Coffee and pills - you know you want some. (open)

[rachel jackson]

Rach drew her black Kawasaki ninja to a halt outside the dig with a sigh. Just as she had feared. The unseasonably warm whether and brought the humans out and enticed them to go for a night on the town. Unfortunately for Rachel that meant that her usually quiet and cosy coffee hut was now full of loud groups of friends, plus their even louder and rather more painful mental voices.

Rach glanced down the street and chewed thoughtfully on her lip. She could leave and go do her homework somewhere more quiet.... But that would mean no coffee. And i need my coffee. Rachel thought, drawing herself more upright to prepare for an uncomfortable night of coffee drinking.

Distractedly Rach let her motorbike rumble forward so that it was flush with the sidewalk before she turned the ignition key and quelled the bike's roar. Deftly she stepped off her bike, pulling her black helmet off as she did so. Rach's long honey brown hair flowed out and down her shoulders, highlighted by Rahel's thick black leather jacket.

Rach tucked her helmet into the crook of her arm and lifted her tan shoulder bag onto her opposite shoulder before striding up the 3 stairs and entering the shop.

Rach made a beeline for the only vacant booth in the dig, giving a wave and a smile to the coffee bar. The guy serving gave her a grin back. He knew what Rach wanted, after all she did come here practically every night. Ironically the booth she was heading for was where she usually sat too.

Rach slid into the corner of the booth and sat her helmet down beside her before pulling the English book she was meant to be reading for class out of her bag. After re-reading the first sentence of the book 10 times Rachel gave up and let the book go, opting to grab her head instead. The effects of the last bunch of pills she'd taken were wearing off and the voices in her head were louder than ever, meaning it felt like someone was trying to cut her head open with a blowtorch. Coffee man came to the rescue though distracting her from her imaginings with the sweet sweet smell of an awesome coffee.

Giving the retreating waiter and grin of thanks, Rach popped a couple of pills into her mouth and took a large draw of her coffee. She didn't mind the burn as the hot liquid scalded her throat, it was nothing compared to her head. Anyways, she'd done this so often it was amazing that she still had any felling in her throat.

Rach slid down so that she had her feet up on the bench seat opposite her, holding her coffee with both hands just under her nose, occasionally taking sips. It wouldn't be long now before the pills kicked in and then she could get back to work... or get another coffee. Both were good. However just as she closed her eyes to try and relax, a mental voice she recognized flashed through her brain. Rach's eyes flipped open with a smile.

"Hi there."

[leonardo salvatore]

`` MR. L. N. Salvatore.

The attention that his bike was drawing was nothing new to Leonardo, it was natural that people would stare at beauty – something that was ingrained within the genetics of every human being on the planet – and the 1942 HD was indeed a beautiful bike. Okay, she was nearing seventy years old, but the shiny red paint job and shined up steel shone new – Leon took care of his possessions, and being the obsessive that he was worked on things until they were perfect (a LOT of money had gone into keeping the Harley looking perfect). So he was glad that the motorbike turned people’s heads, drawing their attention away from their meals or their newspapers or where they were putting their feet and so making them walk into things; peripheral vision was a wonderful thing when he could clearly see the effect he had when riding by. People couldn’t help but be attracted to the bike, the sound of her engine alone was something thrilling, and the Harley had quite a few admirers – of course, Leonardo liked to think (being the vain creature that he was) that he too added to this effect when he removed his helmet and responded to the comments and questions of those onlookers.

Feeling far too lazy to cook (it was a day ending with a “y” after all), the Gifted had removed himself from his downtown apartment to the comfortable familiarity of the quieter suburb that housed The Dig. But the curious warmth of the evening had tempted many others to the same fate – usually the streets were deserted, everyone hiding away from the slight bite of cold that hung on the October air. Leon muttered to himself behind the chin guard of his helmet, cracking his neck to each side as he let the bike coast up to the kerb and set a foot down upon the ground. The Dig looked busy. Taking a moment he removed his helmet and sat it on his knee, balancing it there whilst he peeled off his leather gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. Twisting the key out of the ignition he stood up and glanced at the other bike that occupied the small space next to him.

