K
Kitti
Guest
Original poster
[size=-2]
Thanos watched the pair with amusement, assessing both of them while they spoke and offering smiles at points in their argument. At the mention of his clothing, Thanos flicked a glance down and chuckled. "I'm touched, a fellow artist likes my work. I was hoping it wouldn't all be dentists coming in, looking to buy something appropriately bland and unoffensive for their offices..." he replied, turning his attention to the instrument on Jakub's back. "It was one of the most recent, though the main reason I wore these" he plucked at the paint splattered pants "was because they're some of the only ones I own where you can tell that they were intended to be white..." he grinned, extending his hand.
"I'm Thanos, and before you ask, yes I know I'm very Greek and it's been pointed out to me, both when I left Patras and in every conversation I've ever had with a woman under the age of thirty" this was accompanied by a cheeky eyebrow raise, not wanting to admit that he had taken a liking to the man and that if one of them had chosen to point out he was Greek one more time, he wasn't sure he'd be able to continue talking to them. Thanos did not carry much faith in the intelligence of anyone he'd met recently and he fell silent, looking up at them with dark, expectant eyes.
Crescent nodded to Travis, examining the watch on her wrist. Silently, she shook her head, wondering where all the time went. Even still, she had not seen any customers come in for Val. "Looks like no one wants fluffy ponies today, Val, would you mind ringing this man up since you're not busy? I need to autoclave a few things real quick and then I'm starved" she grabbed the equipment and motioned for Travis to follow her into the room with the autoclave.
"Ours is a nice, new model, so I'll show you how to use it here" she told him, carefully going through the motions while she eyed his overall form. He was decently handsome, sweet, and amusing. Easy-going, she could hardly sense a temper at all beneath the surface. Finishing up, she grabbed her jacket off the hook by the door of the store.
"I'll buy you lunch today" she told him flippantly, heading down the street to a small Asian restaurant. It was her favorite, the elderly couple had known her since she was just entering puberty and they had always taken good care of her. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, the matriarch bustled over with a wide smile splitting her face and showed them to a table in the back corner.
Sitting down neatly, Crescent held up the menu in front of her face not to study it, since she knew it by heart, but to conceal her face as she spoke. "Your question, first, Travis" she told him, preparing how best to breach her own statement.
Hibine stammered shyly some protest to Cecilia about his glasses, but ended up affirming that he would indeed enjoying shopping for clothes. A tinkling laugh and ten minutes later, they were on a bus stopping in front of a shopping center in the heart of the city. Unwaveringly, Cecilia pulled Hibine into a little boutique the such stylized letters for the name, he could hardly tell what the shop was called. In an instant, smiling women flanked him and were chatting merrily, pulling clothes from hangers in a wave of chaos and confusion that made Hibine want to slink back out the door. He might have, in fact, had Cecilia not been clinging to his arm and speaking at light speed to keep up with their banter.
After a minute or two, Hibine had clothes pressed into his hands and was unceremoniously scooted into a changing room. The latest fashions had clearly been employed and Hibine found himself in a fitted tan greatcoat, double-breasted with authentic brass buttons. Smooth, black denim jeans seemed fitted to his form and his aviator boots even had shearling. Beneath it was a simple gray button-up shirt.
"Are you sure?" he asked quizzically as he stepped from the changing room. One of the boutique women squealed and began searching for a pair of gloves.
Orianna looked up from her menu, a soft smile easing the corners of her lips. "No, nothing's wrong, Reyna. Unless you count my utter cluelessness on what to order... I'll let you order for me if you promise not to make it too rich, I don't want to be exercising for another two hours to make up for heavy sauces or something" she chuckled, running a fingertip over the figurine. So he was only a friend? Orianna hoped so, although why she had an aversion to Reyna dating, she wasn't sure. It was just, none of these men were right for her and a selfish part of Orianna knew it would cut into their time together.
"How has your day been?" it was pleasant outside, with sunshine splashing everywhere and lighting up her gentle gold hair like waves of shimmering gold. "Maybe I should get a photo shoot today so I can have dessert with you later" she joked, somehow still less cognizant of her own appearance than the way the sun was making Reyna's hair light up like brilliantly glinting jet.
Darius tucked his black leather glove into the pocket of his luxurious coat, quilted wool jersey stretching down to his ankles. Still, he thought as he patted the pocket, it was not as pleasantly warm as the mink one in this cold weather. However, this coat would have to do for now, since it was too large a risk that sniveling activists would damage the soft, expensive fur. He was in a suitably dark mood to match the weather outside when he stepped into the little corner bookstore.
The scent of dust invaded his nostrils and he grimaced momentarily when his senses were assaulted by the faint smell of must and the heavy quality of the air. Still, this was where his tip had told him the book would be and he could not pass that up, gilt-edged and decorated at the spine with watered silk endpapers, it was a first edition, first issue F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and the Damned. Darius was so excited, he scarcely took notice of the boy at the counter when he walked into the store.
The store itself was plain, with shelves of books lining each wall of the tiny, one-room store. The floors themselves were plain wood and the whole affair was likely a fire hazard but such irrepressible joy was welling up in Darius's heart, he did not care at all. His mood had brightened instantly, thinking of holding that book in his hands, knowing the weight of such a work as he was about to encounter. He would feel like a secret king, a privileged man among the masses, to know by weight this rare treasure.
