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Post by shinigami on Oct 25, 2008 13:32:03 GMT -8
Beatrix opens the door to Buttercup's Diner. Because it is cold outside, she is wearing a jacket. Bright red, floofy sleeves; fun. Her jeans are so well-worn they're falling into strings, there's a stain on one knee; some kind of oil.
Beneath the jacket, a t-shirt; around her neck, a single stone wrapped in silver wire. Hematite. Hair? Two french-braided pig-tails. Backpack? Check. It would look to the casual observer as if Beatrix was going to study for a test or possibly do her homework.
It's not the kind've place where you have to wait to be seated, so she seats herself in a window that gets plenty of light and scans the place with an eye for familiar waitresses. One in particular, actually.
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Post by doreyg on Oct 25, 2008 13:39:53 GMT -8
Laurel has been working most of the day and now that it's 5PM or there abouts her shift has ended and she is heading home... All dressed up in a coat and gloves (it's a cold day, one with a few shadows even fairly early).
She passes Bea with her head down, stops and then turns around and raises her eyebrow, she's hardly going to forget that night considering that she found out about her past lives then and had her arm dislocated, it's not something easily forgotten.
Anyway, now she's standing there and waiting fairly politely.
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Post by shinigami on Oct 25, 2008 13:55:21 GMT -8
...Laurel. Apparently in the very bloom of health!
Beatrix's gaze is unrevelatory. This isn't to say emotionless. Just: unreadable. The dark-eyed girl's eyebrows both rise -- maybe she looks a bit surprised -- but then it's business as usual. Mission accomplished.
"Oh. Hello. Are you on your way in? You can take your coat off before you take my order. But I'm having cinnamon toast. Extra cinnamon. Thanks."
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Post by doreyg on Oct 25, 2008 14:03:09 GMT -8
Laurel looks for another moment and then smiles slightly, racking her memory for a particular waitress that Bea doesn't really like... Ah, there.
"Sorry, I'm just on my way out miss... I can get Charlotte to serve you though?" Charlotte, blonde, bouncy, rather stupid and always wearing Angelite... Also probably one of teh most annoying creatures in the cosmos.
She'll put up some sort of fight.
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Post by shinigami on Oct 30, 2008 22:21:43 GMT -8
There is what might've been an awkward pause as Laurel stares, silently, and racks her memory for a waitress that Beatrix doesn't like. Beatrix, during this pause, raises both of her eyebrows in silent question. Then, the name -- Charlotte.
There's a moment without recognition. Then her eyebrows draw together, slightly. She had nothing against blondes. Her own hair was blonde, after all, if of a particular shade, all spun-light. She had nothing against bounce, either. But stupidity?
She hated stupid people. She couldn't stand them. Thus? Her tone is remarkably unenthused. "Oh."
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Post by doreyg on Nov 1, 2008 13:58:08 GMT -8
Laurel might be hiding a tiny smirk right at this moment, although she is hiding it remarkably well because she certainly doesn't want to anger a old power once known to be one of the scarier ones.
Well, proven, giant shadow-type freakouts are not far enough away to be forgotten yet... Especially since they triggered other memories.
"Can I call her for you?" In other people such tones might be called a little gleeful, on Laurel they sound perfectly polite.
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Post by shinigami on Nov 16, 2008 0:37:55 GMT -8
During the question, Beatrix watched the piskie-fine girl unblinkingly; but she canted her head to the side, just so, quizzical. Laurel wanted a reaction; Beatrix could tell that. What Beatrix couldn't tell was what reaction Laurel wanted. What was it? Girl politics? Beatrix twists her necklace around her throat, hematite bead between thumb and forefinger. Her eyebrows prick together, and she shrugs, slouching gracelessly against the seat.
"Do what you want."
There are a hellofa lot of implications there. For instance: Hey, Laurel. You're free to leave. Or stay, and talk. After all, she's off the clock. Also: Hey, maybe you should do what you want, instead of what people think you should want. Also: Go on. Go on, call the waitress over. Dare you. Think that'd be nice for her? Go on. Do it. Dooo it.
Or maybe just -- do what you want, I don't care.
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Post by doreyg on Dec 4, 2008 13:49:57 GMT -8
Laurel nods slightly, turns to fetch Charlotte... And then stops, letting a sigh slip out of her mouth without noticing.
Damn her conscience, the people she's apparently going to associate with now don't seem to have this problem.
She turns back, smiles slightly, covers a wince at the Hematite (that stone is far more trouble then it's worth) and coughs apologetically "actually, I think Charlotte's busy right now, washing dishes, sorry."
A pause, not entirely awkward but slightly considering "Uh... How is Val?"
Laurel has a little bit of a crush on Val, not that it matters; she has her lovely, psychotic vampire to go off and make happy families with thank you very much.
The universe has to have it in for her.
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