Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

shepard. commander shepard. (skyllianblitz) wrote in silverage,

Chuck seemed like a sour sort of guy - although suddenly being snowed in would make anyone sour, so maybe this was just a blip on the radar for him. She'd been getting the occasional dark glare from him all afternoon, so she didn't think much of another one. But when someone walked over to her table and spoke to her, she glanced up. People hadn't exactly been lining up to talk to her; they seemed put off by her dress or her mannerisms.

The person addressing her was a young man, blond, who looked like he'd just recently come in from the snow. Shepard shook her head and smiled; "No, I'm not waiting for anybody. Pull up some bench." She even patted the table, with that open handed, comfortable and companionable. "And space is at a premium, so if you're a paying customer, you certainly deserve it," she shrugged. He probably had more right to the booth than she did; so even if she'd been inclined to sulk and be anti-social about her predicament (well, predicaments, if she counted them), she ought by rights to have been the one standing and sipping her coffee.

And Shepard wasn't particularly inclined to sulk, when there was something she might actually do to fix the problem – or, at the bare minimum, something productive she could do to distract herself. Which was where the shoveling had come from, in part, and probably why she'd stuck with it instead of sitting around navel gazing or wandering around the freezing city. Well, that, and it was freezing.