log: adrian and ren
Ren took the tea mug and considered it. He had no idea how strong the tea was at this point and the mug was mostly full so he couldn't just add warm water to it and start again. He made the snap decision to just start fresh. A bag of tea and a paper cup wasn't going to break the business. He sat the cold mug to the side and reached for another peppermint bag, starting it fresh over the side of the paper cup.
The book question was easier than the change of pace question. He supposed this was the point where he could make up a ridiculous story about his past, although he suspected the truth would be just as fantastic as anything he could make up. After all, most people would be unlikely to believe who he was, or what he could do, or what his family was like. Those things weren't average, and even in Repose, which was the least average tiny town Ren had ever spent time in, he figured they'd qualify as different.
"Better question might be authors I didn't know," Ren shrugged. "Not that I know them all, although I'm getting to know a few names I didn't know before just from working here. I like a little bit of everything - it depends on my mood. I read a lot of British literature when I was going through school, obviously. But I've read a fair amount of American too. I like science fiction and high fantasy sometimes, and classic horror when I'm in the mood. Can't say I've read a lot of romance, outside of some of those classics that count for it, but I've read some. Probably I've dipped into almost every genre there is at least once, but if I'm just picking up for the heck of it history maybe - fiction or nonfiction - and plays, philosophy. I've got plenty of time to read these days."
The light was beeping, which meant the water would be heated up soon, but there was still a moment, so Ren pulled out the portafilters and dumped them in the small metal sink. How to even tell his story as a story? "People expect things of you, sometimes you expect things of yourself, so you need to get away from where they are, and what you're expected to do..." everyone had expectations of him. His parents, his Uncle, the public at large, and then there were his own expectations for himself - be his Grandfather, be better than his Grandfather. Win a Tony or an Oscar, or other things that felt like an impossibility right now.
Ren bunched up the rag and tossed it at the sink, then leaned forward, hands on the edge of the counter as he leaned forward to look across at Adrian. "Sometimes you just have to figure out who you are, on your own, without a dozen possibilities hanging over you. This place doesn't have possibility, it just is. That sounds terrible, I know, but I think that's what pulled me out here. I didn't want people looking over my shoulder, or saying 'ah, you're so and so', and whatever thing came with that. What's the path I really want to take? That's what I need to settle on, so this is my place to do that. It's a waystop, not a permanent thing. Probably, anyway. Not that there's anything that bad with this. I keep getting to recommend books to people, and that's all right. I like that."