Dimitri (basecompound) wrote in worldsapart_ic, @ 2019-06-03 21:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | layla lin, nikolai |
Who: Nikolai & Layla Lin
What: Hellhounds are like buses, you wait for one and two turn up at the same time
When: 2nd June
Where: The Jam Jar
Rating: Low
Warnings: n/a
There were some things that even Hellhounds were not immune to, coffee being one of those things and bagels. Not just any bagels but rather bagels with cream cheese. Nikolai had grown quite fond of both of those things especially first thing in the morning when he’d spent an entire evening dealing with people who owed The Broker money and he hadn’t gotten any sleep worth mentioning.
The Jam Jar was his preferred location of choice when it came to securing both items because he knew that everything was fresh and hadn’t been sat out getting stale so he was by all rights a regular loyal customer. He even had one of those cards they stamped each time he bought a coffee so when he collected all ten he was entitled to a free coffee, it was a smart marketing scheme and definitely provided motivation for those interested in saving some dimes.
He barely repressed a large yawn as he shuffled into the Jam Jar and joined the queue as it would seem somebody at the front of it couldn’t decide between skimmed or almond milk. Nikolai definitely did not have the patience for this, not after last night, and this early in the morning.
That woman at the front of the line really didn’t know what she wanted - however, Layla just rolled with it, while her jogging-outfit clad self asked questions and caused an agitated murmur to ripple through the crowd. Personally, the hellhound was busy playing on her phone - the game where you shift and slide cookies around to get them all in a row, and clear the board the more cookies and cupcakes disappear. She knew she wanted a coffee, a hazelnut latte, to be exact - tall, frothy, and still piping hot. Also a bagel. She wanted one of those. Something warm and bursting with Jewish grandmother flavors.
That was when she noticed - behind her, it wasn’t...it wasn’t a person. She picked up on the aura of dreary hopelessness and evil soaked into the very ground - the aura of the Otherworld. Of course, not every soul that came from this place was as terrible as it happened to be - most she knew never wanted to return.
“They boil them first,” she said as an opening line, glancing up from her phone, pushing her hair from her face. “The bagels. That’s what makes them good. I mean - “ Wow, she was an idiot. Here was the first hellhound she’d run into in years and she sounded so dumb, but her surprise had gotten the best of her. “...sorry.”
At the same time as she clocked him Nikolai returned the favour. It was a combination of the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge accompanied by a distinct rippling of energy over his skin until it seemed to find and resonate with an otherwise empty on occasion bottomless pit in the dead middle of his chest and on occasion stomach. It had been a very long time since he’d last run into another of his kind, rare even, and given the moment he allowed himself the full scope and breadth of it to soak in everything about her.
Of course it registered at some point that she seemed to playing some sort of game on her phone which involved moving cookies around and that in itself was… strange, but then Hellhounds weren’t what you could or would ever classify as “normal”.
“It’s been a long time since I ran into another like me,” Nikolai offered as his cool blue eyes swept over her and then settled finally on her face.
“Uh - “ Layla swallowed, slipping her phone back into her purse. It was a Chanel bag she’d found at a thrift shop for seven dollars - when she got home, she looked it up online to see that it was truly worth a pretty penny (as in, hundreds and hundreds of dollars). Things like that were fun to her - and she was aware she was kind of a sad individual in that regard, but oh well. She was still figuring out how to live solely as a human now that she wasn’t bound to her family anymore, or bound to anyone at all. “Me too. I mean, it’s been awhile. Your human face is nice.”
Did that sound dumb? Probably. But she meant it as a compliment - his eyes were the color of blue jeans. He had high cheekbones and even a dimple in the chin - whereas her human form was nothing special, in her view.
Blushing, she felt a jolt when the cashier called “NEXT” rather pointedly, so she stumbled forward to place her order. “And whatever he wants,” she added, motioning to the man behind her.
It was perhaps nothing special in her view but to an external perspective and somebody who appreciated the finer things in life it was definitely one to admire. Her lips were full and her eyes held a spark of joy that meant her gaze was one he couldn’t imagine that others would tire of.
He would have replied there and then if not for the cashier calling for the next in line but much like her he moved forward, stopping just behind her and dropping his head so he could speak directly into her ear. “I was going to say that yours isn’t too bad either.” And with that he leaned back with a boyish smile creeping across his lips before he placed his order for a black coffee and bagel with cream cheese.
“The next one is on me,” he assured her.
Layla nearly jumped through the ceiling when the hound - person, she didn’t know his name yet - bent to speak closer to her, a low murmur in her ear. Honestly, he could have been saying something useless regarding the price of tea in China (well, that she actually knew) and it would have sounded nice too.
“Really?” He thought her human form wasn’t too bad? A dopey grin crossed her face as she reached into her handbag, to pull out her wallet this time - a bill was placed onto the counter for the barista, but she kept her eyes on her newfound hound, so she didn’t quite see what she was doing.
“Ma’am, do you want your change?” That question broke into Layla’s reverie and, flustered, she took the dollar bills and coins that were handed back to her.
Yeah, she was such an idiot sometimes. But oh well. “Do you want to sit with me?” she asked, once she received her coffee and bagel (one of the ‘everything’ bagels, all sorts of garlic and onion and other flavors that would ensure she’d need gum after). “I usually take the table by the window.” People-watching was a way to kill time until she had to work, basking in the quietness of this little coffee shop, breathing in the scent of homemade pastries and scones, and observing the world as it passed by.
“I’m Layla.”
Nikolai never tired of how just when he thought he knew everything the world surprised him. One of the many reasons he had no desire to return to the literal hell that had birthed him. No hound did or so he’d found, there was always an exception to the rule.
