Clark Kent (kryptonslast) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-04-23 20:16:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | gambit, rogue |
Who: Rene and Hayley
What: LOL they recognize each other
Where: Outside Reliquary
When: Right as the storm starts
Warnings: A. for Awkward
It felt strange, taking a lunch break. It made Hayley feel like she was back in high school, of all things. She had an alarm on her phone to remind her when she had to leave Reliquary to give herself enough time to return to Monarch Industries, and enough cash in her wallet for what she wanted. It was a routine, meeting Evie for lunch there. Though Hayley didn’t know the owner well, she had to respect a man that was willing to watch a rambunctious child and Georgie at the same time.
With the shop in sight, she slowed slightly, feeling better now that she could see her destination. Hayley wasn’t sure why she instinctively slowed down when she saw wherever she was walking to - it was an old habit, something that would probably reveal a great deal of personal insight if she ever bothered with that nonsense. As it stood, she simply acted without thinking, her steps leisurely as she approached the shop. Gloved hands in her pockets, she glanced absently skyward. The weather had been looking grim all day, but suddenly she began to fear it would rain. The clouds were growing an ugly black color, and she picked up her pace just slightly.
Just as she started to move quickly, the sky shattered. It didn’t start with a drizzle - it poured. There was very little warning, just a few stray raindrops, before the downpour started. She threw her hands over her head, knowing they would offer no protection, as she began to run. Her black boots thudded over the sidewalk, the sound almost drowned out by the rain. Though her run only lasted a few seconds, she was utterly soaked by its end.
By the time she reached the eaves outside Reliquary, her hair was matted to her face and neck, her jacket and pants almost completely soaked through. Her scarf clung to her neck uncomfortably, and touching anything with wet gloves made her skin crawl. Breathing heavily, she pushed her hair out of her face, taking a few seconds to compose herself outside the shop. The chill of the rain seeping through her clothing made her shiver, closing her eyes as she leaned back against the front of the store and rested a hand against her forehead.
Though rain itself was horrible, she found herself oddly appreciative of the smell of rainy air. It was damp and moist, earthy and rich. Mingled with the smell of brewing coffee, it was the slightest bit of Heaven. But after a few breaths, something else tickled her nose. Something far less pleasant. Wrinkling her nose, she dropped her hand, looking over at a figure she hadn’t noticed in her mad scramble for the eaves. She peeled away slightly from the store front, running a wet hand over her face and hair.
Just as she was about to offer an awkward greeting, Hayley froze. Those eyes. She knew those eyes. Eyes narrowing, she stared at him a moment before it clicked. Her green eyes widened, the memories flooding back. Rooms packed with low murmurs and cigarette smoke, a circular table with a poker game she had interrupted. And those eyes, peering up over a soon-to-be revealed royal flush. “Boudreaux?” she whispered, expression shellshocked. Her face paled, heart pounding in her chest. What was Rene Boudreaux doing in Seattle? The explanation had to be very, very bad.