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Post by Chris Evans on Nov 27, 2006 17:46:46 GMT -5
Now this was more like it. A place were a person could dress the way they felt without having to worry about being thrown out due to dress codes. Just what this individual preferred. After all, suits and fancy clothing were somewhat uncomfortable and stuffy in his eyes anway. It was probably since he wasn't used to it, haven't not grown up having to frequent expensive shindigs. He could clean up nicely if he wanted to though. Trust that.
Sliding into a booth after placing his order at the counter, Christian pressed his lips together as he worked at removing his gloves. He was pretty much clad biker guy style -- semi-snug faded blue jeans, white tee shirt was ever-so-slightly clung to his torso, and black jacket over the shirt. His motorbike was situated outside, collecting a bit of snowflakes upon the seat. Despite the frigid cold, he liked this time of year, just for the fact that everyone seemed much more festive. Nice. There was the occasional scrooge though, and some probably thought he was one since he rarely smiled. Oh well. He didn't care what people thought about him really.
Sneaking his now glove-free hand up to his dark brown hair, he gently brushed the lightly dusting of snowflakes which was decorating it. Grey-blue eyes settled upon each patron in turn, as if searching for someone in particular. And they were in a sense, as the owner was scoping out someone of mild interest. Not finding anyone, he slumped slightly on his seat, gazing out through the window at the late evening sky. Being as he hadn't been to work this day, he'd properly enjoyed the day, and planned to do the same for the night as well.
Using one finger to rub at the stubble on his cheek, he closed his eyes, patiently awaiting his meal. [/color][/center] |
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Post by Mercedes Love on Nov 27, 2006 18:05:34 GMT -5
“Look, lady. We all have our nights. But this is the SIXTH time you have messed up my order. Is it that you can not handle your job. It’s basically empty in here, so what’s your deal?”
Mercedes was standing, hands on her hips, next to the front counter. This was annoying. All she wanted was to sit, eat a steak, maybe have a beer and whatever. This was a one time thing, so why was this crazy bitch screwing it up?
She was, one again clad in another one of her juicy couture sweat sets. Bleh. This time, in a light lavender, sporting matching gyms shoes. Jesus. What was wrong with this girl? She was going to be disowned by every club in town if she kept this up.
After glaring, and tapping her foot, Mercedes made her way back to her table, where she sat down, back against the wall and legs spread out in front of her, on the seat. Two booths down, was that one guy she had seen at the Muse. What was his name?
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Post by Chris Evans on Nov 27, 2006 18:29:35 GMT -5
Allowing one eyelid to inch open, Chris looked towards the person blessing off the woman behind the counter. His gaze travelled her length, from the lips slighty pouty in annoyance, down to the hands propped on her hips. He slightly smirked. Women were all the same. The only action missing from Miss Tritoni's body movements was the turning of the neck and the snapping of the fingers. Somehow, he manged to keep in a chuckle. Sure women were sexy when they were mad, but sometimes what they did only served to amuse him. In a good way though. Honestly.
He'd looked away from her long before she'd taken her seat a couple booths down from him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he relaxed back, only glancing at her briefly. Maybe he could go talk to her, but surely he wasn't the type of guy she'd be 'gallivanting' with. But then again, she didn't seem the type to be in a place like this either. Maybe he was just pre-judging her, wrongly at that. He decided against going over to her for the time being though. Instead, he took to people-watching, gaze lingering on random individuals as they walked to an from the counter. Not many people were present this night, but it wasn't such a bad thing. Made for more peace and quiet. [/color][/center] |
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Post by Mercedes Love on Nov 27, 2006 18:52:02 GMT -5
Mercedes opened her eyes, as a plate of chicken was placed in front of her. She didn’t even care anymore. So, whatever, she had ordered STEAK. Which was a RED meat. NOT WHITE. But whatever. Just as the women turned to leave, Mercedes stuck her fork in it, just into to find it was uncooked. What the hell?
“HEY! EXCUSE ME.” She was near yelling now. “Honey. I ordered steak, number 1. This is not steak. I don’t know if you know what the difference is, but I do. Number 2. This isn’t cooked. Chicken has to be cooked. With me so far? If not, I’ll get sick and die. Do you really want that…Don’t answer that. Point. This. Is. Wrong.”
Cede pushed the plate in front of her, and crossed her arms, not even looking at it. In about three seconds, she was going to take a trip over the some fast food joint and eat a whole ass load of fries. This was highly annoyed. But 8th times the charm, right?
