Presley (sanguinates) wrote in repose, @ 2020-02-01 00:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, atticus mcvickers, hazel hawthorne |
Thread: Hazel and Atticus.
Who: Hazel Hawthorne and Atticus McVickers.
What: She sneaks out. Again.
Where: The Diner.
When: Late, around midnight.
Warnings/Rating: None at the moment.
Of course the place was near empty, except for a waitress in yellow named Mabel, her frilled apron carrying faded brown stains from splatters of coffee over the years and the brown box dye in her hair had begun to give way to grey roots. She was gruff, and was clearly put out when Hazel walked in. She had been enjoying a riveting round of Candy Crush when the bell rang and her middle aged eyes squinted up from the the small screen to eye the girl with the long brown hair, over coat and wind flushed cheeks. Mabel was sharp and short when she asked Hazel what she wanted. Mabel didn't want conversation. She wanted to get her job done and get back to her game. Hazel immediately liked her for that, and reminded herself to leave the plump woman a good tip. Her order was simple: coffee, black. That seemed to appease Mabel, it was easy enough and when she returned she set it down with care instead of a plop. "Thanks, Mabel." The waitress grunted in return moving back to her spot near the end of the dinner, her squat hand searching pockets for her phone. Hazel brought the coffee to her lips but didn't sip, she simply let the steam billow up, bringing the bitter roasted scent to her nose while the cheap porcelain warmed wintered hands. She'd forgotten gloves in her hurry, and her ears still burned from lakeside chill. Coffee was the worst. She hated it in all honesty. Hot bean water, but it felt weird to sit in a diner without ordering anything, and she wasn't hungry. She was ... very full, so to speak. Thanks to Frederick, and perhaps, just perhaps she had taken a bit too much, because she had left him in deep sleep on the floor of the foyer. Enough, she hoped he'd be out until morning, enough she hoped that she could have a few hours of freedom that only an Uber and an empty old diner could apparently give. The music overhead finally gave way to lyrics, twangy and hopeful. You hold tight to your umbrella, well, darlin', I'm just tryin' to tell ya..that there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head. "Like fuck there is." Hazel scoffed then took a sip of the damn bean water. |