He smirked to himself, Wonder if she can hear my thoughts from this far out in such a crowd... He glanced inside, assuming that the bike’s owner would be inside the coffee house. He clicked his tongue, tutting at the very modern looking bike that sat next to his own highly vintage model; he wondered over the appeal of - what he would describe as - “a large chunk of plastic that sounded like a lawnmower”, though he did reason within himself that maybe his bike was seen on a similar vein by some people... but they would have to be crazy, everyone loves Harleys, right? He ran his hand across the leather of the seat and along the handlebars as he walked past the ‘42 and ventured inside, looking for a seat by the window so he could keep an eye on one of his most prized possessions, or maybe with Rachel, if she had no other company.
Leon still found it a bit odd talking to her however, he was hyper aware of the age difference between the pair – and there was little chance that people would mistake his tall frame and stubble ridden face for that of even a high-school senior; and whilst Rachel may have looked a little older than her numbers would tell, there was still no way she was past 20. Whilst he had no inclination or feelings that way for the girl, he wondered how outsiders would view it; he wasn’t exactly looking to draw attention his way or get hit by some old lady’s handbag as she tried to “prize” him away from the young and innocent child.

Stepping across the threshold he made straight for the counter, ordering whatever their latest “wacky” flavour happened to be – so long as it wasn’t something like pumpkin, he was happy. Hovering, he leant against the higher portion of the counter whilst the order was prepared, listening acutely for mention of his, he ran his oddly dark eyes over the plethora of people sitting chatting or milling around. It was indeed as busy as it had looked from the street, there seemed to be only a few dis-tabled seats floating around and certainly there were no spaces by the windows. Haha... gocha. he smiled to himself, spotting Rach in a corner booth as his drink was placed by his elbow and he thanked the server. Performing an elaborate dance around the catastrophe that was tonight’s seating arrangement, he edged his way over to her – careful not to spill the lava that was his coffee – while he tried to remain inconspicuous. Sneak-ah, sneak-ah, sneak-ah...

“Hi there.”

“Damn, I forgot about your... sensing people coming... thing.” he intoned in a mock annoyed voice, the smile on his face making his displeasure and obvious ruse, subtly voicing aloud that she had a power but making use of cryptic and run-of-the-mill phrasing to bypass the fact that there were humans present. “Saw the bike outside,” he commented before she could enquire on his sourcing her out, “Not come to your senses yet over model I see – but I’ll change your opinion yet.” He clucked his tongue again in teasing fashion, “May I?” he motioned to the empty seat across from her in the booth, enquiring unto both her recieving of the jokes and her night's company.

---

STATUS;; done!
WORDS;; 928! [no code]
NOTES;; eh, a bit rambly, but i hope you can work with it!
TAGGS;; ms. r. jackson! [or open, whatever's the haps]

[rachel jackson]

Rachel's lips carved up into a grin when the not so ninja like thoughts running through Leon's head were abruptly cut off as she said hello. Leon's response mirroring her own thoughts about the fact that he must of forgotten about her... abilities. Then again, he said this with a smile on his face which left Rach hovering in indecision. That was one thing about Leon she liked. He was always a mystery, his words never having less than 2 meanings. It kept her on her toes, both mentally and physically as even Leon's thoughts could sometimes be misleading.

Whilst Rach was still musing over her thoughts, Leon cut into her world again by re-taking up the conversation. That was one of the other pit falls of her powers. It was like trying to watch TV and listen to the radio at the same time. Just because she was a gifted didn't mean that Rachel should automatically gain the ability to listen to both at once. Long ago she had perfected the art of drowning out the 'radio' with pills and focusing on the 'TV', however sometimes she would slip and this usually resulted in strange looks from the humans, and missing vital parts of conversations. Like now, Rachel tuned back into the 'TV' in time to hear the last of Leon's words.

“Not come to your senses yet over model I see – but I’ll change your opinion yet.”

Why he was talking about the bikes, Rachel had no idea, but her ninja's reputation was at stake! Rachel opened her mouth to retort to the obviously playful insult on her bike with an equally playful insult about his, but Leon cut her off with a polite request to join her at the table.

Rachel couldn't help but crack up into a grin again, answering just as politely.

"You may." She said with a regal wave at the chair opposite her which was presently been hurriedly vacated by her feet.

"But as for my bike, she could leave you in her dust any day." Rach added slyly as Leo slid in opposite her. Knowing him he'd probably just raise an eyebrow at her and answer with some witty comeback. Truly his skill with words was remarkable. Rachel had no hope of keep up with him, she could still try though. With her mind working at this high a level, she really didn't have the brain space to be worrying about the pain in her head.