“Really,” he assured her before she was distracted by the Barista and Nikolai ducked his head to hide the slight smile which passed over his features. “Nikolai,” he offered. It hadn’t been his name of choice but necessity given that when The Broker summoned him he was nose, tail and wing deep in the middle of rural Russia. Literally the only reason Nikolai was fluent in that particular language.
And rather than confirm that he would like to join her he followed her over to the table in question and shrugged out of his jacket, resting it over the back of the chair before he caught the other chair and held it for Layla.
Holding the chair out was a gentlemanly move - Layla thought only men in films did that, but she guessed she was wrong. And was pleasantly surprised. She was giddy like a fat kid chasing an ice cream truck, but managed to stay somewhat cool and sit in the chair without falling on her ass. That would have been embarrassing.
“It’s nice to meet you, Nikolai,” she told him, after swallowing a bite of her bagel and schmear. Just in case, she swiped a napkin across her mouth because talking with cream cheese on her upper lip would also have been a faux pax in these sorts of situations (she assumed). “How long have you been in LA?”
Another bite was taken - this hound was hungry. “I just moved here from Hong Kong, so not that long for me.” Well, she just barreled right ahead, but then would let him answer - it’s just that she was kind of nervous, so.
Layla certainly could talk but that sat well with Nikolai who was in complete contrast relatively quiet and some would say stoic, he spoke when needed and didn’t like to waste his time with pointless expression. “It’s quite a change from Hong Kong,” he noted. “Did you come here with your contract holder?” That was one of the many reasons why Hellhounds moved around a lot because some contract holders didn’t stay anywhere for too long, The Broker hadn’t until LA.
He took a sip from his coffee which he drank as it came with no additions or changes, you couldn’t beat a classic and the Jam Jar did do the best coffee.
“I’ve been here a while,” he concluded with a nod. “Long enough that I’ve forgotten the exact time that’s passed.”
“Me? Uh, no - “ Layla had never had to explain this before; in fact, she still had trouble grasping it herself sometimes. Having all this freedom was a whole other nerve wracking experience for her. “My contract holder...er, the one who summoned me? The family, I mean? I was summoned to be kind of a guard for when they ran business. The line would have died out with the last witch, so - she knew I didn’t want to go back to the Otherworld. She set me free.”
Carefully, she broke off a piece of her bagel and chewed silently, mulling it over. It was great because the idea of returning to darkness and desolation gave her a shudder - but also confusing; Layla had always existed to protect and serve her family, whomever they might be.
She didn’t have a family now. She didn’t have anyone. “I’m still getting used to it.”
Nikolai’s eyebrows lifted in response to the confession that Layla was free of contract and obligation. “That’s a first for me,” he admitted as he broke off a piece of bagel and popped it into his mouth. “It isn’t often somebody voluntarily releases things like us from our contracts.”
He pushed a hand through his hair and tipped his head.
“I can imagine it’s a big adjustment.”
Layla nodded. “It is,” she admitted - it really was kind of like one of those ‘be careful what you wish for’ things, at least at first, but overall she knew this was going to be the right thing for her. She could have a chance to do whatever she wanted, since now she had the time and no other obligations to hold her back. First, she just had to adjust to the change.
“Do you have a contract here? With someone decent, I hope?” It made her sad when hounds were mistreated - they were trapped in that ironclad commitment no matter what, and to be miserable, to suffer through mistreatment? All of that was terribly unfair.
“I do,” Nikolai said with a nod of his head. Decent? Unfortunately not. Could be worse though, a lot worse. “And he’s… demanding and very unappreciative of the work I do on his behalf.” He was after all a lot more invested in gathering power and treasure in the form of coin and other such things. “But there are worse things in the world.”
He broke off a piece of bagel and popped it into his mouth.
“Oh,” Layla’s shoulders slumped a little. She was disappointed to hear that the contractor Nikolai was behold to was someone who could be considered difficult. It not only made her sad, but angry too - it wasn’t like hounds were meant to be slaves. They were still independent creatures with their own thoughts and feelings.
She reached across the table and patted Nikolai’s hand. Maybe was a little awkward about it, since she didn’t have a lot of close friends and didn’t really know how all the nuances of social graces went, yet the expression was genuine with its intent. “Well, at least you know of someone like you in the city now. Um. I’ll get to see you again, I hope?”
Nikolai regarded her patting of his hand with a curious regard as it was rare that people initiated contact with him because there was something… off putting and intimidating about him but then he was a Hellhound, it was to be expected.
“Hmm, true,” he mused aloud before he stopped the passing barista and asked to borrow their pen at which point he jotted down a number on a napkin. The pen went back to its owner and the napkin was pushed across the table. “It would be easier to keep in touch if you had my number.”
Layla had never gotten someone’s phone number before. In a breakfast cafe, nonetheless (coffee shop? Was that what it was meant to be called?). How exciting! She took the napkin with a great deal of reverence, dark eyes shining with happiness.
“Here, you can have mine too,” she said happily, pulling out her phone to - not play a game of Cookie Jam this time, but no, to give someone her phone number. Nimble thumbs fired off a text to the provided digits, and she tucked the napkin away in her purse for safekeeping.
Because it was a napkin with someone’s phone number on it, someone who had a very nice human face.
“I’m so glad I ran into you,” she told Nikolai, stopping to bite her lip before she babbled too much.
Nikolai felt the buzzing of his phone in his pocket as Layla’s text was received and he smiled at her as he collected up what remained of his coffee.
“You too, Layla.” He finished off his bagel and got to his feet, slipping a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket to rummage out a pair of dark shades that he slid on as LA was bright this time of morning. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
He gave her a further smile before turning away to head out of the Jam Jar, perhaps today wasn’t a total wash after all.