Clara Archer (helpingwhatails) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-01-15 21:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | clara archer, samuel ward |
Lo, Serendipity
She hadn't wanted to pry, if she was completely honest she'd been doing her best not to pry since he'd walked in with his hair back in a loose ponytail and a look of intense frustration and concentration on his face and ordered a beer, proceeding to flop the newspaper down onto the bartop and tap a pen against it.
She really hadn't wanted to pry as he drew circles around some places, then scratched them out. It wasn't her business, after all, but the more she heard him turning pages the more her curiosity was tugging at her like a kitten at the edge of a ragged, ancient tapestry. The timing was perfect, Clara opened her mouth to speak as he realised that his beer was empty and lifted a hand to catch her attention. Trying - and failing - to pretend that she hadn't been waiting for the perfect moment to speak to him, Clara moved from the middle of the bar to the edge where he was at, her hand already on the tap and pouring him another beer without him having to ask. Once she'd let the head settle for a little, she placed it in front of him and glanced down at the paper. "Looking for anything in particular?" Moving to Summerview and starting all over again had seemed like such a good idea at the time. When he was in Atlantic city, had a place to stay, and was able to let idle curiosity get the better of him. Of course now he was here with a job thankfully secured but still nowhere to call his own which for a wolf he had found out over the last five years very important and living in the B&B he was starting to think that it would in fact be the very thing that killed him. Now there was nothing wrong with the B&B, the exact opposite in fact, but he couldn't stay there permanently. He needed his own space, just needed somewhere he could let his hair down, both figuratively and literally, and not have to talk to people. Samuel didn't consider himself antisocial but generally speaking he kept his distance from people save for those he was tattooing because a shitty tattoo artist let you sit through that silently. He'd never been this introverted before he'd been attacked but after the attack he'd retreated, kept himself to himself, figured it was better that way. So distracted was he by his frustration it took him a minute or so to work out that the bartender was speaking to him and when he finally looked up he gave an apologetic smile. "Anything that isn't the BB really." Not a lie, he would honestly take anything at this point. "And uh thanks, for the refill." "You're welcome," she responded with a nod of her head, "you were comin' to the end of your first glass and you look like you're doin' thirsty work." When he explained what he was doing, she rested her elbow on the counter and then placed her chin in her upturned hand. "You've not got anywhere to stay?" That was a shame, he looked like a nice guy and if he was living here he didn't need to be staying at the B&B. "That's gotta be expensive." She hummed a little, head tilted as she looked at him, holding a hand out for him to take. "I'm Clara, by the way. What sorta place are you lookin' for?" Now he wasn't quite so fixated on his fruitless apartment search he was able to pick up on a distinct scent surrounding the bartender. It was hard to describe but he imagined that if glitter had a scent then this would be it as it was a mixture of sweet and flowery. Immediately that told him one of two things, she either had a lot of perfume on or she wasn't quite as human as she might appear. He took the offered hand and closed his own around it in a firm grip. "Nice to meet you, Clara. I'm Samuel, but people tend to call me Sam." He picked up his newly refilled beer and took a sip before he glanced at the discarded newspaper. "Preferably close to where I work, nice open spaces, a pretty relaxed roommate, just somewhere I can call my own." "You got warm hands," Clara praised as he closed his hand around hers, dwarfing her delicate fingers with his. "Nice to meet you, Sam." She wiped down the bar and collected a few empty glasses, fingers catching on them and they clinked as she picked them up. He was interesting, a curiosity sparked in her and she felt a sense of loneliness as he talked about what he was looking for in a roommate. She wondered if she'd be a good fit. She was lonely too, after all. "So it ain't exactly a complicated demand list then, huh," she responded, ducking away just briefly to put the empty glasses in the dishwasher. "You picky about livin' with any specific gender?" "Uh, thanks," Samuel replied as it was a random comment to make but he was starting to think that was his life now: weird and random. No other way of describing it all things considered. He shook his head and reached up to rub his fingers through his hair. "I'm not exactly a demanding kind of guy." Far from it in fact, he was pretty low maintenance. "And no, not picky." He'd lived with both in his time so he definitely didn't have a preference. "Why?" "Mine are always cold," Clara clarified after he looked weirded out by her comment. She wiped her hands on the legs of her pants and then hummed again in thought. She watched him run his fingers through his hair and glanced across the bar to make sure that no other patrons were looking for attention. They weren't, so she returned hers to him. "Non-demandin' is good, means you'd be a good housemate. I'm just askin' 'cause I'm livin' in a two bed and could do with someone to help me out with rent. If you're lookin' for