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Post by Chris Evans on Nov 27, 2006 19:13:03 GMT -5
It was hard not to focus one's attention on a person when they were practically yelling. He always thought people like that were attention-seekers, but in a sense he did understand why she was angry. Certainly it took a lot of patience to try and deal with someone who didn't care to listen, or clearly didn't understand something as simple as 'Can I have a steak dinner please?' Anyway. It wasn't any of his business. Her problem really.
Thanking the woman who brought his own plate of steak over, being as his order had beeen gotten right, he picked up his fork, but didn't do anything with the meal. Instead, he stood up to his full 6'2" height, plate in hand and coke bottle in the other. Setting the plate in front of Miss Tritoni, he smirked. "You can have it, if you want. No, its not out of pity. And no, I haven't poisoned or done anything with it. Promise," he murmured in that smooth yet somewhat quiet voice of his, holding his hands up in semi-defense. It didn't seem to him that they'd ever get her order right, so why not be nice? Plus, maybe he could make himself a new friend... Maybe. [/color][/center] |
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Post by Mercedes Love on Nov 27, 2006 19:34:59 GMT -5
Watching the plate being set down in front of her, she almost jumped. God. That was nice. But Why? New Yorkers weren’t nice. Her eyes like a deer in headlights. The look was quickly gone, once her eyes laid on the person who had done it.
“Thanks.” She mumbled. Then her hand flew to her pocket, with drawing a ten dollar bill. The dinner it’s self was like seven fifty. Her could keep the change. Like a tip.
“Do you wanna…” She asked, pointing to the other side of the booth and not finishing the sentence. She almost never did.
“Unless you’re…busy…”
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Post by Chris Evans on Nov 27, 2006 19:56:15 GMT -5
Contemplating taking the seat for a couple moments since it really didn't seem like she wanted him to, Chris finally sat down, pushing her ten bucks back to him. Did he look like he wanted payment for it? Unless he looked like some type of charity case or something. "Its fine. Just enjoy it," he muttered, only just then putting his coke bottle to his lips, taking a brief swig. Setting the bottle atop the counter, he leaned it to the side slightly, absently, though not to spill any of its contents. He took note of her slight shock upon him just giving her, a perfect stranger, his meal. But whatever. Hadn't anybody in her life been nice to her?
"Name's Chris," he offered, by way of introduction, giving her partial attention. Sure she was beautiful, but most girls around New York was. He didn't have time to stare and gawk at every pretty face. Physical attributes weren't what attracted him to girls mostly really, in or out of a friendship or relationship, as was the case with most people. Anyway. He was only just providing conversation. [/color][/center] |
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Post by Mercedes Love on Nov 27, 2006 20:10:45 GMT -5
“Cede. Cede Tritoni.”
She then cut the steak into a bite sized bit, drowned it in steak sauce, and ate it. Mmm. Red Meat.
“So…Chris. Life story?”
She needed something to listen to while she ate this mans dinner.
OhOhSee//
Short. Ewwy.
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Post by Chris Evans on Nov 28, 2006 15:24:41 GMT -5
"So...Chris. Life story." [/b] Ever-so-slightly quirking a brow, Chris allowed a smirk to drift unto his lips. He didn't reveal his history to anyone, especially not to someone he'd only just met. "There's nothing interesting about me really. It'd be best if you just asked random questions and see if I maybe answer them." Yeah, that'd be just about right. It wasn't like he condense the important facts of twenty years in his life just like that. Not happening. She might be used to people volunteering bits and pieces at her ever whim, but he wasn't going to be added to that bunch of them. "Basic information though. I'm twenty. The last name is Evans. I work for a living. Lived in New York all my life. Family wanted me to move to Cali with them but I decided against it. Needed to be indepent of them or whatever," he shrugged, and that was about it. If she wanted something specific, she'd definitely have to ask, as he'd politely instructed her to do a while ago. [/size][/color][/center] |
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Post by Mercedes Love on Nov 28, 2006 15:44:13 GMT -5
“Basics? I’ll give you mine. And then I’ll question you. I think it’s rude to take someone’s dinner, and then not ask them about themselves. “
“Like I said, Name is Cede. Mercedes. I’m NYC born-and-raised. I’m the big bitch around her. Point blank. People know me. It’s awkward at times. I’m 18, only had one steady job, which was being a waitress at the Underground, last summer. I graduated a year early, only because I basically paid my way out of half my classes. I model. And I dance.”
There you have it. The life or Cede. Woo. Interesting.
“How about yourself…what do you do?”
Cede was half way done with her lovely piece of steak…This was nice. The steak. Not him…well he was…but honestly. What would you prefer…A hot steak with steak sauce after wandering around your own café looking for your car keys, or a random guy who forced her to actually think about what she was saying? That’s what I thought.
