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Locke Hartley (phoenix__down) wrote in light_of_may,

Holy. Fucking. Hell. Was that even in English? At least he married a European at some point in one of his lifetimes, so Locke at least comprehended the fact that yes, this young girl wasn't just pulling random shit out of thin air to concoct a drink. That and he was a barista himself and knew that some pretentious people like that who came in and wanted things to be chop-chop! But the poor barista that just stared at the girl looked like she just wet herself and was ready to curl up in a corner and die. Better her than me... Oh geez, now she's coming over here and- LOVELY. She's standing next to me. Because just what Locke needed was some prissy spoiled brat to rain even more on his parade... but at least she was cute...? In your dreams, man. You haven't been upperclass in close to 100 years. You're WAY out of her league.

And she was intimidating... sort of... but awww, she was so cute and sweet when she smiled and- NO. BAD.

So of course Locke smiled back at her while she stood next to him. She didn't look that familiar. Hmm... maybe a new transfer student to the high school? Not like Locke was BFFs with all the teenagers, but maybe this one was an exception. Wishful thinking, of course. At the very least, Locke was going to be a gentleman, simply because it was in his nature and he was a longshot from being any typical, modern teenager. "I think you should get a prize for spitting that all out in record time," he joked about her drink order. "At least you know what you want out of life, right?"