Grayson (hairtriggermood) wrote in sevendevilslog, @ 2020-06-01 16:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | † grayson wilder, † tomás alvarez |
Log: Grayson & Tomás
Who: Grayson Wilder & Tomás Alvarez w/mentions of Lincoln Foster
What: New faces always get attention
When: 28th May [Backdated]
Where: Fondante’s Inferno
Ratings/Warnings: Low | Swearing
Status: Log | Complete
If somebody had told Grayson that in a couple years time he’d be as far from New York city as was physically possible with as little cash as he actually had to his name he would have called them a liar or at least somebody who liked bullshitting other people.
And yet here he was.
In North Carolina, the Blue Ridge Mountains, in a town called Seven Devils of all places. Some might take one look at the name and nope the hell out of there but Grayson wasn’t some people, he was the sort of person who would take one look at what looked to be a bad idea and go for it anyways because what was self preservation when it was at home?
Besides, it wasn’t like he could go back home, not after what had happened and this place had a draw about it which had him wandering into it. Thankfully he did have enough cash to stop off at what he could only assume was the local coffee shop though admittedly the moment he stepped through was round about the moment he figured it was too “hipster” for him.
Still, he needed coffee and something to eat, so… suck it up, Grayson.
He joined the line or what he assumed was the line but it was hard to tell considering it wasn’t really moving and with a lean to the right it was clearly thanks to the tall redhead who was apparently chatting up a storm with the girl behind the counter.
“Fucking wonderful,” he groused underneath his breath.
Tomás had slowly been settling into Seven Devils. He’d at least gotten a job and the hours weren’t too bad, plus he got to be surrounded by books all day and leaf through them whenever he wanted. Working in a bookshop didn’t require too much from him mentally, which was kind of the break he needed for a little while, at least.
Though coffee was what he was looking for right now. The guy in front of him leaned to the side and then grumbled something and Tomás did the same, just to see what the hold up was.
“You get used to it,” he offered after a moment, to the back of the grumbling guy’s head, light Portuguese lilt wrapping around his words.. “Generally I try and get here before she does. The mating dance of the heterosexuals is not what I wanna see right after lunch.”
Grayson had since becoming a werewolf noticed that as far as his senses went? They were insanely changed beyond all recognition from before. He smelt, heard, and saw things that he never thought imaginable, which made the fact somebody had come up behind him without so much as a hair being moved out of place all the more surprising.
“Didn’t think you got paid for flirting,” he answered in a further rumble of complaint. Admittedly the use of “heterosexuals” was an interesting turn of phase though if Grayson was going to be a small minded asshole (because some people were) then maybe one look at the brunette should have told him everything.
Not that it was a bad thing, Grayson wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of traditional after all.
“How long does it normally last?”
Tomás snorted. “You wouldn’t think so, but there are at least three of the servers who take great pleasure in flirting with the customers. Only this one’s actually invested in trying to make it work. Or get free coffee regularly. You never really can tell.”
He leaned to the side again and tipped his head, watching the way the red-head had a hand on the counter, long and lanky posture indicating he was relaxed and no, Tomás definitely didn’t take a moment to savour how his jacket was sitting on his shoulders. Nope.
“Usually as long as it takes for one of the other baristas to get frustrated and tell them to knock it off.”
“And I suppose it wouldn’t be smart for a customer to tell them to knock it off?” Grayson ventured as he rubbed at the back of his neck, fidgety. “I mean I don’t want anybody’s saliva in my coffee is all I’m saying.” Or something else, but he figured he’d keep it PG-13 in such a public place.
He reached up to adjust the strap of his bag which held all his worldly possessions which were so meagre it was definitely embarrassing.
“Also I’m new here so probably a shitty first impression.”
Tomás chuckled. “Don’t know if this is the place where someone is going to spit in your coffee,” he answered sincerely, “seems like one of those quaint, but weird, kind of towns, you know? Most people have been nice and I’ve only been here for a few weeks.”
He unconsciously mimicked the other man’s movement, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the black silk of his gloves against his skin. His other hand slipped into his pocket.
“I’m guessing you are fresh off the bus?” he asked, without any judgement in his voice. After all, he’d done the same thing not that long ago.
Sharp blue eyes ticked from the other man’s face to the black gloves he was wearing, the smallest of frowns catching at his brow. It definitely wasn’t cold enough for gloves so why the gloves?
“I’m from New York and they’re definitely the types to do that.”
At the mention of being fresh off the bus he unconsciously shifted into a slightly more defensive posture despite the lack of judgment from the other guy. “Uh, yeah. Just got here.”
Tomás’ eyebrows lifted. “New York? You’re a long way from home, meu amigo,” he said with a low whistle. He didn’t want to think about how long the Greyhound trip had been. That was assuming he’d come on a Greyhound and hadn’t driven himself. He had that air of independence around him.
Though, not wanting to ask too many questions right off the bat, and noting that the guy looked uncomfortable, Tomás held out his hand. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Seven Devils then,” he said. “I’m Tomás.”
“Yeah, that was kind of the point,” Grayson let slip before he clamped down as Jesus had he really been that out of human contact that he’d forgotten how to keep his thoughts to himself?
He regarded the hand suspiciously before he cleared his throat and took a hold of the smaller hand in his own rough and much larger one. Grip firm and definitely strong, stronger than it had been before he’d been bitten.
“Grayson.”
“No one moves all the way out here without having a past they want to run from, amigo,” Tomás agreed, returning the handshake though not quite as firmly. He slipped his fingers into the pockets of his jeans as it ended and lifted his shoulders. “I’ve found most people here don’t pry all that much.” Except for a bubbly few. So far he’d managed to steer clear of them.
He’d felt the way the callouses on Grayson’s hands had caught on the edges of his glove, wondered what kind of life he’d lived before. But Grayson seemed like a highly private person and Tomás knew what it was like to have your desire for privacy disrespected.
“Nice to meet you, Grayson. I hope you find what you’re looking for here.”
That was definitely one way of putting it. Grayson’s past was… complicated to say the least, not helped by the fact that apparently werewolves were actually a thing and he was now one of them, apparently.
Seriously, could life get any weirder?
Well of course now that he’d thought it then that was probably what was going to happen.
“Thanks, Tomás. I uh, hope so too.” Not that he knew what he was looking for aside from as much distance between him and New York. Done and done. He was about to say something else when it was clear the redhead was leaving. Fucking finally.
It would seem that the redhead at least had some awareness of how long he’d been the cause of the hold up if the apologetic smile and rubbing of his hair was any indication. Grayson didn’t afford him the luxury of returning the gesture in any shape or form, he wasn’t exactly known for his social skills.
“Think the line’ll start moving now?”
“Probably a little quicker than usual,” Tomás said with a little grin, adjusting his gloves and stuffing his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. “By the way,” he said, taking a step forward as Grayson did, but keeping a respectful distance, “the grilled cheese here is really great.”
The respect for his space was appreciated as Grayson unconsciously bristled whenever somebody got too close. Grilled cheese was a good staple, it was also not too expensive or at least that’s what Grayson could pick out from the menu.
“I’ll give it a shot, thanks,” he continued moving up the line as it started to dwindle far more rapidly than it had with the redhead at the front of it. Grayson was served after two more people and he put in a simple enough order for a black coffee and a grilled cheese.
He turned his head to give Tomás a parting nod. “Nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Tomás said with a little grin, watching as Grayson moved away from the queue to collect his coffee on the other side of the bar. Of course, he’d been distracted so hadn’t thought about what he wanted.
Oh well, Tomás supposed it was just his turn to hold up the line.