Laz Delacroix (ohdeer) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-11-29 11:45:00 |
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Laila really needed to hire someone to work part-time. Someone to deliver breakfast or someone to change sheets or- just another set of hands. Cozy Cottage wasn’t full yet - they had most of the rooms reserved closer to the wedding, but that was still a little ways off - so her load wasn’t overwhelming just yet. But it was rapidly approaching. Laz was the last breakfast she had to deliver, at least, then she’d have a few hours to herself unless something went wrong. But mornings were always the most hectic, and she was feeling the rush as her hair kept falling in her face while she used both hands to balance the breakfast tray and knock on the door to his room. She leaned in to the door and called out softly, “Breakfast!” Short and sweet, because otherwise she might not shut up. Once that was accomplished, she took a small step back, straightened her shoulders, and put on her best Customer Service smile, attempting to look put together and not the mess she felt like. -- Laz had flown into DC yesterday afternoon, picked up his rental car, and headed south toward Dunhaven. He'd visited the almost sleepy suburb several times before- in his youth, with his cousins on the Delacroix/Alderman side growing up here, and even more recently, since both the Lyon/De Luca cousins had moved to the area. The familial connections weren't as strong as they once were, perhaps, when everyone had lived within the EU, but he liked to think he made a decent effort, most of the time. He'd pre-booked for his stay at the Cozy Cottage B&B, not in the least because- if he was going to be spending upwards of a fortnight away from home- he thought it might be nicer than the local Generic Motel. And the brochure had been true to fact, with the whole thing looking like something rather out of a mythical fairy tale upon his arrival. Expecting jet lag, he'd gone to bed early- though (and just his luck) sleep had been fitful at best. When he finally did nod off, Laz had dreams unlike anything else he'd seen or felt before. Which, well, might not have been entirely unusual, if he'd woken and hadn't remembered them at all, as was his usual. But, no, when he woke- to a knock and a cheerful Breakfast! call from the doorway- Laz blinked up from his bed, still halfway wondering why he hadn't woken up in... ...In the Gryffindor girls' dormitory. Grumbling to himself, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and half stumbled to the door, barefooted and wearing just sleep pants and a rather rumpled t-shirt. Laz opened the door, and blinked in confused wonder at the woman in front of him. She was carrying a breakfast tray. An honest-to-goodness silver tray with plates and drinks and... "What's the catch? $20 eggs or something, yeah?" -- “Um,” Laila wasn’t usually one at a loss for words, but there she was, staring at a ridiculously attractive bed-rumpled man, one who was even easier on the eyes now than he was when checking in travel-tired. Her brain finally caught up, though, and her eyes drifted ever so slightly down his body before snapping back up to his face. She had to plaster that customer service grin back on before continuing, for her own sake. “No added charge,” she was tempted to bring up the little board on a pushed away table in his room, that detailed out the breakfast options, but people always missed it. It was tucked away and small, and suddenly on her to-do list to improve. “Breakfast is included in your stay - we always offer an assortment the first day, and if you’d like something more specific for the rest of the mornings, you just have to ask.” Laila also knew what people liked, and she nodded towards the silver carafe on the tray with a smug little smile. “There’s hot coffee, too.” -- If he'd been more awake, and less dream-addled, Laz might have noticed- and even remarked on- the way that this woman's eyes traveled over him. Unfortunately (for him, anyway), he didn't seem to notice it. "That's, uh..." He was still trying to process everything that consciousness had brought, and it wasn't as easy as he wanted it to be. "Brilliant. Alright. Yeah." Stepping backward, one of the floorboards squeaked beneath his feet, making Laz do a little jump-step in response. He... only barely refrained from striking some sort of martial arts pose- though there was also the unspoken reaction that he had to reach for his wand. The fuck is going on with me? "Coffee. Definitely coffee." -- Laila did a double-take as she brought the tray into the room, sidestepping furniture and the attractive occupant to the best of her abilities. It was difficult to stay focused, because that accent could make her weak at her knees, but she managed as she strode forward to carefully place the tray down. From there on, usually she left and that was that. But he seemed more than a little twitchy, so Laila calmly poured him a cup of coffee and looked back at him over her shoulder. “Cream and sugar, none, one of the above..?” This was definitely at the point of over doing it. Oops. Laila overcompensated, rambling on, “We have tea, too, but I wasn’t sure if that was a stereotype and didn’t want to just assume, so I went with coffee, which is very, very good coffee, and not your typical hotel coffee. So.” -- Laz certainly hadn't expected her to stay or to offer to prepare the coffee for him, but given the... current instability he was otherwise feeling, it might have been a good idea. She was, if nothing else, certainly going to earn her five-star Yelp review. "Just a bit of each. Small bit. Enough to make it slightly less hateful, but still pretty bitter about the world in general." Because... describing the coffee as if it had a visceral reaction to anything else was... perfectly normal, obviously. The offer- however belatedly- of tea seemed to give him pause, and Laz raised an eyebrow. "Definitely a stereotype, but generally an accurate one. But if I've ever learned anything being stateside, I'll just stick with the coffee." -- “Bitter about the world, just like so many of us,” Laila quipped back, keeping that damn customer service grin on her face instead of pulling the one she wanted to. Which was nothing terribly bad, just more comical. It there was anything she’d learned over the years, it was that not everyone liked comedy, or a joke at every turn, and curbing that had been the most difficult part of this job. It hadn’t been as big of a deal until she took over and had a responsibility for happy customers. Laila did pull a little face at the cup off coffee before she turned back to face him, hot drink in hand, prepared the way he wanted. “I know we’ve got a reputation for weak tea,” She held the mug out to him, “but Pakistan doesn’t, and that’s where my supply comes from.” She didn’t flip her hair, even if she wanted to, and walked past him with a sly little grin. “Maybe keep an open mind one morning, Mr. Delacroix.” -- He'd taken the mug as it was offered, though the smart retort about tea and his judgement of her- or America's- preparation of it was... unexpected, perhaps. Laz watched, instead, as she strode past him, catching sight of her grin in a way that... god help him, it felt familiar. It felt annoying, too, but... almost comfortingly so. Laz pressed his eyes closed and took a sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes down even as he swallowed and replied, "I think perhaps I will, Miss Khan." -- Content that she’d at least said her piece, Laila’s smile grew a little as she reached the door. Her hand stayed on the doorknob, for just a second, and she glanced back at him before she could help it. She wasn’t usually one to flirt with customers, or quip at them, preferring to just bite her tongue and be done with it. But there was just something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. “Laila. You can just call me Laila.” She stalled a little at the door, opening it slowly even as she talked. “And if you need anything else…” Laila gestured to the phone near his bed, “I’m here to help.” And flirt with vague innuendo, apparently. Subtle, Laila. -- Laila. He'd seen the name at some point before, in his process of booking this place, but it was... different to hear her say it aloud. He repeated it, then, just to... help commit it to memory. He might as well, after all, if he was going to be here for a few weeks. "Laila. A pleasure." Though he didn't know what else he might… need help with, he had a feeling that this wouldn't be their last conversation. "Call me Laz." -- Laila was always one that enjoyed getting the last word or quip or joke in, and she started slipping out the door, grin on her face as she ducked back in. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Mr. Delacroix. That wouldn’t be very professional.” Her sister would’ve told her that she watched too many Lifetime movies, with a response like that. But cheese was one of Laila’s things, and she was all too happy to throw it in the direction of the hot british guy. She breezed on, leaving the door open slightly so he could close it himself. Or he could watch her walk away. His choice. The chipper Customer Service smile was back, regardless. “Enjoy your breakfast!” |