecting the dots. People were stupid, but even stupid people caught on eventually, especially when they were in groups. Now it was out in the open, and at the very least he hadn't had any threatening notes or unexpected visitors. Lotte seemed to have been right when she said everyone would be more distracted with the guy from the penthouse and his predicament.

Thinking of Lotte just made him frustrated, since he had the feeling that he'd said something wrong during their conversation but couldn't figure out what. That was the problem with the internet - it was fucking impossible to read people with nothing but typed words to go off of.

Despite his general dislike of the entire situation, Bran was at the coffee shop by 2:30, dressed simply in a shirt and jeans. As always his facial scars were well hidden, because his whole building might have known he became the Phantom once a month but that did not mean he was going to start flaunting his bitch of a grandmother's handiwork to the world. He ordered a large coffee, black, and grabbed a corner table by the window to wait. This James had no idea what he looked like, and he didn't know what she looked like either, but he didn't care. Maybe it would mean this meeting would never happen and he could head back.

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ex_peepshows656
2010-06-07 11:23 pm UTC (link)

She was there right on time, pushing through the door of the coffee shop at two minutes 'til 3:00. Although James expected to be at work in an hour and half, she didn't look much like a dancer at the moment. A hooker or a club brat, perhaps. The dark sea of her hair was teased and curled, looking more like a disco mane than anything. There were hoops in her ears and some silver ribbon corkscrewed through the hairspray-stiff coils of her hair. Despite the dramatic shadows over her eyes, she was dressed casual. Slim bluejeans and an ancient gray tee shirt that proclaimed Jersey Girls Do It Better in a fine, calligraphic script.

James didn't know who she was looking for, and there were a good half dozen patrons standing in line for coffee, another quartet of customers taking up tables as they sipped their chosen poisons. Several people looked up from their drinks or their magazines when she walked in the door, but that was to be expected. People were always looking at her, always watching her. She considered a couple of tables before stepping up to the counter and ordering an iced black coffee with raspberry. While the barista worked on her drink, James put her back to the counter and turned on the room again before simply calling out, "I'm looking for eleven-oh-six?"

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lemortvivant
2010-06-08 03:16 am UTC (link)

Bran stared out the window as if lost in thought, entertaining himself by listening to the conversations around him while he waited. His hearing had always been exceptionally good, and it was easy to filter the individual voices so they didn't overlap, but instead remained separate and fluid. The two women behind him were discussing the latest exploits of someone called Lizzie, while the man and woman to his left were engaged in a whispered argument about their apartment and personal space. It was mundane talk, but strangely he didn't mind a bit of the ordinary every now and then.

Every time someone entered, he followed the crowd - because sheep blended in far better than wolves - and let his gaze slide to the door before returning to the sidewalk outside. When the dark-haired woman in the gray tee shirt walked in, he studied her as everyone else did and raised an eyebrow at her hair before sighing. Even though he knew not all people resembled their fables, Lotte seemed rather similar to Christine, so he was half expecting someone who resembled Christine - and this woman couldn't have been farther from Meg Giry if she tried.

He was just beginning to consider leaving when he heard his apartment number being called, and as he turned in his chair he saw that the speaker was none other than Jersey Girl. So this was Lotte's friend, James? Now he was curious, and his smile was cool and wry as he as he half-raised his hand like a child in a classroom. "I believe that would be me, five-oh-one."