notsincere (notsincere) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-09-03 12:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, cinderella's prince, cindy cendrillon (cinderella) |
Who: Cinderella and her Prince
When: Early September
Where: Supermarket
What: Random Encounter
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete
Grocery shopping was kind of a necessary evil. It wasn't that Cindy hated it, per se, but there were just about a thousand other things she'd be doing. And yet in an attempt to not rely on takeout, pizza, or something completely gross like ramen or bagel bites, she'd gone to pick up a few things that would last and were pretty versatile. She didn't even need a whole cart, just a shopping basket, and was busy unloading everything onto the conveyer belt because with ten items exactly, she'd just barely managed to qualify for the express lane.
Of course she'd take it upon herself to play grocery store police, however, and as she placed her container of tofu down, she glared at the douchebag in front of her. "Isn't it annoying when some people don't know how to count..."
Twelve items. Nice try, asshole.
"The nerve of some people," came a charming voice from behind the blonde. Tom was standing in line behind her, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels and an apple. Two items. He was following the rules. Normally Tom had someone who did the shopping for him, but this was a quick trip. "Making the rest of us wait." There was amusement in his voice. Teasing. He grinned softly.
Cindy turned, because what, she was surrounded by d-bags on all sides today? Alright, honestly, she didn’t know the guy behind her. Or in front of her. But the one behind her gave her a vibe. Something she couldn’t explain. He also looked familiar, though placing the name to the face was proving to be difficult.
Whatever.
“Jack and an apple, huh?” she smirked. “Looks like the lunch of champions.” Maybe so, if you were an alcoholic. Which he very well could be. “Or were you planning to make like Ke$ha and brush your teeth with the contents of that bottle?”
“As interesting as her ideas about oral hygiene are... no, that’s not my plan.” Tom said, reaching forward to put the little divider on the conveyor belt and set his purchases down behind the striking blonde’s. “Making a glaze for some chicken, and this is the one ingredient I forgot to put on my list. Well, the apple’s just a snack.”
“You don’t look like a guy who does his own cooking, but feel free to correct me if I’m wrong,” was Cindy’s astute observation. No, with those pressed, crisp clothes and the clean-shaven appearance and the likely-capped and whitened teeth that cost a fortune but yielded a perfect, winning smile to show for it, she couldn’t imagine for one second that Grocery Store Dude lifted a finger. That was what the help was for.
Now the person in front of her was getting a price check. And taking out an insane amount of coupons. Really? In the express lane?
“Yeah, well, the chef has Tuesdays and Fridays off.” It sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t one. She’d pegged him absolutely right--didn’t lift a finger when he didn’t have to. Except when it came to certain things. He actually liked cooking. “You eat chicken?” He asked, having noticed the tofu on the conveyor belt.
Cindy rolled her eyes, because of course there was a personal chef involved in this equation. It wasn’t fair to be so judgey though, she got that, but she knew this type - men like this, the ones that called themselves charming. She’d been married to one, had even dreamed about another, and he made her feel sick to her stomach.
Quickly, she answered the question, to distract herself from saying something particularly impolite. “Sometimes, but I’m not really a fan of meat in general. I tend to substitute it for tofu because tofu sucks up the flavor of anything so well,” she said, arranging the rest of her items on the checkout lane. Mostly healthy - the worst of it was a pint of Ben and Jerry’s blueberry graham cracker frozen yogurt. Which she could easily eat in one go if she was having a bad day, don’t get it twisted. “Why, are you offering to let me try your chicken masterpiece?”
“That was the plan. Was I being too obvious?” The Prince asked, looking up at her through his puppy dog eyes. It was the kind of look that normally worked on women--the kind that he was famous for. Charming, slightly self-depreciating, with those baby blues and those lips… For a moment, he thought it might work on this blonde vegetarian, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t. “I can make tofu instead.”
Was he serious? Like she was going to melt into her shoes or hand over her wet panties as a prize for him to tack on his wall. It was like Cindy had a radar for those ‘types,’ and because of her soured outlook and experiences, they were always on her shit list. Always. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied rather bluntly, and began pushing her items a little - as if she wanted her precious fro-yo to not have a damn thing to do with this guy’s bottle of jack.
Come on, come on. Maybe if she willed the slow-poke ahead of her to hurry the hell up, then she’d get out of here that much faster. At least the annoying patron had the coupon situation sorted, so all that was left for them to do was pay. “I mean, you don’t even know me. I could have a wax museum of actual people, like in that one movie.”
As much as Tom could tell that she wanted nothing to do with him, he didn’t find it to be a deterrent. Actually, it made him want to try harder. The harder to get the better to have, anyway. He raised an eyebrow. “I sincerely doubt you’re the kind to have a wax museum of actual people. I mean, you eat Tofu and Ben and Jerry’s.”
As if a serial killer would never eat tofu or Ben and Jerry’s.
Okay, that logic was kind of messed up, but whatever. Cindy wouldn’t question it. She just lifted an eyebrow, tucking back spun gold hair with a flick of her fingers, and averted her gaze to the all too slow way she was now (finally!) being rung up. “Maybe I’m just really good at integrating myself into society, to pick out my next victim,” she stated quite seriously, but he probably wouldn’t buy it.
“Anyway, I don’t even know your name.” First rule: Never talk to strangers. Granted, she broke it first in a way, but let’s not split hairs.
“Tom.” He said, stepping forward. She was being rung up, so he leaned against the conveyer belt side thingy, watching as the cashier rung up her purchases. He gave her space, though, not wanting to push things too hard. But the chase was on. He liked this girl. “My name’s Tom.”
So that’s why all of this seemed familiar. He’d been on the network, hadn’t he? She decided to chance it, despite the small chance of this being a different Tom entirely. If she was wrong, no harm done. “Valar, right?” was her reply, rummaging through her purse to find her wallet. Her cell phone was set on the small platform, next to where the credit card machine was, while she continued rummaging. “I’m Cindy. I think we talked.” And she’d been a snarky smart-mouth then too. It wasn’t enough to put him off? How great.
Great, a total. Plastic swiped, and in a few seconds she’d be free from the jack and apple guy. “Well, you enjoy your clucker, Tom. I better get going.”
“That’s right,” Tom said, his smile brightening at that. Now he had a name, a face, and practically an email address. This definitely wouldn’t be the last time he saw this girl. “Valar. I’m surprised you remember,” though, not really. That conversation was pretty memorable.
He stepped up with a smile as she swiped and got her receipt. “Thanks. And you enjoy your Tofu. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
Another eyeroll was Cindy’s response, but to her credit, she did it when she was facing away, tucking her receipt back into her wallet. “Yeah, see you around, maybe,” she consented, because uh, no, she didn’t really plan on it but it wouldn’t hurt to humor him and his dazzling Crest white strips smile for thirty seconds or so.
Bags slung over her wrist, she took off for the exit. Thank god. Unfortunately, the cell phone left behind at the checkout counter? That was hers. At least it wasn’t her work cell with the important numbers on it. But still, good job, Cinderella.