Rhi: It was a quiet, slow day at the little corner coffee shop in town. It was pretty much her and the pretty owner of the place, Maddie, or Amy, a plump woman closer to thirty than twenty, who made great cupcakes and amazing cake. Rhi felt pretentious because of how much she loved the place, sometimes. The music playing bore names like 'fusion rock', 'indie electronica' and 'soft house', and the menu featured 'shakerato'; in short, it was as hipster as they got, but it was peaceful and had a homey atmosphere that was perfect for reading and writing and catching up on TV series. Rhi, her hair pulled back in a neat French braid, sat by the window with a cappuccino, a copy of Hamlet sitting open in front of her, constantly tucking loose strands behind her ears. It was a good day.
Thomas P. Lynch III: The sky was blue and the birds were singing but yet Thomas was debating throwing himself off a cliff, preferably quite a large one, he thought to himself as he walked down the street, avoiding all sorts of hazards on the way such as the black cat that wouldn't stop staring at him and that window cleaner that had his ladder perched at just the right angle that it'd be impossible to walk past without switching to the road. It'd been quite a bad day for the young man, first being denied access to several historical documents which could easily point him in the right direction to his find but alas, people were dicks and he got bored of arguing with their simple minds and second he was shit upon by a 'special' pigeon. He sighed, recalling the day's events, whilst making sure to avoid most of the cracks on the pavement when he came across a little coffee shop which looked mostly empty and feeling as thought he needed to have an espresso which didn't come from his cabin's coffee machine- the horror of it made him shudder- he entered and took a cautious look around for spilled salt.
Rhi: Hearing the distinct ding of the bell that hang above the door signal someone entering, Rhi looked up from her book, a small thoughtful smile pulling on her lips. She went back to her book as soon as she saw it was no one she knew. She was sure she didn't know the newcomer, or rather that she'd remember him -- he carried himself in a way that implicated that one ought to remember him.
Thomas P. Lynch III: His shoes made a strange clicking noise as he walked and after taking a quick look around to make sure there were no cannisters of spilled salt anywhere to be seen he walked over to the barista and made simply the most convoluted order for a simple espresso the woman had ever heard. A quick sigh was heard before she rummaged behind the counter and got to work making his coffee. As the woman was doing this he decided to take a look around the small café before laying eyes on Rhi and before he knew it he was doing the 'creepy pervert thing' also known as staring.
Rhi: She felt the stranger staring at her and didn't have the patience to ignore him. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, her lips pursed in annoyance. "Can I help you?" she asked, weathered by years spent surrounded by weirdos she was related to at least in some way.
Thomas P. Lynch III: Taken aback by Rhi's sudden acknowledgement he took a step back, knocking over the cannister of sugar before blushing furiously. "Uhm, sorry, it's just...." He murmured something before turning away.
Rhi: Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Rhi shook her hair and went back to Shakespeare. Tourists, she thought. Although, there was something familiar somehow. She just wasn't sure if it was from Camp or an issue of Forbes magazine.
Thomas P. Lynch III: The barista stood for a second looking at him before finally giving him his coffee, Shit, he thought, I forgot to say take-out.
Rhi: She took a sip of coffee and retrieved a fairly old looking notebook from her backpack, along with a simple black pen, which she put behind her ear. It took her a while to get to the page she needed.
Thomas P. Lynch III: He quickly realized the rest of the café was empty and deciding that asking for a takeout after the woman had already took her time to make it would be rude he accepted his fate and walked over to Rhi, "Uhm, can I sit here?" For some reason he decided he wanted to sit at her table rather than any of the other tables in the café possibly because she was hot or possibly because he had nothing else to do, either way he knew he came across creepy and perhaps stalker-ish.
Rhi: She looked up at the creepy stranger, half glaring, half honestly confused. "You do realize there's a dozen empty tables besides this one, right?" She wouldn't exactly mind if he sat with her, but he did look kind of...peculiar, and until she'd decided if it was the good or bad kind, he'd have to grab a seat elsewhere.
Thomas P. Lynch III: He shrugged before pulling out the chair and sitting down at her table simply not caring about being rejected, "I have nothing else to do so it'd be very creepy for me just to sit on my own and stare at how marvellous the beige, ew, coloured walls are." He mocked a gag before sipping his coffee.
Rhi: She raised her eyebrows at him, cocking her head to the side slightly. "And sitting in front of a perfect stranger despite her wishes is less creepy?"
Thomas P. Lynch III: He grinned, "It's not creepy to other people as long as you pretend to know me."
Rhi: Confusion quickly turning into annoyance, she gave Tom a sharp glare. "Give me one good reason to do that."
Thomas P. Lynch III: He gave a nonchalant sigh, "I could use the company." He leaned in slightly closer to her, "Plus you're not that bad looking?" At this point he was coming off far more than just creepy, not like he minded however.
Rhi: She huffed, looking at him like he just said something in a foreign language. It took her exactly three seconds to recover. "I paid for this table, and I need you to leave it. Right now."
Thomas P. Lynch III: He sat his cup of coffee down on the table and held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine." He got up from the table and begun to walk towards the door, "You can have have my coffee if you want, I don't mind." He then proceeded to leave the café and make his way down the street.
Rhi: By the end of it, she looked extremely freaked out, even muttered something along the lines of 'what in the name of Hera was that'. She didn't touch his coffee.