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Post by Chris Evans on Nov 28, 2006 21:25:17 GMT -5
Oh? She knew what rude was? Lovely. He guessed she just disregarded the whole meaning when it was convenient to her, though. Really now. He shouldn't be thinking so wrongly, hotly about this chick. She hadn't done anything wrong to him. Nope. Not yet at least.
"I'm the big bitch around here." [/b] Wo-ho-ho. He almost wanted to tell her to relay something to him that he didn't already know. "I graduated a year early, only because I basically paid my way out of half my classes."[/b] There she went strengthening his belief that rich people bought there way out of everything. Jeeze. And you know how the rich get richer? Asswipe store managers, owners, and item makers did the dumbass thing and give the fuckers free stuff. Like what the fuck? The people who could afford the stuff were the ones being given it free. It was funny really. Well, she was honest. Kudos to the big bitch. Now now, he wasn't being rude in his mind. Seriously. Just using the words she had. Mentally. "I deliver stuff," he informed, shrugging lightly. Yeah. He was one of the guys in the big ass trucks rolling around town without a care in the world. The guy who seriously thought about running over one of the... No, he isn't that morbid. "I didn't finish school. Got bored of it, so I just got a job instead. Of course, I could be doing something else, but for some reason or another, I like my job." Taking another swig from his coke bottle, he slid down on his seat a bit. "So. You an only child?" he asked her, wondering just how spoilt she was. Only children tended to get showered a hell of a lot more with gifts. [/size][/color][/center] |
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Post by Mercedes Love on Nov 29, 2006 16:00:50 GMT -5
"Nope. One of three. I've got an older Brother, and an Older sister. My sister, Justine, goes to NYU. My brother is an ass who lives somewhere is Cali."
Cede answered him without looking at him. Her eyes were set on a car parked out front...a nice looking car. Hmm. Who owned that, and where could she find a number to get in touch with them.
Ahh. Cars. Cars plus Mercedes equals races. Races equal fun. Oh what joy. But wait, did she even have a license? Well of course. And it's not DUI? Nope. Shocker.
Returning back to Chris, she looked at him blankly. She had never met someone one who enjoyed what they did for a living. She, sometimes doesn't enjoy her job. And she doesn't even have a job... |
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Post by Eric Deniel on Nov 29, 2006 22:51:08 GMT -5
Ooc:||Chris post
Bic:||Chris chuckled. Right. An actual chuckle at her comments. Well, call 'Ripley's Believe It or Not' for pigs were about to start flying out his ass. Now who'd wanna miss that? Right. Thought so.
Following Cede's gaze to the window, he noticed what she was looking at and a look of deep appreciation crossed his face. So she was into fancy cars, but he wondered if she was the type to sit around in the back and get driven around, or was she badass enough to get behind the wheel and exercise her need for speed? He might as well ask.
"So, you into fast cars?" he questioned, leaning forward on the table, planting his elbows down upon it. So he was trying to learn out some things about this chick. Because he was starting to find her...interesting. Sue him. [/color][/center] |
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Post by Mercedes Love on Nov 29, 2006 23:13:32 GMT -5
“I am.”
Mercedes didn’t have her name for no reason. You think her name had always been Mercedes? Oh, well, darling you’re sadly mistaken. You wouldn’t be able to guess if you tried. So don’t.
“Are you? I have a thing for the dark alleys of NYC, where you can only fit a well driven sports, car.”
So, maybe he wasn’t half bad. He was still here…even know her steak was finished. Four minutes ago.
But the question was, Was he into car’s like she was? If not, now that he’d asked, he’d been in for an ass load of storys.
OhOhSee//
Writers Block. Don’t Like it? Go die. |
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Post by Chris Evans on Nov 30, 2006 12:52:22 GMT -5
"That's cool," Chris nodded, her statement making him know that she was the one behind the wheel. Nice. "Naw. I don't really drive cars...street racing is cool though. Watched a few. Liked those movies...the Fast and Furious ones. Anyway. If I ever race anything, it'll a motorbike." He shrugged, being that everyone had their personal preferences. There was just something about being on a motorbike, leg and face close to pavement upon taking a sharp turn. So he hadn't done that, but it was nice to watch. And for motoring sakes, you couldn't flip a damn car. Set it on two wheels, even one. But not give it a full three sixty rotation. That friend, is why a car would forever be number two.
"How long you been racing cars?" he asked, figuring she did. Who went through tight corners by themselves, with no one watching, or no stakes? Only a fucking idiot. [/color][/center] |
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