Hawke. (justhawke) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2013-07-29 22:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | hawke / the champion, maggie greene |
WHO: Hawke and OPEN
WHAT: A cup of coffee
WHERE: Granny's.
WHEN: July 29; evening.
WARNING?: none, yet, but tba really
There were some things Hawke missed about Thedas—her dog, her brother, open spaces, being famous, Bodahn and Sandal for reasons she couldn't entirely fathom aside from "they made good food"—and her friends, of course, the ones who hadn't been stumbling into Storybrooke in fits and gasps over the last week or so. But the things she didn't miss far, far outweighed those. And they had such phenomenal, magical things here. Like electricity channeled into flameless indoor lighting - and water indoors on command, hot and cold - and this thing called "coffee".
She'd been drawn into Granny's on a very regular basis ever since discovering it, and even though it made her very jittery on occasion, she found it was remarkably helpful in keeping her awake for the shifts they wanted her at the hospital hanging about in case of emergency. And theoretically trying to absorb information about how Storybrooke's healing worked. The attempts had met with only middling success thus far, but Hawke was game to keep trying. She was game for nearly anything, in fact - her mood hadn't been better in what felt like years.
It probably wasn't actually a function of coming to Storybrooke as much as it was a function of leaving Kirkwall and all of its problems behind, across a currently uncrossable gulf.
She was perched on one of the counter stools, wearing the impressive, surely-magical 'jeens' she'd told Merrill about, blended in quite perfectly with the other patrons; the only odd thing was the staff leaned against the counter beside her. She brought it to the hospital; it was ostentatious, tall and gold with a curvy and rather suggestively clothesless woman decorating the top - it was a very, very good staff, but Andraste's flaming toenails, where had her father gotten it and why had he made it the family inheritance, again? But putting the staff aside, she looked like anyone else. She'd had a lot of practice at it in Lothering and Kirkwall.
Her coffee arrived - along with a slice of pie, because pie - and Hawke grinned, before casting about for the sugar, so curiously contained in little paper slips, and the milk. When someone dropped down onto the empty stool next to her, she glanced up: "Hello, have you got the milk on your end?"