somewhere to live, I got a room and I ain't a messy housemate." As she presented the opportunity of actually having someplace to live he found himself looking at her that little bit more closely because from his experience nobody was that nice or that forthcoming so did she have another motive? "And you'd be happy me moving in without any sort of references?" He queried, eyebrow lifted and hand moving to curl around his glass. "I could be some sort of serial killer for all you know." An extension of his index finger followed and was held up rather pointedly. "I'm not, but you get my point." Clara snorted. "Are you a serial killer?" she asked, confused as to why he'd be second guessing her offer. She was being nice, she needed someone to live with her to help with bills and rent and if he needed a place to stay it just made sense. There was nothing about him that made her feel discomforted or awkward and she had a pretty good gut feeling when it came to people (only not at all, but she maintained that if he was going to be awful or a danger to her she'd have known). "'Cause 'I'm not' sounds like the kinda thing a serial killer would say." "Well..." He started before he smirked and shook his head. "No, definitely not." He folded his arms atop of the bar and lifted his gaze to rest on Clara's face, dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he took another long hard look at her. "Were you serious, about having a room?" Clara lifted an eyebrow and met his gaze, her eyes alight with amusement and honesty. "If you're gonna murder me in my sleep at least make sure that I ain't left lookin' too unlady like. My mommas would kill me." When he looked at her intensely, she squirmed a little, glancing away and scuffing her foot on the floor behind the bar. "Course," she replied. "Why would I lie about it?" Samuel snorted quietly. "No promises." He cleared his throat a moment later and shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly I have no idea but I think the disbelief is more a reflection on me than it is on you." Though she was telling the truth, that much he could tell from the steady thump-thump of her heartbeat which was still a weird thing to be able to do even after all these years. "Well, I guess if you're serious I think we should talk about a viewing and then if all good a date I can move in." "Don't really see the point in lyin' to someone," she pointed out, "lies always come out in the end and it's worse to be caught in a lie than to tell the truth." She cleared her throat and pushed her fingers through her hair to push the flyaway wisps out of her face. When he mentioned moving in her face lit up again. "I'd be down for that, I mean, for you to come take a look an' all." "You have a point there," Samuel admitted ruefully. He didn't consider himself a liar but he did know that he didn't offer a lot of information which if he thought about it for too long meant he was in fact lying by omission. Tomato, tomato. He sipped at his beer and nodded his head. "All I need to know when would be good for you and I'm sure I can move my shifts around." "This weekend, maybe?" Clara asked, "I work a few evenin's in the week but mostly do day shifts. So I'm pretty easy to work around, ain't gonna be goin' anywhere in a hurry either, kinda sunk what money I had into the deposit an' stuff." Samuel leaned back and reached into his hip pocket to take out his phone, flicking it open with a PIN and doing a quick scan of his diary for the weekend. It definitely didn't look busy, a couple appointments, but nothing major. "How does four on Saturday work for you?" Clara wasn't quite so organised, she wrinkled her nose and looked up, running through her calendar before she held up a finger to ask him to wait, disappearing into the back to look at the rota. When she came out, someone was looking for a drink and she glanced apologetically at Sam and served the customer, patient and kind as she did. Once he was content with his three glasses and had wobbled away to a table, Clara returned to the end of the bar where Sam was sitting. "Sorry 'bout that," she muttered sheepishly, "But four works for me, I can meet you here?" "It's alright," he assured her. "You're working after all." They just so happened to have gotten onto the subject of his potentially moving in with her. Definitely not what he'd expected when he'd stropped in the quest for alcohol to make himself feel better. Samuel added a further item to his diary and nodded. "Four it is on Saturday." "Neat," Clara beamed. "You feelin' better, Sam?" She asked, because he'd seemed down when she'd first walked over to him, frustrated and lonely and generally irritated with the world. She hoped that at least the conversation and the prospect of a housemate had helped even a little. Samuel ducked his head before clearing his throat as he finally gave in, allowing himself to acknowledge that actually yes he did feel better. "Yeah, I am." It was promising, more so than the other places he'd looked at and opted out really quickly. Hopefully it would still be as promising on Saturday. "Good," Clara said with a satisfied little smile and she nodded her head. "I gotta go serve other customers, but just give me a shout if you need anythin' before you head out, and if not, I'll meet you here on Saturday." She started to move away before she moved back over and tapped her fingers on the bar. "It was nice to meet you, by the way." And with that, she drifted away, her lilting accent and voice still audible as she chatted to the other patrons, sparing a glance and a wave in Sam's direction every now and then. Well, that was unexpected. And awesome. |