ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ (arcane) wrote in summerview, @ 2018-12-18 19:01:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | zemma clarke, zjames byrne |
built a king on compliments
Who: James & Emma
What: New girl gets some friendly advice from a stranger
When: Monday night, perhaps
Where: The diner
Rating: Low
Status: Complete
The truth was, everytime Emma walked into Vale Diner, she felt frustrated with herself. When she'd finally managed to break away from her hometown, she'd had fantasies of finding herself a better job than slaving away as a waitress once again. She'd thought maybe she'd get a job she actually felt proud of or something that at least paid better. It paid enough that she could get by, but she was kind of sick of just getting by if she was honest. She was sick of a lot of things, but also completely overwhelmed by the new changes that had been forced on her recently. The new smells, the new impulses (of which she had definitely not needed more), the new transformations. Usually people had at least tried to hide their staring back in her hometown when she walked by, but even as she'd waited for the bus out of that small town, she'd felt people's eyes on her. She supposed it was something she should expect after her angry outbursts had escalated on an exponential scale. It was definitely one thing to be finally leaving on her own accord but another thing entirely to leave because she felt like she was a danger to everyone around her, Katie included. And so with the shame of stigma still clinging to her even as she'd left and many hours of bus exhaust having drove her nuts before taking a ferry out to the island, Emma had caved once she saw the diner. She'd craved the familiar even if it brought back old memories and old habits she'd like to forget about. So far things had been going fine, though. She was only a month in but she'd managed to make it on time for her shifts and the menu was more or less the same than she was used to. The tips were good and she'd managed not to explode at anyone yet, although there'd been a few times when she'd had to focus on her breathing pretty hard not to. The people in Summerview weren't so bad as customers but her irritation was at all time high and sometimes it seemed like any little thing could set her off into feeling like she could bite someone's head off. Maybe literally. But work was something to throw herself into so she didn't have to think about the next full moon and for that she was grateful. After topping off someone’s coffee and putting in a few orders, she made her way over to sitting by himself in a booth who had just come in. He looked young and handsome but she wasn’t entirely sure if he was her type or not. Her type was usually more...unpolished. Not that she was trying to check him out, it just sort of happened. She didn’t give any indication of where her thoughts were, though, as she approached, looking for all the world like a tired, bored waitress, which she was. “Do you know what you wanna order?” Sometimes, James was shit at taking care of himself - it was a fact. Not in the sense that he'd forget to shower, or he'd let his beard scare children (no, the scruff was always groomed in a tactical sort of way). But more like eating actual meals fell by the wayside - he'd work so much he'd forget he was hungry, and the idea of 'sustenance' would always get pitched to the back burner and left until boiling over. Until his stomach felt like gnashing gears, the pangs too intense to ignore - and, oh, right. He should eat something. That was why he'd swept into the diner. He wore jeans and a leather jacket, electric blues scanning the menu to consider the specials while making guesses about what the questionable stains were that permeated the plastic laminate. Then the waitress approached, and he glanced up, noticing how pretty she was - despite the obvious fatigue. Well then. Her tone suggested she was bored as all get out or she would hang him upside down from a tree, slice him open, and let the blood drain into her salt-rimmed margarita glass. How intriguing. "I'd ask what you recommend, love, but you probably get that question a lot?" he replied, offering an eye-crinkling smile. "I’ll just take a coffee for now. And I look forward to seeing you again so soon.” Maybe he’d just order a thousand different things to get her coming back to his table - but that would be downright rascally of him, and probably annoying. Emma did her best to look decent when she went to work. She did her hair, her makeup, tried to wear something cute that was still comfortable enough to be on her feet and sweaty for an entire shift. She liked looking nice, more for herself than anyone else. But if there was one thing she didn't feel like she was when she was working it was pretty. She was at least halfway through her shift and her ponytail had started to sag, her make up wasn't as fresh, and she could feel her face sagging in that way that would tell anyone right away that she had been running around like a maniac for the past few hours. She'd been hit on before while she was working but it was more in a sleazy, ass pinching sort of way than anything else. The few nicer ones that were in there just weren't her type. Nice just wasn't her type in general. She didn't really trust nice, to be honest. She just always assumed there was some sort of catch to it, that it couldn't last forever so why bother getting attached to it at all? Blunt and sleazy were more reliable, at least. And so instead of hitting him with a cheery smile in response to his kind words, something one of her coworkers probably would have done, she narrowed her eyes at him a little as if he'd said something sketchy. Her eyes gave him a sharp once over, not at all in any kind of way that she was checking him out for pleasure but rather like she was trying to decide if he was going to try to pull some crap or not. If he was someone she'd have to keep tabs on. "I'm new so I haven't tried everything on the menu yet. But the eggs are usually good.” “Aye, I haven’t seen you before,” James concurred - he wasn’t quite on the level of regular customer at the diner, but he’d come in a few times in the past. “I’d