|thefaun (thefaun) wrote in olympic_threads,|
@ 2011-06-24 10:54:00
|Entry tags:||helen, pan|
It's just boiled beans
Who: Pan, open to anyone
What: Morning coffee
When: Friday, June 24th
Where: The Coffee Bean
Warnings: Language, sexual humor and more are sure to come
Mornings were never Pan's strong point, it was not that he hated them, he just was not quite functioning yet and he was hard enough to understand when he was awake and functioning at his best. He was just not in the best of moods from the start, because the weather in Southern California had finally warmed up and there were, at long last, girls on the beach. Aaron, as Pan had been going by for the past decade or so, really loved the girls on the beach. He loved to sit and watch them from the battered old van he lived in. He loved to cat call at them and try to chat them up, rarely with much success, but those few moments of success made it all worth it. He was very, very upset that he had to leave the girls at the beach in order to get coffee.
And people in the coffee shop were taking forever.
"Can we hurry it up, please?" Aaron called, rising onto his toes, not that he needed to, his gangly body left him heads if not heads and shoulders over most everyone else in the crowd. "It's just coffee, boiled beans. You don't have to make an event of it!" A few of the baristas snickered, agreeing with his words, even if they did think it was a little rude. It was just how people were before coffee, no one worked in a place like this too long without expecting the worst out of the morning crowd. Flocks of humanity forced close together, made to wait for the sanity-giving mix of coffee, sugar and dairy. It really was a wonder that more beatings, riots and deaths did not occur in coffee shops. Or maybe they do, and the government just covers it up! The thought occurred to Pan, causing a wry grin to curl his lips.
A patron in line ahead of Aaron shouted at him to shut up, which only gave the loud man more delight. His eyebrows, which were almost too thick to be believable, shot upward, his head wagged from side to side as he pursed and wiggled his lips, mocking the man in a very animated way. The man sneered and turned to face the front of the line again, at which point Aaron took the liberty of gesturing at him with one, long, expressive finger. It was a good start to the day, he decided. Blowing out a long sigh of air, letting his lips vibrate loudly against each other, he rocked his hips forward and tangled his long fingers in the back of his curly hair. He really hated lines.