Post by leonardo salvatore on Nov 2, 2009 19:08:35 GMT -5
Mr. L. N. Salvatore
He wasn't quite able to put his finger upon why he enjoyed coming to the Dig so much: he wasn't a coffee drinker, or a tea drinker, or an any kind of hot drink drinker; nor did he ever order any food besides the curly fries, preferring to make his own dinner in a kitchen that he knew the cleanliness of – not that he thought the kitchens dirty or the staff bad cooks, he was just a fussy Vegetarian who preferred to know definitely where his food came from. The Dig though was just somehow comfortable, the atmosphere was warm and friendly, always dosed with a buzz of chatter from both the students huddled around their laptops over by the coffee bar and the families and business people out for whatever meal it happened to be time for. Perhaps it was his usual company that made the place so appealing: Leon associated the Dig with many good nights spent alone with Victoria, laughing and just enjoying each other’s company.
His eyes ran over the Daily Specials menu on the wall, not particularly interested in buying anything, admiring the swirly calligraphy that the Soup of the Day was written in and quickly linking it to the bespectacled girl behind the register – her eyes flickered up to meet his, sensing the dark gaze on her, before hastily looking down at the screen in front of her, something now oddly fascinating about the quick menu that always stared back at her during the shift. A smirk curled around the corners of Leon’s mouth, he too looking away, back to the free newspaper that lay open on the low table in front of the squashy couch that he currently inhabited.
He read over the various headlines of the “gossip” pages again, taking particular note of the ridiculous accusations being thrown around about the Gifted being linked to the disappearances of several garden ornaments and koi fish. He chuckled quietly to himself, leaning forwards and resting an elbow on his knee, chin in turn rested on propped up hand; skimming through the other articles that condemned all non-humans and called for their extradition or imprisonment. Load of shit... he thought to himself, browsing boredly as he flipped the page to the puzzles and comics, contemplating the number puzzles to keep himself occupied whilst he waited.
But people watching drew his attention once again. The Gifted enjoyed watching the expressions and reactions of people as their coffee mugs moved ever so slightly “on their own” or a non-existent gust of wind knocked something off of a nearby shelf – and there was always the added bonus of other Gifted being around to witness and enjoy the aftermath too (although this was a rare occurrence). Being caught was never really something he gave much contemplation, who would know the source of something as intangible as telekinesis? This was one thing that he enjoyed about his power, the subtlety – with pyrokinesis or super-strength the source was obvious and there were few different actions that one could perform. He was lucky, in that way, but not so in another – powers of the mind were tenuous and fiddly, and unless honed for hours and hours a day were temperamental and chose their own working times. Leon supposed that he should practice more, but he wasn’t good at practice, he wasn’t used to it: he was always the one who picked up things after the first explanation, the one who could shoot a basketball into the net, the one who could do long division, the one who could conjugate that French verb after the first lesson. Perhaps it was arrogance and pride, but he didn’t want to practice – to do so would be admitting that he had failed.