remember your face, lovely as it is. But welcome to town, then. Is it everything you hoped it’d be?” He remembered when he moved here from overseas, coming from the Motherland. Escaping, more like, putting distance between himself and the ever-present gloom and grey skies, the temptations to continue to be miserable because it was oddly comfortable. Giving up things like Pooh Bear ice cream and the chocolate milk of beers, Guinness (sure, they had it here but it wasn’t the same experience). It seemed like such an odd thing, having to understand why the Yanks were so obsessed with assault rifles and pumpkin spice. “I’m James, by the way,” he introduced himself. The brogue was pretty telltale - he never tried to hide his accent, or blend in, so it was probably obvious he was foreign. To his credit, he didn't even seem to bat an eyelash at Emma's scathing look and he didn't seem to want to pump the brakes on the flirting either. She did respect him for that much, at least. Was Summerview everything she hoped it would be? No one had asked her that thus far and she paused a moment to consider her answer, her eyes still heavy on him but not quite as annoyed. "I guess it's alright." It wasn't much of an answer, but the real answer was sort of complicated. She didn't know that he wanted her to get into her life's story over a simple diner encounter, nor was she sure that she wanted to either. "It's...better than where I was before." There, that was something to admit to at least, however he wanted to take it. Now that she had been standing there for a minute, she started paying a little more attention to the smell of him. There were so many people in the diner mingling with the smell of food that her untrained nose didn't always pick up on quite everything right off the bat. She knew enough to know, though, that he didn't smell human, which did pique her interest. Summerview was chock full of supernaturals but she had only approached a few of them so far without the pretense of taking their order. She wasn't naturally social and she didn't really know how to casually bring up the fact that she didn't really know anything about the world she'd just been forced into. Seemed like a good idea to get some advice, even if he wasn't a wolf, which she had a feeling he wasn't. "I'm Emma. I'm still kind of...figuring things out." She hated how stupidly vague that was but it was the best she had. She wasn't smooth with her words and she could only hope in a place like this maybe he would pick up on the vibe she was trying to send out somehow. Hm, alright. The bit of a charming smile he had tacked to the cactus bristle of his jaw faded into something more thoughtful. He ran a thumb over the scruff, an idle sort of gesture. “A pleasure, Emma,” he drawled, studying her - and while he wasn’t a mind reader, body language conveyed a lot. There was a weight upon her shoulders, a heaviness that differed from simply being bored or tired at work. James got the picture - she was probably here alone, had come for a specific purpose like he did, and was still trying to find her footing. It wasn’t like there was an official welcoming committee, after all, but the roguish chef with the sapphire stare who also lived alone and tended to drink his dinner on most occasions would do his best. “Need some tips about the town?” he inquired casually, gesturing to the seat across from him. “If you’re due for a break soon, perhaps you can join me.” Under normal circumstances, Emma might have brushed him off. He was still doing that charming thing that seemed to just be part of his personality that she didn't quite trust but she also knew that she wasn't really in a spot to be picky about who she got advice from. She could use some help, wherever it came from. At his invitation, she sighed made a cursory glance around the room to see if anyone was paying attention. She didn't feel eyes on her and her boss didn't seem like that much of a hardass. And most of all, she was due for a break so she found herself taking the seat that he'd gestured at. She could really use a cigarette but the establishment she worked for would certainly frown up on it so she settled for just sitting back in her seat and planning on getting herself some coffee soon. "So how long have you been here?" Of course, she had noticed the accent and that he obviously hadn't been born in this country. “About a year,” James replied, lifting oceanic eyes from where he’d been studying the menu - but he knew what was on it, the staples in most diners. Cheeseburgers, milkshakes, probably a jukebox with a fucking coin slot somewhere. His fingers tapped upon the plastic surface, now closed; he devoted all his attention to the pretty brunette. “I came here from Belfast, mainly. Looking for clues about my family history.” He uncurled his fingers, palm up. And then a rose for the lady formed, one made of fire - it had the shape of the flower, however, just was a different color. Red, orange, yellow - a welcoming warmth, but with the snarl and bite of an actual flames. He let it extinguish a moment later, wisps of smoke escaping and fading away. “I’m a witch,” was his further explanation. “What about you?” Emma hadn’t really known what to expect when she asked how long he’d been there. Not all his life, obviously, but did supernaturals often stay here a while? Was it safe for that? This was a question she had wondered a lot and was hoping the answer was yes because it was one of the main reasons she had moved. She didn’t think people, especially ordinary humans, were safe around her where she had used to live. A quiet gasp escaped her lips and her eyes widened at the sight of the fire rose. She definitely hadn’t been expecting any demonstrations and she couldn’t help glancing around quickly to see if anyone had seen. It was a habit from living in a place where she’d been desperate to keep her secret under wraps. She didn’t know what the protocol was here, though. Were people just used to supernaturals or did they have to play secrets here too? Also, what happened if they didn’t? Was there some sort of supernatural police that was going to come around? Emma felt clueless about almost everything. “Werewolf. New werewolf. Like, only