[/size]Thanos watched the pair with amusement, assessing both of them while they spoke and offering smiles at points in their argument. At the mention of his clothing, Thanos flicked a glance down and chuckled. "I'm touched, a fellow artist likes my work. I was hoping it wouldn't all be dentists coming in, looking to buy something appropriately bland and unoffensive for their offices..." he replied, turning his attention to the instrument on Jakub's back. "It was one of the most recent, though the main reason I wore these" he plucked at the paint splattered pants "was because they're some of the only ones I own where you can tell that they were intended to be white..." he grinned, extending his hand.
"I'm Thanos, and before you ask, yes I know I'm very Greek and it's been pointed out to me, both when I left Patras and in every conversation I've ever had with a woman under the age of thirty" this was accompanied by a cheeky eyebrow raise, not wanting to admit that he had taken a liking to the man and that if one of them had chosen to point out he was Greek one more time, he wasn't sure he'd be able to continue talking to them. Thanos did not carry much faith in the intelligence of anyone he'd met recently and he fell silent, looking up at them with dark, expectant eyes.
Crescent nodded to Travis, examining the watch on her wrist. Silently, she shook her head, wondering where all the time went. Even still, she had not seen any customers come in for Val. "Looks like no one wants fluffy ponies today, Val, would you mind ringing this man up since you're not busy? I need to autoclave a few things real quick and then I'm starved" she grabbed the equipment and motioned for Travis to follow her into the room with the autoclave.
"Ours is a nice, new model, so I'll show you how to use it here" she told him, carefully going through the motions while she eyed his overall form. He was decently handsome, sweet, and amusing. Easy-going, she could hardly sense a temper at all beneath the surface. Finishing up, she grabbed her jacket off the hook by the door of the store.
"I'll buy you lunch today" she told him flippantly, heading down the street to a small Asian restaurant. It was her favorite, the elderly couple had known her since she was just entering puberty and they had always taken good care of her. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, the matriarch bustled over with a wide smile splitting her face and showed them to a table in the back corner.
Sitting down neatly, Crescent held up the menu in front of her face not to study it, since she knew it by heart, but to conceal her face as she spoke. "Your question, first, Travis" she told him, preparing how best to breach her own statement.
Hibine stammered shyly some protest to Cecilia about his glasses, but ended up affirming that he would indeed enjoying shopping for clothes. A tinkling laugh and ten minutes later, they were on a bus stopping in front of a shopping center in the heart of the city. Unwaveringly, Cecilia pulled Hibine into a little boutique the such stylized letters for the name, he could hardly tell what the shop was called. In an instant, smiling women flanked him and were chatting merrily, pulling clothes from hangers in a wave of chaos and confusion that made Hibine want to slink back out the door. He might have, in fact, had Cecilia not been clinging to his arm and speaking at light speed to keep up with their banter.
After a minute or two, Hibine had clothes pressed into his hands and was unceremoniously scooted into a changing room. The latest fashions had clearly been employed and Hibine found himself in a fitted tan greatcoat, double-breasted with authentic brass buttons. Smooth, black denim jeans seemed fitted to his form and his aviator boots even had shearling. Beneath it was a simple gray button-up shirt.
"Are you sure?" he asked quizzically as he stepped from the changing room. One of the boutique women squealed and began searching for a pair of gloves.
Orianna looked up from her menu, a soft smile easing the corners of her lips. "No, nothing's wrong, Reyna. Unless you count my utter cluelessness on what to order... I'll let you order for me if you promise not to make it too rich, I don't want to be exercising for another two hours to make up for heavy sauces or something" she chuckled, running a fingertip over the figurine. So he was only a friend? Orianna hoped so, although why she had an aversion to Reyna dating, she wasn't sure. It was just, none of these men were right for her and a selfish part of Orianna knew it would cut into their time together.
"How has your day been?" it was pleasant outside, with sunshine splashing everywhere and lighting up her gentle gold hair like waves of shimmering gold. "Maybe I should get a photo shoot today so I can have dessert with you later" she joked, somehow still less cognizant of her own appearance than the way the sun was making Reyna's hair light up like brilliantly glinting jet.
Darius tucked his black leather glove into the pocket of his luxurious coat, quilted wool jersey stretching down to his ankles. Still, he thought as he patted the pocket, it was not as pleasantly warm as the mink one in this cold weather. However, this coat would have to do for now, since it was too large a risk that sniveling activists would damage the soft, expensive fur. He was in a suitably dark mood to match the weather outside when he stepped into the little corner bookstore.
The scent of dust invaded his nostrils and he grimaced momentarily when his senses were assaulted by the faint smell of must and the heavy quality of the air. Still, this was where his tip had told him the book would be and he could not pass that up, gilt-edged and decorated at the spine with watered silk endpapers, it was a first edition, first issue F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and the Damned. Darius was so excited, he scarcely took notice of the boy at the counter when he walked into the store.
The store itself was plain, with shelves of books lining each wall of the tiny, one-room store. The floors themselves were plain wood and the whole affair was likely a fire hazard but such irrepressible joy was welling up in Darius's heart, he did not care at all. His mood had brightened instantly, thinking of holding that book in his hands, knowing the weight of such a work as he was about to encounter. He would feel like a secret king, a privileged man among the masses, to know by weight this rare treasure.