With a grin that must of seemed entirely out of place for Leo, Rachel realized that Leo was like one of her pain killers. First came the pills, then the coffee, then the bike rides to nowhere, then a highly intellectual conversation with Leon. Rachel bit her lip to stop herself from randomly bursting into giggles, instead taking a deep breath and looking across to Leon with the hidden laughter glinting in her eyes.

"So what brings you to The Dig? I thought you hated all things coffee like in substance?" She asked with a nod at the cup in his hand.

As Rachel waited for a response, she casually slipped her school books back into her bag, leaving the table clear once more. Clear that is, except for her helmet which was currently leaning against the wall which the table was backing onto.

[leonardo salvatore]

`` MR. L. N. Salvatore__________

"But as for my bike, she could leave you in her dust any day."

“Pfft.” he scoffed at her, dismissing her claim with a wave of his hand and a tilt of his head, turning his eyes towards the window through which he could just about see the pair of motor bikes sitting next to each other – opposing ends of the spectrum in every way. While he may not have been prepared to admit it, Rach’s bike probably did have a much higher top speed than his Harley did: but as Leo was a stringent believer in the old ways of racing, he also was fully confident that the rider made just as much impression on any head-to-head as the bike itself did (the deficit always existed, just as a cool looking rider could make any old piece of shit machine popular.). But he supposed he would be termed sexist if he assumed himself to be a better rider than Rachel was – regardless of his reasoning. “Your Ninja’s fast, I’ll give you that. But if I had my bike against her, well that’s a different story entirely than me trying to run and keep up... And anyway riding that lawnmower makes everything easy for you. Plus there’s not many of my kind around anymore so I doubt you’ve been up against much but other little toys...” he left the sentence hanging as a question, throwing Rachel another look that hinted at a joke – though he assumed that she knew he thought his own words at least half true.

"So what brings you to The Dig? I thought you hated all things coffee like in substance?"

He looked down to the corrugated cup that held the still steaming-hot liquid inside – which according to the poster board was an apple and cinnamon macchiato, not that he’d been able to take so much as a sip due to its scolding nature. The smell was rather off-putting as well, a sickly-sweet odour was emanating from the small holes in the lid of the cup, a somewhat distasteful scent but Leo was willing to give it a shot regardless. Removing the lid, something which he should have done previously in order to aid cooling, he peered over the edge of the cup as if expecting to find something liable to bite inside and gave an obvious sniff. “Eh,” he shrugged, leaning back in his seat, swirling the coffee around, “it’s what people do – drinking coffee. Figure my metabolism’s gonna change and I’m gonna need it for the caffeine sooner or later – might as well find one I like before then.” he shrugged his shoulders slowly again, showing the amount of doubt that he put on this statement: he very much suspected that he would never grow to like coffee. Ever. “Thought I might get some food too, bu-ut it’s looking a bit busy in here to get anything halfway decently cooked.” He threw a glance around at the waiting staff, all rushed off their feet and running back and forth with wrong orders and burnt orders and under-cooked orders and drinks needing refilled.

“I can wait. What about that though?” he pointed to the books that she was clearing away to make room for whatever, “Can that wait? I’m not interrupting anything important am I? You and you Artsy-types always have something that’s needing read or written...” He attempted to edge the book back out of her bag with his Telekinesis, very much doubting that he had read whatever it was – unless he too had read it in school – and more intent on messing around a bit, even in so public an arena (who would be watching them anyway..?)

---

STATUS;; done!
WORDS;; 614! [no code]
NOTES;; none!
TAGGS;; ms. r. jackson! [or open][/quote]

[rachel jackson]

"You're right. You're one of only three people i've ever seen riding a Harley. I've never had a chance to race one because for some reason anyone who rides one tends to be 60 or older." Rachel answered Leon's joking jibe with a shrug and a small sly lifting of the corner of her mouth. Leon definitely was not 60, but it was still fun to point out how much older than her he was.

“it’s what people do – drinking coffee. Figure my metabolism’s gonna change and I’m gonna need it for the caffeine sooner or later – might as well find one I like before then.”

Rachel laughed at this comment. She knew as well as Leon did that his body would not start liking coffee anytime soon, and besides, he could always just drink coke, it was just as bad for you as coffee. Rachel was just about to open her mouth to say so, but Leon was looking away from her, thus didn't see her open mouth, and continued to talk.

“Thought I might get some food too, bu-ut it’s looking a bit busy in here to get anything halfway decently cooked.”