a few months. My ex turned me accidentally and then took off.” There was a definite note of bitterness in her voice as she spoke about her “ex”, hardly even that as they’d dated a very short period of time. “It’s alright, everyone here has got some sort of talent,” James assured, noticing her figurative clutched pearls about his demonstration - but that was why he’d done it. To show her that it was a lot more free in their happy little home. That was one thing it had going for it, boredom aside. “Humans can’t even see this island - at least, not the mundane ones. There are some with other abilities. Shooting lasers from their eyes or moving things with their mind or whatever, I suppose it varies.” Talents, like he said. “There’s a barrier around the island too. It’s maintained by magic and is magic. It’s just meant to keep humans out and protect the residents, not like you’re trapped here though, you can go to and fro - Atlantic City is quite the fun experience,” he chuckled. “But, aye, a werewolf...” Interesting. He hadn’t really sat down and conversed with any though they got all types at his place of employment. “Your ex sounds like a shitstain, my condolences.” Emma was relieved to hear that she didn’t have to worry as much about any accidental displays of abilities. Well, James’ hadn’t even been accidental but for Emma they would be. Mostly an angry outburst, which is what had gotten her in trouble where she was from. She was sure her boss and the people around her wouldn’t appreciate it but at least they might have some idea of how to deal with it. Whereas at home, they would have been completely defenseless. The added layer of protection was a major bonus too obvious. She visibly relaxed a little in her seat knowing for certain for the first time that she’d made the right decision in coming here. Maybe it had been painful to rip herself away from her old life, but there were clear benefits to immersing herself in the supernatural community. She made a face when he brought up her ex although she knew what he didn’t — that almost all of the men she slept with were shitstains. Admittedly, though, this guy was particularly a dick for turning into a werewolf. “So what other kinds of...people are here?” She still couldn’t quite bring herself to say “species”. Oh, that expression was priceless - the one when the topic of conversation briefly turned to the codswallop of an ex. If looks could kill, she’d have a pile of bones and organs at her feet. James wouldn’t linger on it though. Obviously, it was sensitive - given that the fucker turned Emma into a werewolf and then made himself scarce. “All kinds,” he said, arm extended across the back of the booth, his stance casual. “Vampires too, though you’d be able to sense them quick enough. I’m told there’s always been a bit of a rivalry there, but it’s ancient.” So likely no one gave a shit anymore. “Also unicorns and a few centaurs, I think. Gargoyles, and creatures from the sea - mermaids and such.” He found mermaids and sirens to be rather fascinating - they could take a form with legs on land, obviously, but it wasn’t what they were made for. He was so curious about what the depths of the ocean revealed - however, his body wasn’t built for such things. Just the sound of the word “vampire” raised her hackles just a bit. Something buried deep, a prime instinct. Nothing that would set her off to go try and maim one but she had a feeling she wouldn’t warm up to one quite as quickly. Not that it was saying much for someone like Emma and beggars couldn’t be choosers as far as friends go. The look she gave him when he started naming other species was nothing short of flabbergasted. “Unicorns? Wait, there are unicorns running around here?” The vampires she had kind of figured on. She never read fantasy books much but through pop culture she seemed to know that where there were werewolves, there tended to be vampires too. But James was naming creatures that Emma would have been certain were pure myth. Perhaps he shouldn’t mention faeries then? Because those sorts were running about as well. Baby steps though. “Needless to say, I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he flashed a confident grin. “I’m aware of how overwhelming it is, however, trust me. And if you ever want some company to help with the transition to this weird little town, I’m around.” James slid a business card across the table - it indicated where he worked, gave the address and his title, but he wrote his personal mobile phone number on the back. There we are. Perhaps he could have written his number on her arm with marker, but bloody hell, that was so primary school. He had some class. Emma sighed and rubbed her temple with one of her hands, looking every bit as overwhelmed as she felt. Unicorns and centaurs and gargoyles and mermaids. So this adjustment period was going to be more complicated than she thought. She wondered how werewolves interacted with such species, if they ever...accidentally ate each other or something. Or maybe purposely? She didn’t know what to think. She wasn’t at all confident in the grin and reassurances he was giving her but she was doing her best not to be a complete bitch about it. She knew he was trying to help and she did appreciate that she at least had someone to call if she was desperate, which seemed likely to happen. “Thanks.” She slid the card across the table and pocketed it before taking a quick look at the clock. “I should probably get back. Got any idea what you wanna order yet?” “Hmmm...” James rumbled thoughtfully, but no need to consult the menu. He knew where it was listed. “Cheese and toast, the special,” then added a helpful, “Grilled cheese special, I mean.” Sometimes those ‘other’ terms from across the pond could be confusing. But he was confident in his decision. It was difficult to cock up a grilled cheese sandwich, for fuck’s sake. He’d probably order some pie to go as well, because why not? The waitress with her surliness was just so captivating. James wouldn’t have given his number if he didn’t want her to phone, and he hoped she did - but just in case, perhaps he’d check up on her in a week or so. Being the new kid in town was no picnic, he knew that first hand. |