Lore Paune (ispaune) wrote in fableless, @ 2017-05-08 17:09:00 |
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She should have known there would be bad news to be had when it started raining in the middle of her bike to Deja Brew. Samantha Cross always had a flair for the theatrics. So when Michelle Watney entered Deja Brew, it was with wet hair, clothes that were starting to soak through, and a dour way about her. Indignantly clutching the strap of her messenger bag to her chest, she straightened herself and went to queue as if nothing was amiss. As if her tightly-coiled bun wasn’t dripping water, or her button up blouse wasn’t sticking to her skin. Lore had made it into the coffee shop before the pour of rain. His long hair tied back in a low ponytail to keep it out of his face and dark clothes that spoke of a person use to colder weather than what the small town had to offer. Waiting as the lady in front of him ordered a ridiculously complicated drink, Lore rolled his eyes. “It’s coffee, not a fucking wedding cake,” he grumbled to himself. The entire town was putting him on edge, it would be just another place with more people to pretend to like him. When the bell on the door rang and a waterlogged woman stepped in, Lore had all the intention of ignoring it as she was making certain to do, but there was something the kept his eyes on her instead. There was something familiar but not. “Want to go ahead of me? You look like you need it more and might even be dry before that lady finishes her order.” There were a myriad of things resting on the tip of her tongue. A clipped, ‘no.’ A sound, ‘it’s fine.’ She could have chose to answer by shaking her head, or by taking his offer wordlessly. Instead, her mouth opened to speak and she found herself caught taut in the moment between what she had wanted to say and the immediate future. The scent of her favorite coffee-- of papers fresh off the printer, of her favorite lavender scented candle, of Richard overwhelmed her, and suddenly she saw the appeal in autoerotic asphyxiation, for if she were to choke on the sudden feeling of good, she would pass happily. Finally, “I--” Her voice cracked, like a dusty chest that had been hidden away in an attic. “No. No, that’s not necessary.” Her nails dug into the strap of her bag. Lore smiled. “Are you sure?” Michelle nodded. The lady finally moved out of the way with a huff about the shop being out of some soy- nut- substitute thing. Lore moved up to the register, the lady behind the counter immediately going from a sour mood to a far more happier, wistful one as she waited for Lore to order. “I’ll just have a normal coffee with some sugar.” Turning back toward Michelle, he nodded to her. “And anything the librarian here wants.” The pout of the barista came quickly but was replaced by a smile of someone in customer service. “Sure thing,” she answered. Lore stepped aside so Michelle could order, and so he could get a better look at her. What was it that was familiar? “Oh!” the girl behind the counter sounded with recognition. “Yeah, Miss Watney, hi. Your usual, right?” Michelle cleared her throat as she wrangled with the clusterfuck of emotion starting to wage war inside of her. She hadn’t even moved to correct him, as tongue-in-cheek as his mislabeling her profession had been. “Right. The two bags and the usual. Thank you, Tanya.” Michelle allowed herself to steal another glance at the cliched ‘familiar stranger,’ her mouth twitching as if it didn’t know whether to scowl or smile. Her chest swelled with the things she suddenly found herself longing for. She wanted him to trust her. To like her. She could pluck any line that Alan had once drafted and could have it apply-- if she were the Earth, he was the glorious Sun. Michelle exhaled, slowly. Though she was unknowingly being lured by his pheromones, she still retained her personality. “Perhaps you oughtn’t offer to pay for someone before you know what they intend to get,” was her coy piece of advice as her cup of her preferred brew (black) and her two bags of grounds alone came out to $23.16. Handing cash over to pay for both her load and his simple coffee, Lore pushed back a stray hair. “Sometimes it is worth it to make a lousy situation better.” He pointed out the windows at the rain, giving her the benefit of not pointing out the obviousness of her dripping hair. Lore knew the limitations of his pheromones, hated that they were there to begin with, but appreciated that she was still pointing out the flaw in his plan. “Thank you, Tanya.” He scoffed at himself and walked to the end of the counter to wait for his coffee. The lady that had been in front of him was arguing with one of the baristas. Lore plucked his phone from his pocket and simply leaned against the counter beside her- distracting her tirade and pulling a comment of ‘does it smell like blueberries?’ Lore just wanted his drink, expected nothing from Miss Watney, but his doe brown eyes glanced toward her from behind his phone. Michelle sent an appraising look and a nod of appreciation at Tanya before her long legs also carried her off to the side, where she appeared to be waving someone down. She returned minutes later wearing a raincoat that was much, much too big for her thin frame, tall as she was. In the minutes she had been away she had collected herself, but no fortification, it seemed, would be enough. As she walked back to the counter, she found the pace of her heart quickening and her eyes wanting to steal glance after glance at the man who had bought her weekly routine. It was enough to lead her into biting her lower lip, a nasty habit that she had thought she had long since gotten rid of. The barista called Lore’s name, putting two drinks and two bags of coffee on the counter. Lore grabbed his coffee and let his gaze firmly set on Michelle. The sight of the raincoat drowning her more than the rain that fell from the skies made him burst out laughing. “Do you have a life raft under there? Where did you get that from?” Lore could not help his mouth, it was a reactionary thing given his life circumstances. A person of lesser self-discipline and composure might have crumbled. And granted, it was hard. The force of power it took to lift her half-lidded eyes from his mouth to his eyes was unspeakably difficult, and there was no concealing the way her teeth grazed her lower lip, only to be salved by her tongue. She grabbed her order without looking, both coffee bags sliding effortlessly into her messenger bag. But she was Michelle Watney: she prided herself in showing restraint. She had self-control to spare. “I am borrowing it from the owner. Don’t be--” Another reminder to straighten her wandering eyes, “-- ridiculous. Of course I haven’t a…” She cleared her throat, rounding her shoulders as she stood a little straighter. “I appreciate your…” she gestured to the hot cup of coffee she held in her left hand. “Wait.” Every time she bit on her lip, his own eyes were drawn there. “I’m Lore Paune. Would you join me? Wait for the rain to be over? Unless you’re in a hurry.” Something was drawing him in, beyond her beautiful eyes and teasing lips. He knew better. He knew that he knew better. She was only allowing him to talk because of his stupid power, but he needed to know why she was familiar. “And, trust me, this isn’t a pick up line- which I know is the wrong thing to start the conversation with- but do I know you from somewhere?” Michelle took a moment to angle her wrist, her eyes looking at the face of her practical, well-loved wrist watch. There was a lot to be said-- to digest. She wanted to stay. She wanted to find shelter from the rain that was coming down outside. She wanted to sidle up to him, to twirl his hair between her fingers and just listen. But she was running late for work, and on this day, that would not abide. “Ah… Your name sounds familiar. We may have spoken on the network the day before. I’m Michelle,” she paused, waiting to see if that would strike any familiar chords with him. He nodded to the explanation. She inhaled, the intake of wind sending her heart into another flutter as well-loved smells enveloped her tightly, only to be wrung by the cruel knowledge that, no. She could not stay. “I need to be getting to work, actually.” Her eyes darted towards the door, and subsequently, her bike. “Ah.” Lore looked down at his coffee. “Hopefully it’s easier business than what we had talked about.” Stepping back, he turned to one of the closest tables. Her familiarity was not one that would have been sparked because of talking to her online. No, he was not about to sit back quietly and let her run off without that explained. “There’s something else… Another spark. When you have more time.” Lore grinned. “Or you could skip work.” The infatuation that Michelle felt was replaced very suddenly with vexation, though her heart pounded harder still. Maybe she didn’t need coffee after all. “Absolutely not.” She shifted beneath the massive coat and took a couple of steps towards the exit. She walked backwards, unable to yet peel her eyes off of him. “Enjoy your day,” she offered him the pleasantry she offered to so few as she finally forced herself to turn, the chime on the door of Deja Brew punctuating her exit. The reaction made his grin fall, a realization coming over Lore. In a Tale town, there were more than the normal explanations for such feelings of familiarity. “Yeah… Sorry about that.” He was unsure what he was sorry about. If she was part of his Tale, there were a million different people she could be. Holding his coffee tight, he looked over at Tanya before back at the door. “I need to get home,” he said more to himself and left the coffee shop after her. Watching her, he turned the opposite way her bike was turned. The Robin Hood Talemates were likely good people- mostly- but he did not need strange infatuations from people who could remember that time. She was cute though, he thought to himself, holding his coffee cup close and heading into the rain without a care to getting wet. |