Rachel shut her hanging open and nodded mutely. Why did he have to mention just how many people were in here? Now that Rachel had noticed the noise again the cacophony filled her brain. The pills had started to kick in, but not enough just yet. With an grimace so soft that it was lost in the noise of the cafe Rachel moved her fingers up to massage her temples.

“Can that wait? I’m not interrupting anything important am I? You and you Artsy-types always have something that’s needing read or written...”

Rachel smiled up at Leon.

"It's a book for English. The first few chapters are bound to just be the author showing off how many different ways they can describe the trees. Then there'll be some atypical plot exploring some human condition or another. Then there'll be a plot twist where everyone either dies, goes gay, or has an epiphany. Then some cruddy ending that isn't an ending. The book really should of been only about 15 pages long, the authors that English departments tend to choose tend to have a habit of filling pages with descriptive waffle for no other reason than they can, much to the annoyance of every human child who unfortunately has to take this boring and compulsory subject." Rachel said with only a hint of sarcasm and a wave of her hand as she watched Leon try to sneak the book back out of her bag. Her eyebrow rose at that. Normally any Gifted would never use so obvious a power in such a public place. Leon must either be realy bored, or he simply felt in an adventurous mood. And besides, it was doubtful anyone would be looking at the duo in their little secluded booth anyways.

((Sorry it's so waffely, i have to go out in a few min ))

[leonardo salvatore]

`` MR. L. N. Salvatore__________

Leon stuck his tongue out at Rachel in a way that told that he was very much not 60 years old, exaggerating the gesture as if to prove his immaturity, adding to the expression with a small shake of his head and a further look that clearly said well-look-at-you-all-under-twenty. He made a small noise of distaste then, “Hmph.” before putting on a crotchety mock-old voice and adding,”You young-uns... no respect for your elderly. Back in my day, we offered to clean the bikes of older generations, and went to the store for them and bought new cylinder heads with two-bits!” he couldn’t prevent the laughter from breaking through at that point, sniggering through the remainder of his story, that he was compelled to finish, “...and if, if we were lucky... we got t’, t’ keep the change!” He laughed properly then, feeling sorry for his own extremely bad joke as he dropped his head in embarrassment and shook it.

Returning his attentions to the coffee cup in front of him, upon recovery (though still punctuated with the occasional quickly corrected laugh), and he once again observed it as if it were some dangerous or wild animal. Deeming it suitably cooled, its temperature perhaps now equal to only that of scolding water rather than a volcano now – but this being the final temperature that it would reach before subliming to a little above the temperature of Alaska – he raised the cup to his lips and took a sip of the sweet liquid. The initial taste, well the taste once he got past “burning”, was mildly pleasant; until he swallowed it, the nasty aftertaste of actual coffee overpowering the odd mixture of apple and cinnamon that had hit him at first. The other half of the drink still swirled around his mouth, resisting every temptation to spit it back into the cup – he was after-all in the presence of an impressionable young lady and felt the need to uphold his manners. Seeing no alternative, he swallowed it down with a look of disgust, holding the expression for a good five seconds longer than was necessary. “Yummy.” he finally said in a quasi robotic voice, looking to the younger Gifted with a blank look, “Would you like some?” The question most obviously a joke as he inched the cup away from him as if its very being near to him led to its offence and permeating of his being.

As she explained the book, he did his best to keep track of her description – although her words were not complex and she divulged little of the plot (that one would need knowledge of the book to understand), Leon was most definitely not inclined towards essays, books and that whole side of the coin. At school, he had been much more into his science, excelling in this field but never able to write a good essay for the life of him – maths and physics equalled yes, english equalled a rather large and solid no. “Ah.” he responded as if in perfect comprehension, though the front was a purposefully poor one, “I see. Fascinating.” he concluded, with even less conviction; a grin spreading out across his face again.

He dropped his jokey demeanour however as he looked at her properly, noting the telltale signs of one of her frequent headaches. “Hey, you wanna head somewhere quieter?” He cringed, regretting his words as he spoke them, that sounded bad – he could practically feel the angry mob of grannies with their purses poised massing around them. Quickly he added, “I can shut up and go if you’d rather drown them out with your iPod or whatever..?” motioning over his shoulder with a thumb towards the opposite end of the establishment.

_{`` STATUS;; done.
`` WORDS;; six-two-three.
`` NOTES;; blah blah blah.
`` MUSIC;; iris - goo goo dolls.
`` TAGGS;; ms. r. jackson.}